Princess' Sweet Revenge

The Moonlight Auction House glittered with opulence as I slipped through the grand entrance, my fingers instinctively tightening around the small bottle of heart medication in my pocket. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across the assembled werewolves, their polished appearance a stark contrast to my simple dress—the best I owned, yet still unmistakably beneath the standards of this gathering.

"Omega section is in the back," a security guard murmured, not unkindly, as he gestured toward the rear of the massive hall.

I nodded, swallowing the familiar ache of humiliation. Even at the annual Pack Auction—supposedly open to all werewolves regardless of rank—the hierarchy remained rigid as bone.

The back section was already filling with other Omegas, their postures mirroring my own: slightly hunched, eyes downcast. We were the pack's invisible members, present but unseen, unless someone needed something.

From my seat in the shadows, I had a perfect view of the VIP front row. My breath caught as Logan Marshall, Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack, strode in with Milana Baker clinging to his arm. His powerful aura preceded him—dominant, commanding, unmistakably Alpha. Several wolves instinctively lowered their gazes as he passed.

"Isn't she beautiful?" whispered the Omega beside me, nodding toward Milana.

Milana Baker was indeed stunning—sleek dark hair cascading over shoulders draped in designer silk, her smile radiant as she claimed her seat beside Logan. The diamond necklace at her throat caught the light with every movement, a deliberate display of wealth and status.

"She's his chosen mate," I replied softly, my voice barely audible even to myself.

"Not his true mate," the other Omega corrected, then immediately looked around to ensure no one had overheard her indiscretion.

I said nothing. What was there to say? Logan was my fated mate—the Moon Goddess had decreed it. Yet he had chosen Milana, leaving me to navigate the painful limbo of being an unwanted true mate.

The auctioneer, Vincent Stone, took his position at the podium. "Welcome to the grand annual Pack Auction! Tonight we offer rare artifacts, ceremonial items, and treasures from across all territories."

One by one, items appeared on the display platform—ancient scrolls, silver ceremonial bowls, rare herbs preserved in crystal vials. Each commanded impressive sums as pack members vied for these treasures.

Then Vincent's voice rose with particular excitement. "Next, we present an item of extraordinary significance—the sacred Moon Stone!"

A collective gasp rippled through the hall as assistants unveiled a glowing blue orb, pulsing with ethereal light. The Moon Stone was legendary—said to strengthen mate bonds, heal wounded hearts, and bring the blessing of the Moon Goddess herself.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Vincent announced, "this sacred artifact will be offered without reserve. Bidding starts at one million dollars."

Milana's hand shot up immediately, her red bidding paddle flashing like a warning signal. "One million," she called, her voice carrying effortlessly through the hall.

"Two million," came a voice from another VIP section—a Beta from the Northern Pack.

Milana's smile tightened. "Three million."

Something stirred within me—a desperate hope, a foolish longing. The Moon Stone could heal broken bonds, couldn't it? Could it perhaps remind Logan of what we once shared?

Before I could think better of it, my hand trembled upward, paddle clutched between white knuckles. "Five million," I called, my voice smaller than I intended.

A ripple of surprise moved through the hall. Heads turned. Whispers began.

Milana's eyes found mine, narrowing with disbelief that quickly hardened into contempt. "Ten million," she countered smoothly.

"Fifteen million," I responded, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The bidding escalated rapidly. Twenty million. Thirty. Forty.

"Forty-five million," Milana called, her composure cracking slightly.

"Fifty million," I countered, knowing I couldn't possibly afford it, knowing my meager savings and the mortgage on my mother's jade pendant wouldn't cover even a fraction of this sum.

But something had taken hold of me—desperation, perhaps. Or maybe the last ember of hope that Logan might remember our bond.

Milana's paddle trembled in her hand. "Fifty-five million."

"Sixty million," I called, my voice steadier now.

The room fell silent. Even Vincent seemed momentarily stunned by this unexpected competition.

"Going once... going twice..."

Milana's face flushed crimson. She turned to Logan, whispering urgently, but he remained stone-faced.

"Sold to Omega Sunny Gordon for sixty million dollars," Vincent announced.

The silence that followed was deafening—until Logan rose from his seat. His Alpha aura flooded the auction house like a physical force, pressing against my skin with suffocating intensity.

"Interesting," he said, his voice deceptively soft as he turned to face me. "It seems we have an Omega who doesn't understand her place."

His eyes—once warm when they looked at me—were now glacial with fury. "You've just bought yourself more than a stone, little Omega. You've purchased a lesson in respect that I promise you'll never forget."

The pack members around me shifted uncomfortably, averting their eyes. No one intervened. No one dared challenge an Alpha's wrath.

As Logan's gaze burned into mine, I realized with sickening clarity that I had just made a powerful enemy—and possibly sealed my fate.