Peniel
No, I don’t want to be seen in a ballroom full of elites. I don’t want to surround myself with the very reason why the Alpha King decided to kill my mother. Without them, it would have been easier. But now, the time has come—I’m in the dress for the ball, and my grandmother’s words echo in my mind.
"Dance with your fated mates…”
But to me, the ball wasn’t about beauty or elegance. It was a political snare. The elites—the same people who had turned a blind eye to the Alpha King's reign of terror—would be there. They were complicit, even if their hands weren’t stained with blood. It was their silence, their passive approval. What makes them more powerful is that they let the weak ones bleed to death.
Rogues. That cursed word—the name of the enemy. My enemy, they said. But I am t
