His Abandoned Luna Chapter 169

|| Lilac’s POV ||

The white gown clung to my skin like a second layer of shame, its delicate lace scratching at my collarbones with every breath. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting silver streaks across the floor, but the fabric meant to honor the full moon felt more like a burial shroud.

I stared at my reflection— pale face, hollow eyes, lips painted a perfect, lifeless pink. A doll dressed up for slaughter.

This isn't happening.

The knock at the door was too soft, too hesitant.

"Come in," I said, my voice flat.

Elara slipped inside, her usual sharp edges softened by the peach bridesmaid dress she wore. "Wow," she breathed, her dark eyes sweeping over me. "You look pretty."

"Where have you been?" The words tore from me, raw and jagged. "No calls. No texts. And now—" I gestured wildly at the dress, the room, the farce waiting outside. "You let them do this?"

Elara didn't flinch. "Calm down. Your bridesmaids are here."

Astrid and Madeline filed in behind her, their matching peach gowns a mockery of solidarity.

"Hey, beautiful," Astrid said, her smile too knowing.

Madeline just smirked.

I whirled on them. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"We've prepared a grand show for you," Madeline purred, adjusting the strap of her dress.

Before I could demand answers, my mother appeared in the doorway, her emerald eyes glittering with something I couldn't name.

"Ready?" she asked, as if this were any other day.

"To get mated with a fake mate or to be slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb. Either way, NO," I snapped.

Elara looped her arm through mine, her grip deceptively gentle. "Trust us. You'll love it."

The hallway outside was too bright, the air thick with the scent of roses and something sharper— anticipation, maybe. Or dread.

Then Ezra appeared, his usual cocky grin in place, his dark hair tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed. He unexpectedly was wearing suit.

"Where have you been?" I hissed, my fingers digging into his arm. "I haven't heard from you in days."

"Nowhere special," he said, shrugging. "Just around the border."

"The what? Are you kidding me now!" My voice rose, sharp enough that a few nearby guests turned their heads.

Ezra clapped a hand over my mouth, hissing, "Ishh! Don't yell."

He steered me toward the garden, his grip unyielding. "Just play along, okay? For once in your life, trust me."

Great! Now I was supposed to trust a teenager!

The night air hit my face like a slap as we stepped outside.

The garden had been transformed.

Lanterns hung from the trees, their golden light flickering over the assembled guests, pack members, councilmen, faces I recognized and others I didn't. At the center of it all stood Elias, resplendent in his ceremonial blacks, his golden hair gleaming under the moonlight.

He looked every inch the devoted mate.

My stomach turned.

Dad waited at the edge of the aisle, his expression unreadable. When Ezra handed me off to him, his grip was steady, his voice low.

"Remember why we're doing this."

Then we were moving, the crowd parting before us, their whispers a susurrus of false congratulations.

Elias beamed as we reached him, his blue eyes alight with triumph.

"Hello, love," he murmured, lifting my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles.

I forced a smile.

Ezra stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"Thank you all for gathering here today to witness the mating ceremony of my sister, Lilac Blackwood, and Councilman Elias Brown." His voice carried easily over the crowd. "But before we proceed, I have a gift for my sister."

A projector flickered to life behind him, casting images onto a white screen.

The first slide was innocent enough. Elias and I were dancing at some pack event, his hand on my waist, my smile strained but passable.

The next was worse. Us on a couch, his arm around me, his head tilted to mine like lovers sharing a secret.

Slide after slide flashed by, each more damning than the last, the crowd cooing at the carefully constructed illusion.

Then the video started.

The collective gasp was audible.

There, in stark clarity, was Elias. Naked. On his knees.

With another woman.

The footage was grainy but unmistakable, his hands gripping her hips, his mouth on her throat, her moans loud enough to echo across the garden.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Elias's face drained of color. "This— this isn't—"