My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 178

Chapter 178: Chapter 178 UPSIDE-DOWN DIMENSION

CELESTE’S POV

The whiskey burned down my throat like liquid fire.

I slammed the glass onto the counter and motioned for another. The bartender hesitated—probably because I’d already had too many—but one glare from me and he poured anyway.

Bass thumped through Luna Noire’s overhead speakers, vibrating against the wood and metal like a pulse I couldn’t silence.

Around me, laughter and wolf-scent mingled thickly with alcohol and desperation.

I hated it. I hated all of it. The stench of weak wolves pretending to matter. The way they looked at me now—like I was just another pretty mess, not the Lockwood princess I was. Not the Blackthorne Queen I was supposed to be.

My reflection in the mirror behind the bar looked like a stranger—smudged lipstick, dark-ringed eyes too bright, too sharp, too furious. I barely recognized myself.

My mother’s words still rang in my ears, louder than the music.

‘You’ve done enough damage, Celeste,’ she’d said, her hands shaking as she gathered up the cookie mess her graceless grandson had made.

‘I’m your daughter!’ I had screamed. ‘You never said that to Sera when she ruined everything!’

‘Sera didn’t ruin anything!” She’d glared at me. ‘I’m just sorry it took so long to see that. You just can’t stand that the world stopped revolving around you.’

‘You pretentious bitch!’ I’d spat out. ‘You put a crown on my head and now are shocked when I want to rule?’

My cheek still throbbed from the slap she’d given me, and the memory cut sharper than the drink.

I’d hurled her treasured crystal vase—Father’s gift for their twentieth anniversary—against the wall, shards scattering as I stormed out of the manor. I didn’t look back; I couldn’t bear to. And my mother didn’t make any attempt to follow or call after me.

Not like she’d called for Sera.

That memory burned too—the image of my bitch sister leaving, her perfect little son clutching her hand, Mother teary-eyed behind them.

Now here I was.

I couldn’t call Ethan; he was on Sera’s side, too. Every time I dialed Kieran, it went straight to voicemail.

And I would sooner slit my own throat than have Abby and Emma witness my humiliating fall from grace.

So I was all alone.

The great Celeste Lockwood, future Luna of nothing.

On the TV above the bar, a broadcast replay of the stupid fucking LST that people wouldn’t shut up about flickered.

Of course, in the universal conspiracy to mock me, the screen cut to Sera and her team. And there my sister stood, serene and composed, her fair hair gleaming under the lights as she stood in that champion’s stance, commanding respect she didn’t deserve.

The caption read: ‘Lockwood heiress reclaims her power.’

My blood boiled.

What a load of bullshit.

“She’s not the heiress,” I muttered, gripping my glass so tight my knuckles went white. Fuck, everything was upside down. “I was supposed to be that. Me.”

“Talking to yourself, sweetheart?” a voice drawled from behind me.

I turned—three men leaned against the bar, all broad-shouldered and grinning the kind of grin that made my skin crawl. Low-ranked wolves whose inebriation made them stupid.

Ugh, Luna Noire was scraping the barrel in terms of clientele.

“Leave me alone,” I said flatly, turning back to my drink.

But they didn’t. One slid closer. “A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be drinking alone. What pack are you from?”

“The one that would tear your throat out if you touched me.” I didn’t even look at him.

I ignored the small stab of pain when I realized I wasn’t even sure Frostbane wolves would actually ever come to my aid if I was in trouble. “Now get lost.”

That should’ve done it. But my tone—icy, sharp—just made them laugh.

“Feisty,” one said, fingers brushing my arm. A shiver of revulsion spread through my body from the point of contact. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re just trying to be friendly.”

“Don’t touch me.” I shoved his hand off, but the movement made my vision tilt. Too much whiskey.

At the spike of panic, my wolf stirred faintly under my skin—but didn’t respond. I’d been suppressing her for almost a year, and now she was barely a whisper inside me.

The man’s smile twisted. “Don’t play hard to get. It’s not hot.”

“Back off,” I snapped. But my voice shook. The bar was too loud, the lights too dim. A few other patrons noticed but looked away—no one wanted to get involved in a wolf fight after dark.

One of them grabbed my wrist, yanking me from the stool. Pain shot through my arm. “Let go!” I hissed, trying to twist free. But the alcohol made me sluggish. Their laughter turned cruel.

“You think you’re too good for us, huh?” the second man jeered. “What are you, some Alpha’s brat?”

‘And sister and fiancé, you dick.’ But my tongue was too heavy to form the words. Maybe I should have tattooed my forehead like Elara had suggested.

I stumbled, heart pounding as the room spun. My wolf whimpered, powerless. I swung wildly, hitting one square in the chest, but he barely flinched.

Then, just as panic clawed up my throat, threatening to cut off my air supply, the atmosphere shifted.

A dark, commanding growl ripped through the space, low and lethal.

“Touch her again,” a voice said from the shadows, “and I’ll break every bone in your worthless body.”

The grip on my wrist vanished instantly. The men froze, and my breath hitched as the crowd parted, revealing the man who’d spoken.

For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating.

Of all the people in the world who could have walked into the bar I chose to wallow in tonight...

No, it wasn’t possible.

It couldn’t be him.

My pulse stuttered.

And yet—

It was.

***

SERAPHINA’S POV

I didn’t sleep well.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kieran’s face—the flash of agony in his eyes when I told him I didn’t want him.

The desperation in his voice echoed in my mind, over and over—‘I just want...you’—until exhaustion finally dragged me under.

But even then, sleep wasn’t peace. Somewhere in the distance, an anguished howl had ripped through the night—raw, wounded, relentless.

I wasn’t sure if it was real or something my heart conjured from guilt, but it lodged itself in my mind like an echo I couldn’t silence, vibrating through my bones and skin till it felt like it was coming out of me.

Morning took forever to come, but finally, warm, bright light filtered in through my blinds.

The faint scent of vanilla and pancakes greeted me before I even opened my eyes. My lids were heavy as I blinked awake, groggy and slightly disoriented, more exhausted than when I’d fallen asleep.

I was just stretching, wondering why Daniel’s side of the bed was empty, when the door gently creaked open.

“Morning, Mom,” my son said shyly from the doorway, flour dusting his cheek.

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