If soone had told Lethia the sun now rose from the west, she might’ve just believed it—no questions asked.
Too many strange things had happened over the past month, things so surreal she’d started questioning if any of it was real. But this? This particular truth struck her like a punch to the gut.
"You must be kidding ," Lethia said, blinking rapidly, her mouth slightly agape.
"I wish it were a joke too, Luna. Do you rember the day we t at the hospital?"
"When Lana got discharged with a broken leg?" Of course she rembered. That very historical day, when she discovered she’d been possessed.
Terressa nodded. "That sa day, they found out about the pregnancy. And like usual, they ran the genetic test. Ever since then, there’s been no peace in the main house."
Lethia frowned, then scoffed in disgust, the realization slapping her hard; while she was at her lowest, grieving her father and going through the early stages of her pregnancy, Varrel and Lana were busy screwing around, since he thought that baby was his.
"Is that what made Lana lose her mind?"
Terressa shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "It’s not that simple. Lana’s been on anxiety dication ever since her family went bankrupt three years ago. She had to stop after getting pregnant, and... well, Alpha Varrel’s treatnt toward her just made it worse. She has gone mad and couldn’t handle the rejection. She kept insisting the pup was his."
Lethia let out a bitter chuckle. "So what, you’re saying she was cheating? After all that effort pretending to be noble, letting her fated mate marry just so she could ruin ? And now I’m supposed to believe she caused her own downfall?"
Terressa shrugged her shoulders and crossed her legs. "Alpha Varrel found proof that Lana had been intimate with other n several tis, so..."
The livelier tone in Terressa’s voice made Lethia realize she was no longer in pain. Could the effects of the branding vanish that quickly? Lethia rose from the sofa and walked to the window facing the front yard.
"Then Varrel could’ve easily tossed Lana aside if he wanted to. So why didn’t he? Does Lana have sothing on him?" she probed.
"Ah... that reminds of sothing..." Terressa stood as well, disappearing behind the door to her bedroom.
Lethia exhaled in quiet relief, glad to see Terressa moving around again. Still, she couldn’t shake the disbelief. How could the pain from a branding wear off so soon? Was it really because she was only branded once instead of twice, so the pain was lighter?
Branding with silver fire was no different than enslaving soone.
A pang of guilt struck Lethia, knowing the reinstatent of that cruel practice had stemd from her rebellion.
But then she narrowed her eyes, as sothing tugged at her mory. The silver fire was a black magic. It could only be perford by a witch.
However, as far as she recalled, she hadn’t seen anyone dressed like a witch at the scene earlier. Or... had soone slipped past her notice?
As her eyes scanned the living room, a small wooden table in the corner, near the coat hanger, caught her attention.
A pile of books rested there, with a few photographs tucked between the pages. She frowned.
Slowly, she stepped closer to the table. One photo edge that peeked out from between the books showed a woman with long, maroon hair.
At a glance, anyone might’ve assud it was a photo of Lethia from behind.
Had she ever taken a picture like that?
Just as her hand was about to reach for the book, Terressa’s hand gripped it first, deliberately pushing the photo back between the pages before taking the book into her arms.
"Speaking of fishy," Terressa said, shoving a folder against Lethia’s chest, "I found this in Lana’s room."
She then turned around and slid the book into a locked shelf.
Lethia’s gaze flicked between the folder and Terressa’s oddly guarded behaviour.
"What is this?" she asked, pulling out a few sheets from inside the folder
"I overheard Lana and Alpha Varrel arguing about that file. And... I also heard about your stabbing incident on Holae Street. So, I thought maybe this could lead to whoever did it."
Lethia’s eyes widened at her words. She walked back toward the window and scanned the contents. Leaning against the window fra, she read through the docunts.
"Virethrax Organization?" Her brow lifted. "There’s no na, but..." Her eyes landed on a photo of a tall man in a black hoodie. The sight stirred sothing in her mory—The night she got stabbed.
That sa hoodie. The man with a smug little smirk who bumped into her.
She had found it strange even then, right before the pain from the stab blood through her body.
"Do you recall sothing, Luna?"
Lethia let out a breathless smile, nodding. "Terressa, this is valuable. I can hand this over and have them trace it." Her voice brimd with excitent, already thinking about how this could help Zeran’s investigation.
"I’m glad if it could be of any help."
"It does. I don’t know how I can ever repay your loyalty to ..." Lethia kept her posture facing the window, her eyes scanning through the papers carefully, even if she didn’t fully grasp every piece of information.
Terressa chuckled softly. "That’s what friends are for, my Luna... Lethia... I just want you to be happy."
Lethia froze.
She was uncomfortable with her calling her Luna, but it was still better than hearing her say her na. She shouldn’t be calling her that. She should be calling her Lethee.
Her eyes lifted to the old swing hanging from the oak tree outside, creaking gently in the wind. That’s when she spotted Caelum and three of the bodyguards rushing toward the front door, their pace alarmingly fast.
Her gut twisted. It was never wrong. She tightened her grip on the papers in her hands, pulse spiking.
"Terre, why haven’t you taken down that swing yet? It’s too old already."
"Hm? Ah... yeah... I’ll take it down later."
Fuck.
Wrong answer.
Just as Lethia turned to face Terressa, Caelum’s voice tore through the room—"Queen!"—before he bolted toward her in a flash and threw his arms around her from behind, locking her in place.
Then ca the scream.
A raw, feral shriek of pain from Terressa. Unhinged.
Lethia struggled, forcing herself free from Caelum’s grip, only to face him, gasping, breath ragged—
"Caelum, what hap—"
He collapsed into her arms.
And horror struck her harder than anything.
Her hands were soaked with blood.
Flowing from his back, where a silver dagger had been thrust deep.
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