Chapter 34
Flora's POV
After Lysa left me by myself, I began to self-reflect. A part of me wanted to continue pursuing him; a part thought of the consequences. I pushed that to the back of my mind for now, as I focused my gaze on the dress that was delivered to me earlier today. Tomorrow is the last day of the party. I'm certain he'll show up. I'll wait for him.
I heard a knock on my door. "Come in."
"Miss..."
"Nanny...?"
"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with that...!"
"Nanny, there's nothing wrong with Lysa. She's a good person. I don't know why you dislike her so much, but she cares for me just like you do."
"Miss, you don't understand. She doesn't..."
"Nanny, I don't want to hear anything bad about Lysa anymore. You always talk bad about her. Every time, don't you feel guilty? I mean, she's innocent of everything you have accused her of. Until now, when are you going to stop?"
I yelled at my nanny for the first time. She is like a mother to me, but she's going too far. She's been too mean to Lysa for no reason.
"I'm sorry, Miss... But I still insist you let go of Young Master Nicolas, as he is already engaged. Not only would it ruin the young miss's reputation, but it might also affect Master if this leaks out."
'Again with her nagging. Yes, I know it might affect father, but I want this. And if Nicolas has the same feelings for me, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I'll be his Luna.'
"What if he feels the same way for me?" My nanny stared at me for a moment, and I felt a shiver run down my spine at her gaze.
"Alpha Jones wouldn't allow it, you know that. He is a cunning man. Trust me, Flora, I have lived longer than you, and he's not someone you would want to even think of messing with..."
"Look, Flora, ever since your mother passed away, I promised to take care of you until you no longer need me. But watching you go astray like this is hurting me." She was in tears, holding my hands. I want to argue with her that the risk was not worth it, but Lysa's words flashed in my mind.
"Or maybe he's been silent because he felt too much." "And what if I told you he did come back?"
"My heart began to race. If he does love me and I end up becoming the Luna of the Royal pack, it's even of greater advantage to father." I voiced my thoughts only to get a look of disappointment from my nanny.
He is already betrothed, not just to any pack but a leading pack, and not just to anyone but Princess Viona, the commander of the Nightclaw Unit.
I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest, not from heartache but from anger. How could she say this to me? She knew I liked him since we met, but now an outsider is supporting me, but she isn't?
"Nicolas is kind to you, yes," she said carefully, "but kindness does not always mean love. You mustn't build castles in the sky, child. He is his father's son, and Alpha Jones has already announced Viona as the future daughter-in-law."
I stopped abruptly, my eyes narrowing. "Are you saying I should give up?"
"You think I should step aside for that porcelain doll just because she's backed by that arrogant tyrant?"
"Flora...! I'm saying you must protect your heart," she said gently. "Don't let hope blind you. Nicolas may care for you, but caring is not the same as fighting for you. He might not have the strength to go against his father."
"Strength?" I scoffed, throwing my manners out the window.
"You think I don't know him? Do you remember my birthday? He gave me a gift first, before Viona. That necklace—he had it custom made! He didn't do that out of pity or obligation."
I could feel my voice raise, and my cheeks flushed. "And you dare stand here and insinuate that I'm inferior to her?"
"I never said you were inferior," my nanny defended quickly, stepping forward, her voice laced with concern. "But the Royals don't make choices based on affection. They choose alliances, status, legacy—"
"Legacy be damned!" I barked, finally at my limit, slamming my hand against the edge of the dresser.
"Don't talk to me about their cold, calculated games! Nicolas knows how I feel about him. And I know he feels the same. I see it when he looks at me. I feel it."
My voice cracked slightly at the edges, not with sadness, but fury. I stormed closer to my nanny.
"You've been with me since I was born. You tucked me in when I cried. You told me I was strong, deserving of love. And now you stand there—you, of all people—and tell me to accept defeat? To cower in the shadow of some doll-faced aristocrat?"
"I am trying to shield you, Flora," my nanny cried, her voice breaking now. "You are like my own daughter. But love—real love—isn't just what someone feels in private. It's what they're willing to risk in public. If Nicolas won't stand up to his father for you, then—"
SLAP!
The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot. My nanny's head jerked sideways, a red handprint blooming across her cheek.
I stood frozen, breathing heavily, my chest heaving.
The older woman lifted her hand slowly to her face, her eyes wide, hurt glistening in them.
I didn't mean to hurt her; I have never done this before. I just felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and reacted without thinking.
