If Celeste had a silver for every time someone did something wildly inappropriate on the pack grounds, she could fund a Luna fashion line with matching capes for every moon cycle.

But this? This was a new level of bold.

She stepped out onto the patio that had become an accidental press circle—reporters with mics, members of the pack watching like it was a soap opera, and at the center of it all, Marissa. Blond, smug, and holding court like she was hosting the Real Housewives of Shadow ...