Rogue Alpha's Sweet Trap Chapter 82: Not out of generosity

If he had gone to Dawn Isle for answers about , then it couldn’t have been out of generosity. That much I was sure of.

Maybe he needed to have full command over my wolf because he couldn’t afford weakness in one of the keys. If I was ant to play a part in breaking the wards of the Celestial Wolf, then my struggles to shift would only hold him back.

Yes. That had to be it. He wasn’t doing it for . He was doing it for what I could beco—what I was worth to him.

So why would I feel sorry that he hurt himself for trying to et the Great Sage?

"Ares said they’ll be back before dinner," Raye said, setting down her apple. The light caught on her new necklace, a delicate thing that glimred against her collarbone. She noticed my glance and smiled, tapping the gem with her finger. "We’ll be having a eting. You included."

My fork froze halfway to my mouth. "?"

"Yes. We’ll be talking about the keys to the wards of the Undersea Tower. Since you have a bargain with the Alpha, you’ll need to be aware of certain things too."

The words settled uneasily in my chest. Keys. Wards. Undersea Tower. The way she said them so casually made it sound like ordinary business, when I knew anything related to the Celestail Wolf wasn’t sothing to be treated lightly.

Before I could ask more, Raye pushed her plate aside and leaned across the table, her eyes gleaming with excitent.

"Co out with . There’s a seamstress in the central district I’ve been dying to visit. She runs one of the biggest shops in the city."

"A seamstress?" I arched a brow. "Why would I need that?"

She blinked at , horrified. "For the Moon Festival, of course!"

The words stirred half-buried mories. The Moon Festival—one of the great celebrations of the packs. Big parties. Music that shook the ground. Wolves racing beneath the harvest moon, voices raised in song and howl. It was always celebrated every year, a tradition rooted in their connection to the Moon Goddess.

"That’s next month," I said.

"Exactly," Raye replied, her grin infectious. "And it’s not just one night. We do it differently here. There are days of festivities leading up to it. The whole city becos one endless celebration. Contests of strength, contests, wolf hunts, feasts, dancing until dawn."

"And for this," I said dryly, "you need a gown."

"Not just ." She reached across the table to tap my hand, her voice suddenly firm. "You too."

"You’ll thank later." She stood, already brushing crumbs from her skirts. "The seamstress is already working on mine, but I want her to make you sothing. Consider it my gift."

"Raye—"

"No argunts," she cut in, her grin returning. "If you stand beside during the Moon Festival in those plain tunics, I’ll never forgive you."

I sighed, defeated, though amusent tugged faintly at my mouth. "Fine."

Her laugh rang like bells. "Just wait, you’ll see how fun this can be."

We left soon after, making our way through the winding streets of the central district.

The Undercity was never truly quiet, but as we drew closer to the heart of it, the noise grew livelier. rchants called out their wares, spices and silks perfuming the air, children darting between legs with sticky sweets clutched in their fists. Lanterns were strung across the wide street ahead, their colored glass winking.

The famous seamstress’s shop was impossible to miss. It was grand, two floors of carved stone with wide glass windows displaying gowns.

Inside, the air slled faintly of lavender and fabric dye. Bolts of cloth lined the walls: silks that shimred like water, velvets deep as midnight, gauzes so fine they looked spun from mist.

The seamstress herself swept toward us, tall and severe, a silver tape asure draped around her neck.

"Raye!" she greeted warmly, though her sharp eyes flicked imdiately to . "And who is this?"

"This is Vivien," Raye said brightly, pulling forward as though she’d caught herself a prize. "She needs sothing for the Moon Festival."

The seamstress circled once, assessing as though I were a puzzle to be solved. "Hazel eyes... dark hair... sharp features. Hmm I think I know what would suit you." Without asking, she slipped the tape asure around my waist. "Yes. Sothing elegant, but commanding."

I shot Raye a look, but she only bead. "Yes, make her very pretty," she told the seamstress.

"I’m fine with anything actually."

The seamstress didn’t seem to hear . She was already calling for assistants, who brought out armfuls of shimring fabrics. I endured the asuring in silence, though Raye’s delight was impossible to ignore.

While the seamstress scribbled notes, Raye turned to , her excitent spilling out in a rush.

"You’ll love the festival, Vivien. The hunting contests are my favorite. Ares usually wins, though Jeron claims it’s only because Ares cheats with his superior wolf’s nose."

"And Diaval?" I asked, curiosity slipping past my guard.

She rolled her eyes fondly. "He always enters the duels. Last year he nearly got himself killed, but he insists he’ll try again. He’s very competitive, you know."

"And you?"

"I compete in the treasure hunting," she said proudly. "Usually the treasures are old and rare jewels, the ones I like the most." She winked.

I shook my head, but her laughter was warm, unguarded, and for a mont I let myself imagine it: lanterns strung across the streets, wolves running beneath the full moon, music and firelight blending into one endless night.

For the first ti in a long while, it almost sounded like sothing worth looking forward to.

We spent the rest of the day going to shops, eating different kinds of food, and by the ti we were back to the castle, it was twilight.

"The Alpha and the Betas are waiting for you in the eting room," Vincent told us the mont we stepped inside.