CHAPTER 18: THE FIANCÉE'S SMILE
Silver's POV
The silence in my suite was the only thing that felt right. After the chaos of the Great Hall, after watching Caleb snap that girl's neck like a dry twig, I finally had a moment to breathe.
I didn't scream. I didn't throw things. Instead, I walked to my vanity and sat down, slowly removing my diamond earrings. A small, satisfied smile played on my lips as I looked at my reflection. My first day in Blackmoor hadn't been a waste.
I leaned back, closing my eyes and offering a silent prayer to the Goddess that the Thornblood bitch wouldn't see the sunrise. Silver-nitrate was a death sentence for any wolf, even an Alpha. But I hadn't just relied on the nitrate; I'd made sure the maid added a generous dose of wolfsbane to the tray as well. There was no way she would survive the night.
I slept better than I had in weeks.
The next morning, I rose early. I spent the morning moving through Blackmoor like I already wore the Luna's mantle. I greeted the servants by name, offered gracious smiles to the guards, and let the pack see exactly what they would be getting in a leader: stability, elegance, and grace.
I asked casual questions in my softest, most helpful voice. The staff, still rattled by the Alpha's rage, were eager to please. They spoke before they realized how much they were giving away. I learned that Hazel had been found in the forest, bloodied and broken by bounty hunters. I learned she had been kept in Caleb's own bed before her "rejection" earned her a spot in the dungeons.
But the detail that made my blood run cold was Sophie.
Sophie had visited her. Sophie, the heart of the pack. If that Thornblood managed to win Sophie's sympathy, she would have a permanent anchor in Caleb's life. I decided then and there: I had to separate Hazel from any drop of sympathy before she could poison the rest of the family.
By nightfall, however, the news reached me: Hazel was alive. She would survive.
The rage I had kept bottled all day finally erupted. I swept my arm across the vanity, sending crystal bottles and gold brushes crashing to the floor. I stood panting in the middle of the wreckage, my eyes burning.
"Day two," I whispered, forcing my heart to slow down. "Time for another plan."
I sat at my desk and pulled out a sheet of heavy vellum. This wouldn't be for the Royals—not yet. That was too loud, too traceable. Instead, I began to write in a coded script I had learned from my father's dealings with the underworld. This letter was for a contact in the lower court of the Nocturne Dominion. Not the King, Veylan, but someone hungry enough to act on a tip.
> To the Lower Court of Nocturne Dominion,
Old debts are ready to be collected. A Thornblood survivor—the direct lineage—lives and breathes within Blackmoor territory. She is unprotected by the Royals and a threat to the balance you hold dear. If she dies, the Shadowfang Alpha falls. If she lives, she will come for the heads of those who betrayed her kin.
The gates of the high-security wing are weakest at the change of the midnight watch.
A Friend.
I sealed the letter with a plain wax mark from a minor trade house, ensuring my family's name was nowhere near it. I didn't know exactly what the vampires would do—vultures were unpredictable by nature—but I knew they would come. If she died in the night, perfect. If she survived, I would finally see exactly what kind of monster I was dealing with.
The moon was high when I stepped out onto my balcony. Across the training courtyard, I could see Caleb. He was speaking to Daniel, his Gamma, but his body was angled toward the residential wing. His eyes kept drifting toward the window of his room where *she* lay.
I smiled softly, a cold, sharp feeling settling in my chest.
"Every woman has a weakness, Hazel," I whispered into the night air. "I just have to find yours."