MAEVE’S POV
My lips parted. I wanted to deny it, to spit venom back in his face, to tell him Ivan didn’t deserve my pity or rcy, but the words wouldn’t co. My heart pounded too loud. My pulse stung at my temples.
Francis leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear.
"So I’ll ask you only once, Maeve, and if you have even a shred of humanity left in you, you’d speak the truth: Who are you working for?"
My heart slamd hard enough I thought he’d hear it. But I t his eyes, widened mine just enough, and whispered coldly: "No one."
Silence. Dead, pin-drop silence.
He searched , his gaze so sharp I thought he’d peel the truth straight off my skin.
Then, softly, almost gently, he asked, "Would it be worth it? All of this. Would it be worth it?"
My throat ached. I curled my lips into a mocking smile to hide it.
"You ask too much questions, and I’m getting bored, Francis. It’s been a long day. Maybe you should redirect that energy into sothing useful. Like polishing Ivan’s boots."
His eyes flashed gold, and I almost expected that he would strangle . But instead, he just stared at with sothing colder than fury. Disgust.
"This isn’t you," he said finally, and I wished I could tell him that Ash Creek made exactly this. "I don’t know what twisted road you’ve wandered onto, but I hope you find your way back. Because if you don’t... I’ll be there the next ti you try sothing. And I won’t be so rciful."
My heart stuttered—a new enemy. And the worst one yet. My hands trembled. My chest burned with a mix of fear, anger, and sothing dangerously close to guilt.
So I laughed. An empty, mocking sound. "Then I guess I’ll have to make sure you don’t catch , won’t I?"
I pivoted on my heel, spine stiff, and walked away before the tightening in my voice betrayed .
But the second I was out of sight, the second I turned into a different hallway, my pace broke into a sprint.
My heart thundered, my eyes stung with hot tears. By the ti I reached my chambers, I was already collapsing to the ground.
I dropped, hard, the book sliding from my hand and thudding against the floorboards.
My palms hit the rug as if bracing against an earthquake, but nothing could stop the violent quake inside . It tore through my ribs, squeezed my chest until I could barely breathe.
The sobs ca out loudly, painfully—violent and unstoppable.
Not the quiet kind you can press into a pillow and pretend away, but the ugly, overwhelming kind that leaves your face mascara-wet and your throat bruised.
My body shook. My heart felt like it was tearing itself in two.
Francis’s voice replayed, over and over: This isn’t you. The disgust in his eyes. The certainty in his words.
And wasn’t he right?
What was I anymore?
I curled on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, clawing at my hair as if I could tear the ache out by its roots. My lungs burned. My chest was too tight.
What’s worth it, Maeve?
His question haunted . What was worth it?
Devon’s leverage? Ash Creek’s downfall? Or the son I swore to protect?
I thought of Ivan, avoiding in the halls, cold eyes that refused to et mine.
I told myself I didn’t care. Told myself his distance was a blessing.
But then Francis said it—said Ivan had been fighting for , worried sick over Asha. Protecting us still. Even under fire.
And Nina. Sweet, smiling Nina. She hadn’t told she lied.
She hadn’t told she twisted my words into poison, standing in front of the Council with her hand on the Goddess’s stone, making Ivan out to be a monster.
That wasn’t the plan! Not exactly, at least.
But regardless... wasn’t that what we wanted? To destabilize him? To push him off balance so I could move freely? So Devon could win?
So why did my chest ache like this?
Why did it feel like I was the one unraveling instead?
A sound interrupted my sobbing—the soft creak of my door opening.
I scrambled upright, wiping at my face with the back of my sleeve, trying to erase the evidence. But Nina was already inside, her soft steps pulling my attention to her.
"Maeve..." she began cautiously, eyeing with a asured worry. "Are you... crying?"
Before I could think better of it, I stord at her. Rage cut through the exhaustion like fire through oil. I grabbed her arms, shoved her back toward the wall.
"Why did you lie?" I snarled, tears still streaking hot down my cheeks. "Why didn’t you tell ? Why didn’t you stick to the script, Nina!"
She blinked, startled, but maintained her composure despite how hard my nails dug into her skin.
"Maeve, you need to calm down—"
"I cannot be calm!" My scream shook the walls of the room. "Everything is falling apart! This was a mistake—"
"No." Nina’s voice sharpened, but she stayed infuriatingly composed. "Everything is working perfectly. Haven’t you heard? Ivan just declared Asha as heir. He claid him as his son publicly!"
My hands froze. My grip slackened.
"W-What?"
Her smile spread slowly, filled with satisfaction.
"During the pack’s summoning, he punished every last wolf who mistreated Asha or you. Brutally, Maeve. He made a spectacle of it. Even when he plays house with Serena, he is head over heels for you. Can’t you see? We have him right in the palm of our hands."
My heart twisted, an unbearable ache almost ripping apart. The floor seed to tilt beneath .
"W-Where’s Asha?" My head whirled then—only just noticing that my little prince hadn’t co running to . "Where is my son?"
"He’s with Ivan," Nina said breezily. "Spending the whole day with him."
The air punched out of my chest. My vision blurred red, and it took everything not to dive and shove her furiously against the wall.
"Fuck you, Nina." I was already moving toward the door, rage boiling, but Nina darted forward, grabbing my wrist.
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