Chapter 9: The Gilded Cage Shatters

The day of Wesley’s birthday gala dawned with an unnatural brilliance. The pack house, usually a bastion of severe strength, was transformed into a den of opulent deception. Crystal chandeliers blazed, their light glinting off polished silver and the forced smiles of the pack elite. The air was thick with the cloying scent of imported flowers and expensive perfume, a deliberate mask over the underlying tension. Emilia watched it all from the shadows of the servant’s stairwell. She wore the simple, dark uniform of a server, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. She was invisible, just another piece of the scenery. Wesley, resplendent in a tailored black tuxedo, held court at the center of the ballroom, Sarah clinging to his arm like a jeweled vine, the Sun-Fire rubies blazing at her throat. They were the picture of power and new allegiance. The party swirled around them—a spectacle of loyalty and fear. Emilia moved through the crowd with a tray of champagne flu