Chapter 11 :THE POISON
The fortress was alive with restless preparation. For the first time in many moons, the royal halls of the Crescent Fang pack were being polished, banners hung high, and braziers lit to welcome the festival of the Hunt - a celebration of strength, unity, and loyalty to the Alpha.
But this year, the air was different. Heavy. Charged.
Amanda stood on the balcony of her chamber, gazing down at the courtyard where servants hurried with baskets of fruit and garlands of evergreen. She pressed her hands against the cold stone, her chest tightening. Everyone seemed to smile, to chatter, yet beneath it all she felt the threads of unease, invisible but strong.
Her wolf shifted restlessly within her. Something is wrong, it whispered.
Amanda nodded faintly. She had felt it too.
Behind her, the door creaked. She turned to find Andrew stepping in, his presence filling the room with a force that made the air tremble. His gaze softened when it found her, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his mood.
"You should be resting," he said, striding toward her.
Amanda forced a smile. "I am well enough. The pack needs their Luna visible. If they see me strong, they will believe all is well."
Andrew studied her for a moment, then cupped her chin, tilting her face up to his. "You are strong," he said simply. Yet even as his thumb traced her cheek, his eyes flickered with shadows.
Amanda searched his face. "What troubles you?"
For a heartbeat, Andrew hesitated. He had never lied to her outright, but he had learned to shield his suspicions.
"Nothing you need to carry," he said finally. "Just... whispers in the dark. I will silence them soon."
Amanda's wolf bristled. She wanted to press further, but Andrew leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Trust me."
And she did. But unease remained.
Elsewhere in the fortress, Angela adjusted her gown before the mirror, lips painted deep crimson, eyes sharp with ambition. She could hear the bustle of the servants outside, the clatter of dishes, the hum of voices preparing for the feast.
She smirked. Let them prepare. Tonight the Alpha will see me as he should - radiant, flawless, his true equal.
Behind her, the door clicked open. Ethan stepped in, his tunic half-fastened, hair still damp from the storm the night before. His expression was a war of guilt and hunger.
Angela's smirk widened. "You look like a man who has not slept."
"I did not," Ethan said flatly, shutting the door. "What we did last night... it was a mistake."
Angela laughed, low and mocking. "A mistake you begged for."
"I begged for her," Ethan snapped, his fists clenching. "Do not twist it."
Angela rose gracefully from her seat, crossing the room with a predator's grace. "And yet you came to me. Again and again." She pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "Do not lie to yourself, Ethan. You crave me. My fire. My poison. Even as you dream of her."
He swallowed hard, his body betraying him even as his voice tried to resist. "You are cruel."
Angela leaned close, lips brushing his ear. "Cruelty keeps men weak. And you are already so very weak."
Ethan groaned, torn between fury and desire. He hated her, and yet his hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer. The heat between them ignited again, reckless and consuming.
And neither noticed the servant passing by the cracked door, her eyes widening at the sight of them entangled, their whispers sharp with betrayal. She stumbled back, heart pounding.
The Alpha must know, she thought. But if Angela discovers I saw...
Fear coiled in her stomach. She hurried down the hall, uncertain whether courage or terror would win.
Andrew, meanwhile, had begun laying his snares.
He had ordered the wine to be brought through three separate storerooms, knowing only a handful of servants would see the path. He had placed a trusted guard at the eastern corridor where he suspected Ethan often disappeared. And quietly, without Amanda's knowledge, he had summoned the healer to study faint traces of foreign herbs found near his mate's chamber door.
The healer's words haunted him still.
"These herbs are not ours, Alpha. They are binding herbs - rare, dangerous. They can weaken the bond between mates if burned or ingested."
Andrew's blood boiled at the thought. Someone was trying to sever him from Amanda. Someone within these walls.
His gaze had lingered on his brother's absence, on Angela's calculating smiles. He did not yet have proof, but the pieces were falling into place.
Tonight, at the festival, masks would fall.