"Leave," I said coldly, my voice low, "Get out of my room."
"Flora..."
"I said leave!"
She stood there a moment longer, sorrow etched into every wrinkle on her face. She turned wordlessly and walked out, closing the door behind her with a soft click that felt louder than the slap.
Alone, I stood trembling, my hands balled tightly at my sides. My gaze darted to the vanity where the necklace from Nicolas gleamed under the lamplight.
"She's wrong," I whispered fiercely, staring into the mirror at my flushed face. "He will choose me. He has to."
But even as the words left my mouth, doubt crept in—quiet, like fog slipping through a window crack. I crushed it with a snarl and tossed the necklace back onto the table with a clatter.
My eyes flicked to the door, where my nanny had stood moments before. A flicker of guilt twisted in my gut, but I buried it, locking it deep behind layers of pride.
I'm not going to lose. Not to Viona. Not to anyone.
Not ever.
"She's wrong. Nicolas does love me; he just doesn't want to acknowledge it yet."
Chapter 35
Viona Pov
The thudding of war drums was still echoing in my head as we rode through the silver gates of the Levites pack house. Blood clung to my armor like an unshakable second skin, dirt streaked my face, and my muscles ached from hours of combat, but I kept my back straight and chin high. We had won - barely. And now, here we were, riding into the heart of our pack as if we hadn't just clawed through hell to get here.
The final day of the Grand Union Party. And everyone was there.
Rows upon rows of guests lined the courtyard, dressed in velvet and silk, their polished shoes untouched by mud, their faces powdered and pristine. Music played softly, elegant and calm - so infuriatingly out of sync with the storm that still raged inside her.
I swung off her horse in one smooth motion, my cloak billowing behind me like the wings of a fallen angel. The moment my feet touched the marble ground, applause erupted, thunderous and hollow.
All the Alphas were present. Their eyes gleamed with something between respect and calculation. My siblings stood holding the hands of their mother proudly, Ariel giving me a quick wink that made my lips twitch. Uncles with silver beards and stern faces nodded solemnly.
Nicolas was here too - gods, Nicolas stood a bit apart from them, his hands behind his back, eyes scanning her face like he was memorizing it. Mirage stood beside him, with a nonchalant expression that made him almost impossible to read. His black custom-made suit was decorated with gold threads and a sapphire ring on his finger.
Flora.
Of course, Flora was here - swathed in gold and arrogance. She smiled, but it was the kind of smile that never touched her eyes. It was made of knives.
And then I saw her, someone I prayed to never encounter in this lifetime.
Before the party could officially begin, I changed out of my armor. After freshening up, I put on a ball gown that was prepared beforehand.
I quickly made my appearance together with my father as our arrival was announced, all eyes turned towards us, whispers and murmurs echoed throughout the entire hall.
I excused myself from the hall, as I stood at the edge of the garden terrace, the murmurs of the ballroom behind me grew faint as I focused on the scene unfolding below. The moonlight bathed the estate in silver, the breeze whispering through the lantern-lit vines that draped along the marble railings. It should've been a moment of calm - a rare pause after the chaos of battle and the endless parade of toasts, blessings, and congratulations.
But something was wrong.
My eyes were locked on a pair walking gracefully through the courtyard below: Flora, radiant as ever in her gold-stitched gown, her every movement calculated, her smile sharpened to perfection - and beside her, Lysa.
My breath caught, not out of fear, but confusion.
Lysa. Here.
My breath caught like a snare tightening around my ribs.
“What the hell is this moral-less, gold-digging, deceptive bitch doing here...?”
“I'm not to see her until I enter the Royals, but what is she doing with Flora? Isn't she one of Alpha Jones' mistresses?”
Not in the shadows pulling strings as she had in her previous life, not tucked beside Alpha Jones whispering poisoned suggestions into his ear - but dressed in muted servant silks, trailing three steps behind Flora like an obedient maid. She was silent, hands folded neatly in front of her, face carefully blank.
This didn't happen before.
Not this early.
In my last life, Lysa hadn't revealed herself - not until much later. She had remained a mystery, a faceless threat orchestrating Flora's rise from the background, using her influence over Jones to sabotage, manipulate, and eliminate anyone who threatened their ambitions. Her power had been veiled but undeniable.
But now?
Here she was. Public. Exposed. And serving Flora? It didn't add up.
