CHAPTER 205: THE FESTIVAL

Hailee’s POV

I had just taken my bath when a soft knock came at my door.

"Come in," I gestured.

The door creaked open, and one of the maids stepped in, carrying a carefully folded dress draped over her arms. It was a deep shade of blue. It was silky and elegant.

"Alpha Callum asked me to bring this for you, ma’am," she said gently, lowering her gaze in respect. "He said it would suit you for tonight’s festival."

I stared at it for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Thank you."

She curtsied slightly and left, shutting the door silently behind her.

The room fell quiet again, and I turned back to the dress. It was beautiful — the kind of thing meant for royalty. But right now, it felt like a costume. Like I was dressing up for a life that didn’t fit me anymore.

Still, I put it on.

The fabric slid against my skin, cool and soft. I stood before the mirror, adjusting the straps, brushing my hair over one shoulder. From the outside, I looked fine—graceful even. But inside, my chest was a storm.

Tomorrow, I would have to face Nathan.

I didn’t know how. I didn’t even know what I’d say.

Would he look at me with hate?

Would he ignore me completely?

Or worse—would he spit at me?

I pressed a trembling hand against my chest. "You have to hold it together," I whispered to myself.

Taking a deep breath, I slipped on my shoes and stepped out of the room.

The sound of laughter and light chatter drifted from below. As I reached the staircase, my heart tightened.

There they were—Callum and the boys—waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.

Oscar noticed me first. "Mom," he said, smiling softly. "You look nice."

Ozzy smirked. "More like fancy."

Ozzy added quietly, "Sir Callum was right. Blue suits you."

I smiled at them, and then my eyes interlocked with Callum’s.

He stood there, hands in his pockets, dressed in a dark suit that fit him perfectly. His hair was neatly brushed back, his presence calm but commanding—the kind of man everyone stopped to look at.

"Ready?" he asked softly.

I nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "Yes."

As I reached the last step, he extended a hand to me. It was a small gesture—polite, almost formal—but when I placed my hand in his, something about it made my throat tighten.

He didn’t speak. He only held my hand a moment longer than necessary, his thumb brushing my skin gently before letting go.

The boys were already talking about the festival—about the games, the fireworks, and what food they wanted to try. Their excitement filled the hallway with noise and life.

But I couldn’t match their energy.

My smile felt thin, brittle.

Callum’s gaze lingered on me for a second longer. I could tell he noticed. He always did. But instead of saying anything, he placed a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and said lightly, "Let’s not keep everyone waiting. The moon will rise soon."

The boys cheered, running ahead.

I followed slowly beside Callum.

He didn’t ask what was wrong. I believe he already knew.

As we stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapped around us. The scent of pine and faint smoke drifted from the yard ahead, where the festival fires were already being lit.

I tried to breathe it in, to calm my racing heart. But all I could think about was tomorrow—and the moment I’d have to stand before Nathan, look into his eyes, and face him after everything.

The drive to the yard was short, but it felt endless. My palms were damp, my pulse too fast. Every street we passed was strung with silver ribbons and lanterns that shimmered like stars. Children ran between the stalls with glowing bracelets, laughter filling the air. It was supposed to be a night of celebration, but all I could feel was the tightness in my chest.

When we arrived, the car stopped near the festival grounds. The moment I stepped out, hundreds of eyes seemed to turn in our direction. Callum walked beside me, tall and composed, one hand resting lightly on my lower back as a silent reassurance. The boys trailed just ahead, their excitement obvious.

But people kept staring.

I could hear the whispers.

"Who’s she?"

"That’s her, isn’t it?"

"The woman staying with the Alpha..."

"She’s not one of us."

My throat tightened, but I lifted my chin anyway. I refused to let them see how much their words affected me.

The crowd parted as we walked deeper into the yard. Pack members nodded politely to Callum but quickly looked away when their eyes landed on me. Some women whispered behind their hands. The men only stared.

I kept my eyes forward until I saw the council elders.

They stood together near the ceremonial circle, their expressions carved from stone.

I recognized each face. The same ones who had glared at me during the last meeting. The same ones who saw me as nothing but trouble.

Their eyes followed me as I passed — cold, assessing, unwelcoming.

I held my head high. If they wanted to see weakness, they would be disappointed.

And then I saw her.

Montana.

She stood a few steps away from the torch line, her hair pulled into a perfect braid, her lips painted red. The moment our eyes met, her expression darkened into a deep frown.

For a second, everything around me faded — the laughter, the music, the lights — all gone. It was just her and me, two women locked in a silent battle that didn’t need words.

Her gaze dropped slowly to where Callum walked beside me, then back up to my face. The anger in her eyes deepened, and in that moment, I remembered the threatening letter someone had sent me.

Could she be the one?

The one who sent that letter?

You have touched the lion’s tail. Be ready to get burnt.

The words echoed in my head.

There was every possibility it was her.

In fact, I was sure of it.