Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle-Chapter 22: Alpha’s Gala.

The night sky was a canvas of inky darkness, adorned with scattered stars and a pale half-moon that cast eerie shadows over the land below. The air carried a crisp chill, a quiet whisper of the looming night, while the grand werewolf city pulsed with life. Laughter and chattering voices intertwined with the soft hum of music, creating a symphony of celebration.

Exotic carriages, drawn by majestic beasts, rolled smoothly through the wide streets at a leisurely pace. Each carriage bore the insignia of powerful families, their status reflected in the rich fabrics and intricate embroidery of the maids who accompanied them. Dressed in an array of colors, the maids walked alongside their respective carriages, heads bowed, faces hidden beneath delicate veils.

Tonight was no ordinary night, it was the Alpha's Gala, an event of immense significance. A tradition upheld for centuries, the gala marked the union of a new Alpha Emperor and his Lunar Empress. Only the most influential werewolves were permitted to attend, making it not only a celebration but also a rare opportunity for unmated werewolves to discover their fated partners. Destiny itself was known to weave its magic on such nights.

A striking carriage, its glossy black exterior adorned with gold embellishments, approached the palace gates. Inside sat Lord Dimitri Nightshade, his ever-composed expression revealing little of his thoughts. Beside him were Arata and Mira, his two wives, both dressed in opulent gowns befitting their status. Their beauty was undeniable, but their rivalry simmered beneath their polished exteriors.

Trailing behind the carriage, Sorayah walked silently, her steps measured, her gaze fixed ahead. She was dressed as a simple maid, blending into the procession of servants, yet there was an air about her that set her apart. Another woman, the same bully raven-black hair and a veiled face, walked beside her. Despite the fine cloth that obscured her features, was unmistakable, her rage vibrated through the air like a caged beast.

"You managed to rise in rank, didn't you, you little bitch?" the raven-haired woman spat, her voice laced with venom. Though Sorayah couldn't see her face, she could hear the fury behind her words. The woman's arms were heavily bandaged, stark reminders of Dimitri's punishment. Her hands, once instruments of cruelty, had been severed, a just retribution for her role in orchestrating an incident that had nearly cost Sorayah her life. Werewolves healed quickly, but lost limbs will not regenerate.

Sorayah had remained silent, lost in thought, her mind carefully mapping out the next stage of her survival in this treacherous world. But now, she turned her head slightly, lips curling into a smirk that, though hidden beneath her veil, was audible in her voice.

"Perhaps next time, you'll think twice before crossing me," she mused, her tone light but cutting. "I'd say this is justice, wouldn't you? And, of course, with no hands left, I suppose your bullying days are over."

"You....!" The woman's entire body stiffened with rage, her breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. "I swear, you filthy human, I will make you pay for this!" Her voice was barely above a whisper, mindful of Dimitri's presence. His wrath was something even she dared not provoke.

Sorayah let out a low chuckle. "Oh? You want to try?" She took a step closer, her voice a sultry whisper, laced with amusement. "Be my guest. Just know that next time... you may lose more than just your hands. Perhaps your legs? Or would you prefer your tongue?"

The veiled woman trembled, but before she could retaliate, a hush swept over the gathering.

It was Dimitri.

His presence was like a storm, silent, yet suffocating. The crowd instinctively stilled, wary of the Beta Lord, the ruthless general whose mere name sent shivers down spines. None dared to meet his gaze directly, for to insult him was to insult the Alpha Emperor himself. He was second in command, the sword and shield of the empire. Even those who cursed him in private would never dare utter a word against him in public.

Dimitri stepped out of the carriage as well as his two wives, Arata and Mira. His piercing eyes scanning the assembled guests before turning towards the grand entrance of the palace. Without a word, Sorayah and the other maids followed, their silent procession a stark contrast to the lavish celebration unfolding ahead.

The gala was held in the grand courtyard before the palace, where long tables draped in luxurious silks stretched across the space. Each influential household had a designated seating area, facing one another in a way that allowed for both conversation and veiled rivalry. In the center, an open space had been left for performances, dancers, musicians, and illusionists hired to entertain the elite. The air was thick with the scent of wine, roasted meats, and exotic flowers, mingling with the sound of laughter and the strumming of stringed instruments.

Dimitri took his seat at the main table, his posture regal, his expression unreadable. At his sides, Arata and Mira gracefully settled into their designated seats, their movements practiced and elegant. As a mere maid, Sorayah remained standing beside Dimitri, her presence a quiet shadow against the grandeur of the evening. Beside Arata and Mira, their personal attendants stood at attention, ready to serve their every need.

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Sorayah's gaze drifted toward the palace's grand entrance, where rows of armored guards stood at attention, their posture rigid, their expressions unreadable. The massive golden gate gleamed under the moonlight, an impenetrable fortress protecting the very man she despised most in the world.

A sharp sting pricked her palms. She looked down. Her fingernails had dug so deep into her flesh that beads of blood welled up, slipping down her fingers in thin rivulets. She hadn't even noticed the pain.

This is where you live, Lupien.

Hatred burned in her eyes, a fire so intense it nearly consumed her whole.

You must think you can live a peaceful life after taking mine. You must think you can sleep soundly after ripping my home apart, after murdering my parents, after leaving me an orphan in a single night.

Her breathing grew heavier, but she forced herself to remain still, blending into the background like any other lowly maid in attendance. No one could know what was truly brewing in her heart.

But you're wrong.