I leaned slightly over the rail, studying Lysa more closely. Her body was still graceful, almost too graceful for a maid. Her movements lacked the clumsiness or haste typical of someone in service. And her eyes - I caught a glimpse of them beneath lowered lashes - were anything but submissive. They were watching. Calculating. She should at least be in her mid-twenties to be serving a 14-year-old girl.
Lysa wasn't serving Flora. She was embedded. A sick knot twisted in my gut.
“She's not supposed to be here yet,” I subconsciously muttered under my breath, my hands tightening against the cool marble. “Not like this.”
In my previous life, it had taken months, even with highly technical experts and advanced computers, for me to even learn Lysa's name. By then, the damage had been done - alliances poisoned, loyalties shattered, key figures turned into pawns or corpses. And by the time Nicolas became Alpha, Lysa had already slipped away like smoke, only to resurface briefly, unbothered and untouchable.
But now she was walking through a crowd of nobles. As a maid.
“This is a trap,”
Footsteps approached from behind. I didn't need to turn to know who it was.
“You're tense,” Joey said softly, stopping beside me.
“Do you see her?” I asked without looking. “Beside Flora.”
Joey followed my gaze and nodded slowly. “Lysa. I thought she was with Alpha Jones.”
“She was,” I said. “She will be. Or was supposed to be.”
Joey glanced at her. “You're talking like this already happened.”
My lips pressed into a thin line. “In another thread of time... it did.”
Joey didn't question me. Not tonight. I don't know if he believes me or not, but one thing I know is that he trusts me blindly.
“She's dangerous. She doesn't move without purpose. She's the type who plants poison six months before you drink it, and makes sure the antidote looks like betrayal.”
“So what's she doing here, dressed like that?”
I shook her head slowly. “That's what I'm trying to understand. Either she's shifted her strategy early... or someone else is pulling her strings now. Either way, this is all wrong.”
We both watched as Flora turned to say something, her hands fluttering in irritation. Lysa responded with a nod and dipped into a flawless curtsy.
“She's not taking orders. She's studying her prey.”
“Then Flora's either foolish, or she thinks she's in control.”
“Both, probably,” I said dryly. “But that won't matter. If Lysa's here, something's already underway.”
Joey's fingers grazed the edge of his blade hidden beneath his sleeve. “Do we warn your father, if she is such a threat?”
“Not yet. If we move too soon, she'll disappear. She's good at that.” I turned, heading back inside. “We let her believe we're still blind. For now.”
“And Flora?”
I paused. “She might think she has a pet snake on a leash. Let her play with it a little longer. It might bite her first.”
Joey gave a faint, cold smile. “What are you planning?”
“Watching,” I replied. “Learning. And when she makes her move...” my eyes flicked once more to the courtyard, where Lysa had vanished from view behind a row of guests. “We make ours. But this time, I won't be too late.”
“I hope.”
I entered back into the ballroom, but uneasiness clung to me like a second skin. Something was happening. Something new. And the game had already begun.
Chapter 36
No POV
The hall was dimly lit, the crystal chandeliers above casting fractured reflections on the polished marble floor. The scent of rosewater lingered faintly in the air.
He was already there.
Mirage stood in the far corner, half-hidden by a curtain of shadows, his presence unnoticed, just as he intended.
She hadn't seen him.
Viona moved through the room like frost slipping beneath a closed door, untouched by the celebration humming faintly from the gardens outside. The world had shifted since she last walked this hall, but she remained unnervingly the same.
Mirage watched her, every inch of him still as stone. He'd been there during the battle, though she'd never noticed. Always in the places she didn't look. And now, standing here, watching her return, he wasn't sure if she would even remember his face—or care to.
Still, he stepped out of the shadows.
"Viona, or should I add the newly earned title...?"
Her name left his mouth like an exhale—quiet, but laced with something brittle.
She turned slowly, her gaze meeting him with chilling calm. No warmth, no spark of surprise. Just an acknowledgement. She was cold.
"Young Alpha Mirage," she replied simply.
No warmth. No recognition of the months apart. Just a name and silence. A pause, long and sterile.
"You're back," he said, forcing a small nod. "In one piece." A smirk formed on his lips.
"I had no intention of returning in fragments," Viona replied, dryly, puzzled.
He chuckled once, though it came out hollow.
And then it hit him.
A sudden, stabbing sensation spread through his chest—sharp and hot—as though something acidic was crawling through his veins. His spine stiffened, and he drew in a shallow breath.
