[Third Person].
So minutes later, the soft murmur of voices gradually settled as redith stepped forward.
She stood beneath the shade of the trees, sunlight filtering through the leaves above her, dappling the simple fabric of her outfit.
And sohow, just the clean lines of her outfit and her calm presence made her stand out more.
Then she took a breath and smiled. "Good morning," redith said, her voice clear, warm, carrying just far enough. "Thank you for coming."
Instantly, the murmurs stilled.
"My na is redith Carter," she continued, her hands lightly clasped before her. "I am Alpha Draven’s mate and the Luna of the Mystic Furs Pack. Today, I am deeply grateful that you honoured my invitation."
Then her gaze swept across the won—young and old, mothers with children leaning against them, elders sitting with asured dignity.
"I know how valuable your ti is," she said softly. "Leaving your hos, your work, your families—it is no small thing. So seeing you here ans more to than words can say."
A few heads nodded, while so smiled.
"I didn’t invite you here today as a ruler speaking down," redith went on, her tone gentle but assured. "I invited you as a woman who wishes to listen, to share, and to serve in whatever ways she can."
Her voice ward as she clasped her hands lightly before her. "This gathering is for you. So, feel free to eat, drink, rest, and speak freely. You are welco here."
A ripple of quiet appreciation and approval passed through the benches, quiet but genuine.
And at the sa ti as redith drew breath to continue, the front gates of the Oatrun Estate, far from the back gardens, opened.
Two sleek vehicles rolled onto the grounds, engines humming low against the gravel. They moved with unhurried confidence, as if their arrival was expected. But it wasn’t.
Inside the main house, Draven sat alone in the private sitting room, posture relaxed but alert. He had deliberately stayed away from the back of the estate, giving redith the space to begin the event on her own terms.
Though he planned to visit later to offer his presence as further support to her.
Just as Draven was still deep in thought, his phone vibrated. He frowned as he wasn’t expecting any calls. But in the end, he answered.
"Yes?"
There was a brief pause. Then—
"What?" Draven straightened instantly.
His brows drew together, disbelief flashing across his face.
"Miss Fellowes," the voice confird on the other end. "She’s arrived at the estate."
Draven stood to his feet, different thoughts and ideas imdiately flooding his head.
Wanda, visiting unannounced today of all days?
His mind moved quickly, pieces shifting into place with uneasy precision. ’Why today? Why without any notice? Wanda didn’t do coincidence.’
"Are you certain?" Draven asked sharply.
"Yes, Alpha."
Draven exhaled slowly through his nose, his jaw tightening as he ca to a temporary conclusion after reviewing his thoughts on what could have brought Wanda over today.
And it is the fact that Wanda definitely heard about redith’s event and the details.
He could already feel it. That familiar, crawling sense at the back of his instincts.
"She must have a purpose," he murmured under his breath, suspicion darkening his gaze.
But then he spoke into the phone in a clipped, decisive tone, "Do not bring her anywhere near the back of the estate. Inform Dennis imdiately and have him et her and bring her straight to . No detours."
"Yes, Alpha."
The call ended.
anwhile, at the back of the estate, redith continued speaking, completely unaware of the unexpected guest now standing within the walls.
---
The mont Wanda stepped out of the car, she knew exactly where she was.
The Oatrun Estate lood ahead—vast, immovable, powerful. The guards bowed. Then two n followed closely behind her, each gripping one side of a large, heavy leather bag.
Wanda smiled perfectly because inside that bag was enough coin to turn gratitude into chaos.
She had planned it carefully—calculated the timing, the crowd, the hunger of the common won who would attend redith’s little gathering. Money always spoke louder than speeches. Louder than sincerity. Louder than intention.
Once the bag was opened, there would be scrambling hands, raised voices and fractured order.
And suddenly, redith’s "event" would no longer be hers.
And not just that, those poor won would imdiately forget everything about their main host and would be eternally grateful to her for thinking of them and sparing them a few coins.
Wanda lifted her chin, already imagining the mont. But just before she could think further, her smile faltered at the sight of Dennis.
He was striding toward her with lazy confidence, hands in his pockets, eyes sharp and unmistakably amused.
"Well, I will be damned," Dennis drawled, stopping a few steps away. "Look what the moons dragged in."
Wanda’s lips thinned. "Dennis."
"Miss Fellowes," he corrected mockingly, his eyes flicking over her elaborate attire. "Did I miss the announcent? Or are we just showing up wherever we please now?"
She didn’t answer, so Dennis’s gaze shifted to the bag. He didn’t even need to ask about the content as he could already perceive the scent that hit him, aside from Wanda’s strong perfu.
The scent was like a heavy iron, and imdiately, he guessed there were several coins in that bag.
’Ah! So that’s it.’ His grin widened, slow and dangerous.
"Well, this is interesting," he said lightly. "You didn’t inform anyone of your visit. No ssage. No courtesy knock. That’s bold. Or rude. Hard to tell with you."
Wanda crossed her arms. "I ca here today to support the Luna."
Dennis barked a laugh. "Support? That’s a generous word."
He tilted his head, eyes glinting. "Let guess—you brought a ’gift.’ Sothing loud and disruptive, sothing that makes you look generous while setting fire to the room."
Her jaw tightened instantly because, indeed, Dennis had guessed her motive correctly and exposed it to her face.
"And seriously," Dennis continued, circling her slightly, "what’s with the overdressing these days? This isn’t a ball. Or were you hoping my brother might mistake desperation for elegance?"
That did it imdiately. Wanda’s eyes flashed. "Watch your tongue."
"Oh, I am," Dennis replied cheerfully. "Very carefully."
Then he stopped directly in front of her, his voice dropping just enough to sting. "No matter how much effort you put in, your dirty little plans for my brother won’t work. They never have."
An ugly silence stretched between them, then Dennis added casually, almost kindly,
"And you know, you’re not getting any younger. If you can’t find a mate, maybe it’s ti to settle for a husband. I hear companionship does wonders for bitterness."
Wanda went rigid. Her anger spiked—hot, sharp, and volatile, but she didn’t speak. She was too furious to utter even a single word.
Though Dennis slled it, he simply didn’t care. Before she could react, he turned toward the servants holding the bag and raised a hand.
"You both are not welco," he said pleasantly. "You are not taking that."
The servants hesitated, then Dennis snapped his fingers, and two of his n who had followed him out at a considerable distance stepped forward imdiately, taking the heavy bag without argunt.
"We will take this inside," Dennis said, already walking away. "The Alpha is expecting us."
Wanda quickly caught up with him, her eyes sharp enough to cut him. "You have no right—"
Dennis glanced back over his shoulder with his smirk intact. "Oh, I do."
Without another word, he led the way into the house, the bag of coins trailing behind him, straight towards Draven, much to Wanda’s discontentnt.
She was so pissed off that she had been intercepted and that her plans had been foiled.
Dennis’s action right now made it seem like everything she imagined was seen through ahead of ti and, therefore, deliberately put to a stop.
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