Ana POV
The rain was pouring down, masking my scent and my footsteps.
I knew the West Wing. It was the old Luna's quarters. The most secure part of the estate.
I shouldn't have been able to get there. But the guards were lax. Who worries about a dying, wolf-less cleaner?
I climbed the trellis on the side of the house. My fingernails tore, bleeding onto the white wood, but I didn't feel it.
I reached the balcony on the second floor. The curtains were drawn, but a sliver of golden light escaped.
I peered inside.
It was a bedroom fit for a queen. Silk sheets. Crystal chandeliers. And there, sitting at the vanity, brushing her long blonde hair, was Kinsley.
She looked healthy. vibrant. Alive.
She was humming a tune. The same tune she used to hum when we were children, right before she would pinch me or steal my toys.
I pushed the balcony door. It was unlocked.
I stepped inside, dripping wet, smelling of death and rage.
Kinsley saw me in the mirror. She didn't scream. She didn't look scared.
She smiled.
"Took you long enough," she said, turning around. "I bet Courtland five hundred dollars you'd die before you figured it out."
"You..." I choked out. "You're alive."
"Obviously." She stood up, smoothing her silk robe. "And you look terrible, Ana. Really. The silver mines did wonders for your complexion."
"Why?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why did you do this?"
"Because you were always the special one!" Kinsley snapped, her face twisting into ugly jealousy. "The White Wolf. The healer. Even when Courtland was blind, he liked your quiet presence more than me. I had to get rid of you. And faking my death was the perfect way to make him hate you forever."
She walked closer to me. "And it worked, didn't it? He tortured you. He destroyed you. For me."
I lunged at her.
I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze.
But I was weak. So weak.
Kinsley sidestepped me easily. She stuck out her foot, and I tripped, crashing face-first into the plush carpet.
"Pathetic," she laughed.
The door opened.
"Kinsley, I told you to keep the drapes—"
Courtland walked in. He stopped. He saw me on the floor. He saw Kinsley standing over me.
He didn't look surprised that I was there. He looked annoyed that his secret was out.
"She knows," Kinsley said, pouting. "Can we kill her now, Courtland? Please? She smells."
I looked up at Courtland. "You knew," I whispered. "You knew she was alive this whole time."
"Of course I knew," Courtland said coldly. "I hid her. To protect her from the enemies you attracted."
"You sent me to the mines... for a murder that never happened."
"You tried to kill her!" Courtland argued, his voice rising. "Pushing her? That was real. Just because she survived the fall doesn't mean you aren't guilty."
"I never touched her!" I screamed.
Kinsley giggled. "Details, details."
She walked over to Courtland and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Baby, since she knows, can I have her? I need a new maid. My Omega is too clumsy."
Courtland looked at me. At the blood on the carpet from my chin.
"She is dying, Kinsley. She's useless."
"She can scrub floors. She can be my pet," Kinsley pleaded. "Please? It would be poetic justice. The killer serving the victim."
Courtland sighed. "Fine. But keep her out of sight."
"Oh, I will," Kinsley grinned. She looked at me with pure malice. "There's a closet in the basement. The one where we keep the silverware. That will be her room."
Two guards came in and dragged me away.
They threw me into the closet. It was tiny, windowless, and filled with silver platters and goblets. The air burned my skin instantly.
Hours later, the door opened.
Kinsley stood there holding a dog bowl filled with scraps of meat and gristle.
"Dinner time," she sang. She placed the bowl on the floor. "Eat."
"I am not a dog," I said, huddling in the corner.
"Eat!" She used a Voice of Command. It wasn't Alpha level, but she had a glamour spell that mimicked it.
My body betrayed me. Hunger betrayed me.
I crawled forward. I lowered my head. I ate from the bowl like an animal. Tears mixed with the grease.
"Good girl," Kinsley laughed.
Then, I heard a gasp from the doorway. A small, broken sound.
I froze. I looked up.
Standing in the hallway, holding a mop, was a teenage boy. He was thin, pale, with eyes that looked just like mine.
Aspen.
He was staring at me—his big sister, the former pride of the family—eating garbage from a dog bowl at the feet of the woman I supposedly killed.
"Ana?" he whispered.
My heart shattered into a million pieces.
"Aspen... don't look," I begged, trying to cover my face with my dirty hands. "Don't look at me."
Kinsley smiled, placing a hand on Aspen's shoulder.
"Look closely, boy," she whispered to him. "This is what happens to wolves who disobey me."
