65

65

Mason's POV

The air around me buzzed with anticipation as the pack gathered for the charity gala I'd organized—a carefully curated event to showcase unity, strength, and, most importantly, the fact that I had won.

Bethany stood beside me, her hand resting stiffly on my arm. She wore a flowing navy dress that complimented her perfectly, though the rigid line of her jaw suggested she'd rather be in a burlap sack than at my side. Too bad. The pack needed to see us together, the picture of a harmonious Alpha and his Luna.

"Smile," I whispered as we stepped onto the ballroom floor, the crowd parting for us.

Her lips twitched upward, but her eyes were dead. I'd expected that. Bethany was stubborn, but I could play the long game. And tonight, every smile, every touch, was for show. For them.