Chapter 4: The Dress of Blood

I looked at him with cold, bitter eyes.

Was Julian finally starting to remember what I told him that day?

When I reached out to him when my voice cracked through the bond I wasn’t just speaking. I was crying out for help, my wolf clawing beneath my skin, begging for our mate to come.

But he never did.

And now, watching him act like he cared? Who was he trying to fool me, the pack, or himself? Certainly not me. My wolf stirred restlessly inside, the echo of betrayal still sharp in her chest.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Camilla said sharply, her tone confident and dismissive, her eyes glinting like ice. “If Elena had truly been murdered, there would be a clear motive. If it were for dominance, for power, or territory the Alpha heir’s mate would’ve been claimed, not discarded. Her scent would’ve been paraded, not erased.”

She tilted her head, calculating. “And if it was jealousy if someone hated her enough to attack the dress would’ve been shredded in rage, not carefully removed and set adrift in the river. That’s not how wolves act in passion. It’s too… clean..It doesn’t add up.”

Her logic slithered like venom, calm and composed, but every word made my ghost snarl. She was playing the same game the manipulative little sister who smiled while twisting the knife deeper.

“I agree,” Julian said finally, a flicker of hope flicking across his face desperate, uncertain. “Was there anything else at the scene? A trace of her scent? Her jewelry? The bond mark? Anything?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Officer Harris replied, his voice solemn. “There were faint traces of her energy, but no physical trail. No blood, no fur, no weapon. Whoever did this knew how to cover their tracks.”

Camilla crossed her arms, her smirk widening. “Then it’s obvious. Elena staged this herself. She probably took off the dress, slashed it a little, spilled her own blood, and sent it downriver. She’s always loved attention. This is exactly her style.”

“She’s always been like this, seeking attention,” came a sharp, cutting voice from behind.

My mother.

I turned, instinctively baring my teeth though no one could see me. She entered the station like she owned the territory cold, commanding, every step deliberate. The rest of the Morrigan family followed close behind, each of them playing their roles perfectly: distant, superior, and utterly heartless.

“Mrs. Morrigan, please calm down,” Officer Harris said gently, sensing the crackle of dominance in her aura.

“Calm down?” she hissed, her tone venomous. “You look old enough to have your own family, Officer. So tell me if your daughter turned on her own pack, humiliated her bloodline, and brought shame to your name, would you be able to stay calm?”

My brother, Nolan Morrigan, glanced down at the silver band around his wrist his status tracker, engraved with the Morrigan crest and sighed. “Alpha Harris, we have demanding duties to attend to. We came here out of respect for the Council’s summons, but this is honestly beneath us. These childish accusations aren’t worth our attention.”

I stood in the shadowed corner of the den, unseen by mortal eyes but painfully aware of every word. My chest felt hollow. My heart what was left of it ached with a quiet, dull pain.

I looked at the three wolves who were supposed to be my family my mother, my father, and Nolan and all I felt was emptiness. Once, I would have done anything for their approval. I used to fight for their attention, to earn even the faintest sign of affection.

But now, their faces cold, perfect, and proud were nothing but masks. Their scents no longer smelled like home.

When did they stop seeing me as one of them?

When did I become their shame instead of their blood?

Some of the pack officers shifted uncomfortably. Their wolves could sense the tension in the room, the way dominance pressed and twisted between the Morrigans and the rest of us. Finally, one of them a young Beta with honest eyes spoke up.

“She’s your blood,” he said, his tone edged with disbelief. “Your daughter. Your sister. She’s missing her bond trail ends at the Silver Shore, and her energy signature has gone cold. Are none of you even concerned?”

My mother laughed softly a cruel, melodic sound that scraped down my spine like claws. “Believe me, I know Elena better than anyone,” she said, brushing an invisible speck from her designer jacket. “That girl’s wolf has thicker hide than a berserker’s. She doesn’t break easily and she’s mated to the Hale heir. Who would dare touch a marked Luna?”

She picked up her purse, her aura snapping with irritation. “If there’s nothing useful to say, I have a council meeting to attend.”

The moment they were dismissed, my family left just like that.

No questions.

No hesitation.

Just relief that this nuisance was over.

As they passed the door, I caught my mother muttering under her breath, “Unbelievable. I didn’t even finish my spa treatment, and now I have to waste time over this nonsense.”

Camilla followed close behind, flashing her sweetest smile. “Your coat looks amazing, Mother. And your nails goddess, where did you get them done?”

My mother’s expression softened, pride flickering in her eyes. “I’ll take you there later, dear. We’ll do a full facial too. Honestly, if Elena had been more like you, maybe I wouldn’t have aged so fast. I swear I found two new wrinkles this week.”

Their laughter drifted down the hall like poisoned honey, fading into silence as they disappeared leaving behind nothing but cold air and the faint trace of expensive perfume.

And then, there was only Julian.

He hadn’t said a word since he walked in. He sat there, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor every line of his body screaming quiet rage.

“Alpha Hale,” one of the officers began carefully, “did Luna Morrigan try to reach you before she vanished? We know you left the mating ceremony without explanation. It’s possible she felt rejected, emotionally unstable… she might have done something reckless. If you know anything, please tell us.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. I could feel his wolf flare beneath his skin sharp, protective, furious.

Julian’s jaw clenched. The air around him shifted, humming with suppressed dominance. “There’s no body,” he growled, voice low and lethal. “No trace of her scent. No signs of a struggle. Nothing. So don’t sit there and talk like she’s dead.”

“She’s your mate!” the officer pressed, raising his voice slightly.

Julian’s eyes snapped up, glowing faintly the color of stormlight before a strike. “Exactly. My mate. And I’d feel it if she were gone.”

He slammed his hand against the oak table, splintering the wood. “So until you find proof until you find her keep your speculations to yourself.”

Without another word, he turned and stormed out, his scent of cedar and frost trailing behind him.

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