His hand instinctively gripped the edge of the banquet table beside him. The pain intensified—it wasn't an injury. It wasn't fatigue.
It was something else.
"Excuse me," he murmured tightly, stepping away before she could question him—not that she would.
He turned from her and strode quickly across the floor, his movements increasingly rigid, like a puppet fighting tangled strings. The corridors blurred. The walls closed in. His head throbbed. His heartbeat pounded unevenly in his ears, and the searing pain in his limbs was now an inferno in his veins.
He stumbled into an empty alcove and dropped to one knee, clutching his head. "Breathe," he told himself, voice a hoarse whisper. "Control it. Will it go down."
His vision swam, nerves screaming. The bulging of his veins was visible beneath his skin, dark and swollen as if infected by shadow. His breath came in short, ragged pulls. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and forced himself to stay grounded.
Pain. Heat. Pressure. Focus.
He exhaled slowly, centering on the rhythm of his pulse. It took everything—every ounce of discipline, every fragment of his mental training—but gradually, the intensity dulled. The heat faded. His blood calmed.
For now.
He pushed himself upright, legs shaky beneath him. And then—
Master.
The voice entered his mind like a whisper through silk—soft, steady, unmistakable. Lilah?he mind-linked back, his thoughts unguarded.
Come to the east wing. Now. Quietly.
She cut the connection before he could reply.
Still weakened, Mirage forced himself to move, slipping through the halls like a phantom. He took the servant route, avoiding guests, shadows curling around him as if drawn to the strange rhythm in his blood.
By the time he reached the eastern corridor, the hallway was quiet. Golden candlelight flickered along the high stone walls, casting long shadows across the floor.
Lilah stood at the far end, half-shrouded behind a column near the wine station. She didn't move when he approached—just tilted her head slightly to acknowledge him.
Her eyes flicked toward the open banquet table where drinks were being poured for the next toast. Guests milled about, their voices distant, muffled by velvet and marble.
Then he saw her. A maid.
Standing at the drink station, dressed in servant's garb, her features serene, lips curved into a faint, practiced smile. Her hands moved with expert grace as she arranged the glasses on a silver tray.
But then she reached into the folds of her apron.
And Mirage froze.
She pulled out a small vial, no larger than a fingertip, and with the ease of someone who'd done it dozens of times, she tilted it into a single cup. The liquid shimmered briefly—a faint violet hue—then vanished into the deep red wine.
She capped the vial, tucked it away, and continued her task as if nothing had happened. Mirage's jaw clenched.
Could she be a witch...? No, it's not possible; there are hundreds of wolves here; one would have sniffed her out a long time ago.
"She's using blood magic," Lilah whispered into his mind again. "Or something darker." Mirage inhaled sharply, then nodded once. "Who's the cup for?"
Lilah hesitated. "I don't know. But she's timing it perfectly. Right before the final toast." A sick chill ran through him.
"Get to Viona," he said under his breath. "Make sure she doesn't drink anything."
"What about you?" Lilah whispered back.
"That's not your concern."
He stepped back into the shadows, his movements fluid despite the lingering ache in his limbs. His heartbeat had steadied—for now—but something inside him still churned.
Author: Everyone can already guess whose POV this is, but I just didn't make use of the "I's and My's," rather "He and His." I hope you guys don't mind.
Chapter 37
Nicolas Pov
The ballroom was already glowing when I arrived, earlier than necessary but dressed to perfection I hoped - crisp silver-lined tunic, formal sash across my chest, and my family crest glinting at my collarbone. I adjusted the cuffs of my sleeves absently, pacing the marble floor with practiced calm.
Today mattered. The final day of the Grand Union Party. The day Viona returned. And their first dance as an official couple.
I caught my reflection in one of the tall mirrors and straightened my posture. No second chances tonight. The Alphas were watching. The council would be watching. And more importantly, my pack was watching; I can't mess this up.
Viona entered not long after. Her presence was like a blade - quiet, sharp, and utterly arresting. Her black and silver gown shimmered under the chandelier light, accentuating the strong lines of her frame. She didn't smile. She rarely did it with me. But her eyes sought me across the room and I felt the familiar twist in my chest.
She made her way to me without fanfare, and I bowed slightly, offering my hand. "Shall we, Lady Viona?"
Her gaze was cool, but not unkind. "Let's make it quick."
