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.
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