🦋ALTHEA
The room was painted red.
There was not a single surface spared from the carnage.
Blood streaked the walls in violent arcs, as though someone had swung a blade through the air and let it spray. The floor was slick with it, pooling in the grooves between the stones. The bedding—once white, pristine, fit for a Luna—was soaked through, dark and heavy with the stench of copper and death.
And in the center of it all, on the bed, lay Circe.
The Deltas swarmed around her like vultures over a carcass, their hands glowing faintly as they worked to knit her torn flesh back together. Her skin was ice-pale, bloodless, her lips chapped and cracked like she was one breath away from slipping into the void.
But she was breathing.
Barely.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged gasps, each one sounding like it might be her last.
I couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
My mother's hand clamped down on the back of my neck, her claws pricking my skin as she forced me forward, closer to the bed, closer to the horror I couldn't look away from.
"Look at her," she hissed in my ear, her voice venomous and cold. "Look at what you did."
"I didn't—" The words caught in my throat, choking me.
Circe's stomach.
Oh gods, her stomach.
It was slashed open, a gaping wound that the Deltas were desperately trying to close. Blood still seeped from the edges, thick and dark, and I could see—
No.
No, no, no.
I turned away, stumbling, bile rising hot and fast in my throat.
I vomited.
Hard.
My knees hit the floor as I heaved, my body convulsing as everything I'd eaten—what little there was—came back up in a violent rush. The taste of acid burned my mouth, my throat, but I couldn't stop. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe past the horror clawing its way up my chest.
"Pathetic," my mother spat, releasing me. I collapsed fully, my hands braced against the cold, blood-slick floor.
Someone grabbed my arm, hauling me upright.
I blinked through the tears, through the haze, and saw Yana.
She stood in front of me, flanked by two gammas, her face carefully blank. But her eyes—her pale green eyes—were wide with something I couldn't name. Fear. Guilt. Regret.
"Tell them," one of the gammas ordered, his voice flat and unforgiving.
Yana swallowed, her throat working. She wouldn't meet my gaze.
"I went to Mistress Althea's room this morning," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "She was not there."
My stomach dropped, my eyes went to her arm. It had been twisted. Backwards.
Her shoulder jutted out painfully in an unnatural angle.
What had they done to her?!
"When I returned later, I found her asleep in her bed. Still wearing her cloak." She paused, her hands twisting together. "It was... dirty. Stained."
"And?" my mother pressed, stepping closer.
Yana's voice cracked. "I caught her scent. Outside the Luna's quarters. During the night."
The world tilted.
No.
"That's not—" I choked out, shaking my head frantically. "I wasn't—"
"Liar," my mother snarled.
"I went for a walk!" The words burst out of me, desperate and frantic. "I couldn't sleep, I needed air, I just—"
My mother laughed.
It was a sharp, cruel sound, like glass shattering.
"A walk," she repeated, her voice dripping with mockery. She stepped closer, towering over me, her eyes blazing with contempt. "You expect us to believe that you—a weak, wolfless cunt—went out for a walk? In the middle of the night? During a curfew that was set because of the Silvermoth's attack?"
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
"And you just happened to come back covered in dirt and blood?" She grabbed my cloak, yanking it forward so hard I stumbled. "This blood, Althea. Whose is it?"
"I don't know—I fell—"
"You fell," she repeated flatly. "Into what? A pool of your sister's blood?"
"No!" My voice cracked. "I didn't—I wasn't here—"
"Then where were you?" she roared, her face inches from mine.
Silence.
I couldn't answer.
I couldn't tell them the truth.
Not without condemning myself in a different way.
Not without revealing what I really was.
"Exactly," she breathed, her smile sharp and vicious. "You have no answer. Because you were here. In this room. With her."
She shoved me backward, and I hit the wall hard, my head cracking against the stone.
"You've always been jealous of her," she continued, circling me like a predator. "Always bitter. Always watching from the shadows, hating her for everything she had. The Alpha. The title. The respect."
"That's not true—"
"And when you found out she was pregnant?" Her voice dropped to something deadly. "You couldn't stand it, could you? That she would give Draven an heir. A legitimate child. While you—" She sneered. "—would only ever be a breeding whore."
Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
"So you came here," she said softly, her voice almost gentle. "In the dead of night. And you drove a blade into her belly."
"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I would never—"
"You murdered her child," she hissed. "You tried to murder her. And you left her here to bleed out like an animal."
"I didn't!" My voice broke on a sob. "I swear, I didn't—"
"LIAR!"
She struck me.
Her clawed hand connected with my face, and pain exploded across my cheek. I tasted blood, my skin split into gashes. White hot searing pain speared me and I could not even cradle my cheek for any reprieve.
I fell to my knees, my vision swimming.
"You will pay for this," she said coldly, looming over me. "You will pay for every drop of blood you spilled. Every breath you stole from her."
I looked up at her, trembling, broken.
And saw no mercy in her eyes.
Only hatred.
"Take her to the cells," she ordered the gammas. "And send word to Draven. Tell him his whore tried to murder his Luna."
They hauled me to my feet, their grips bruising.
"Mother, please—" I choked out, desperate. "I'm pregnant—"
She laughed again, that same cruel, hollow sound.
"Then you'd better hope your bastard survives what's coming."
And as they dragged me away, I saw Yana standing there, silent and still, her face streaked with tears.
But she said nothing.
She did nothing.
And I realized, with a cold, sinking certainty, that I was completely alone.