The music swelled, and we began to move - fluid, synchronized, practiced. The murmurs in the crowd hushed. Eyes turned to us. The first dance was always symbolic - of unity, of power, of future alliances - and the audience hung onto every turn, every step.
But I... faltered.
Not in form, but in focus.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. Flora.
She stood against a marble pillar, draped in emerald silk, her dark curls pinned with small golden roses. Her green eyes were locked on me, burning with something unspoken. Her gaze trailed every movement I made - as if willing me to look at her. And daring me to remember.
And for a moment... I did.
I missed a half beat in the rhythm. Not a full misstep - but enough for Viona to notice. And then her heel came down hard on my foot.
The pain was sharp and I winced.
"If young Alpha Nicolas finds the corner so interesting," Viona said coolly, her voice low enough for only me to hear, "he might as well go to it."
Heat flushed into my neck. Embarrassment crept up my spine like a snake.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, adjusting my posture quickly. "That was... clumsy."
"Hm," was all she said. But her expression remained unreadable as ever.
Glancing around, to my relief no one else noticed my misstep.
We danced on, silent but precise. I'm focused now, trying to drown out the burn of Flora's gaze and the weight of Viona's subtle disappointment.
The music came to a gentle close. Applause followed - polite, appreciative, fleeting.
With a bow and a final nod, we left the floor as others began to filter into conversation clusters. Wine flowed. Platters of spiced meats and candied fruits were brought in. The air warmed with food and laughter.
I mingled half-heartedly, greeting distant uncles and foreign Alphas, trying not to let my eyes drift back toward Flora. But something gnawed at me. A weight in my chest. A guilt I couldn't name, but felt all the same, like it happened before.
Then-
A scream.
The music stopped.
The chatter died.
It came from the back of the hall, near the wine service.
I turned instantly.
A scream shattered the moment.
Commotion erupted near the back of the ballroom - beyond the wine station. Guests rushed to the side, voices rising in alarm.
My heart lurched. I pushed through the gathering crowd.
I reached the center just in time to see her - Flora - collapsed on the floor, her eyes wide and glazed, body trembling faintly. She looked pale, almost gray, and her hands clawed weakly at the tiles.
Beside her lay her nanny - the older woman curled on her side, coughing violently, blood spattering from her mouth onto the stone floor.
Gasps rose around them. One noblewoman fainted. Another began shouting for a healer.
I dropped to my knees beside Flora without thinking. "Flora? Can you hear me?" panic clouding my thoughts.
It was then that I realized.
Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Her lashes fluttered, unfocused. I turned to the nearest guard. "Get a medic. Now."
The nanny was barely conscious. Her breath came in wet, gurgling gasps. I could smell the sour sting of tainted wine - bitter herbs and copper.
Poison.
My chest tightened. This wasn't an accident. This was targeted; I felt it.
Viona pushed through the ring of guests moments later, her face hard, eyes calculating. She looked first at Flora, then at the nanny - and then at me, still on the ground beside them, my hands shaking slightly.
Instead, she looked towards the wine table, towards the servants, towards the cluster of cups – and then towards the shadows near the eastern archway.
Where someone or something had already vanished. She charged towards the archway, disappearing into the corner.
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Table of Contents
×1
Chapter 1
2_3
Chapter 2–3
4_8
Chapter 4_8
9_13
Chapter 9_13
14_18
Chapter 14_18
19_23
Chapter 19_23
24_28
Chapter 24_28
29_33
Chapter 29_33
34_38
Chapter 34_38
39_43
Chapter 39_43
44_48
Chapter 44_48
49_53
Chapter 49_53
54_58
Chapter 54_58
59_63
Chapter 59_63
64_68
Chapter 64_68
69_73
Chapter 69_73
74_78
Chapter 74_78
79_83
Chapter 79_83
84_88
Chapter 84_88
89_93
Chapter 89_93
94_98
Chapter 94_98
99_103
Chapter 99_103
104_108
Chapter 104_108
109_113
Chapter 109_113
114_118
Chapter 114_118
119_123
Chapter 119_123
124_128
Chapter 124_128
129_133
Chapter 129_133
134_138
Chapter 134_138
139_143
Chapter 139_143
144_148
Chapter 144_148
149_153
Chapter 149_153
154_158
Chapter 154_158
159_163
Chapter 159_163
164_168
Chapter 164_168
169_173
Chapter 169_173
174_177
Chapter 174_177