The sun dipped low, painting the sky in crimson streaks. Torches were lit along the courtyard, music swelled, and the festival of the Hunt began.
Amanda walked at Andrew's side, her gown a river of silver that shimmered with each step. The people bowed, their voices rising in cheers, yet Amanda's heart beat too fast. She could feel eyes on her - hungry, hateful eyes.
Angela stood across the courtyard, radiant in scarlet, her smile sharp as glass. For the briefest moment, their gazes locked. Angela's lips curled, and Amanda shivered.
At Andrew's other side, Ethan raised his goblet high, forcing a smile, though his eyes were shadowed. He laughed too loudly, spoke too quickly, as though to drown out the guilt clawing at him.
Andrew watched him with quiet intensity, every movement noted, every word weighed.
And somewhere among the crowd, the servant who had witnessed too much trembled. She clutched her tray of wine, torn between duty and survival. If she spoke, she risked Angela's wrath. If she stayed silent, she betrayed her Alpha.
Her choice would change everything.
Angela slipped away from the crowd midway through the feast, her gown swishing against the polished floor. Ethan followed moments later, tension in every line of his body.
They met in the shadowed alcove of the eastern corridor, hidden from the revelry.
"You should not have followed me," Angela hissed, though her eyes glittered with satisfaction.
"You cannot keep doing this," Ethan said, voice low and harsh. "Someone will see. Someone already has."
Angela laughed softly, pressing a finger to his lips. "Then let them see. Let them whisper. The Alpha cannot mark me, no matter how hard he tries. But you..." She traced his jaw, her nails biting into his skin. "...you burn for me."
Ethan's breath hitched. He wanted to resist, but the pull was too strong. Her lips crashed against his, heat and venom entwined.
And just beyond the corner, unseen by them, Andrew's guard narrowed his eyes, memorizing every detail.
The Trap is swung
The music of the festival swelled in the courtyard, drums echoing, voices raised in song. But in the eastern corridor, silence pressed like a weight.
Andrew's guard remained hidden in the shadows, his keen eyes fixed on Angela and Ethan. He did not hear every word, but he saw enough - the way Angela's fingers clutched Ethan's collar, the way Ethan's lips trembled against hers.
The guard's jaw tightened. He would not act without the Alpha's command, but his duty was clear.
He turned, vanishing into the darkness, his footsteps silent.
Amanda moved among the pack, her smile polite, her words soft, but her thoughts tangled. She had felt the bond with Andrew flicker earlier, faint but real, and now she felt eyes following her wherever she went.
She excused herself from a circle of elders and slipped toward the edge of the courtyard. The torches flickered, casting long shadows.
Her wolf stirred uneasily. You are being watched.
Amanda glanced back, and for an instant she thought she saw the servant - the young woman who had carried wine earlier - standing frozen at the edge of the hall, her face pale, her eyes darting.
But before Amanda could step toward her, the servant vanished into the crowd.
Deep in the alcove, Angela pulled away from Ethan, her lips swollen, her smile triumphant.
"You hate yourself for wanting me," she whispered, brushing her fingers across his jaw. "And yet you cannot stop."
Ethan's hands shook. He wanted to deny it, to shove her away, but the truth burned in his chest. He wanted Amanda - pure, kind, radiant - but with Angela, he drowned in fire.
"It will destroy us," he rasped.
Angela tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "Then let it. If Andrew cannot claim me, I will claim everything else. You. His trust. Even his Luna, if I wish."
Ethan froze, his wolf snarling inside him. "Do not speak her name."
Angela smirked. "Why? Because you dream of her while you are in my bed?"
His fist slammed into the wall beside her head, splintering wood. "Enough."
Angela only laughed, unshaken. "You are mine, Ethan. And when the time is right, we will rip everything from your brother's hands."
The servant had not run far. She hid in the shadows of the western stairwell, her tray abandoned, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
She had seen too much. Heard too much.
Angela and Ethan. Together.
Her mind raced. The Alpha must know. He deserves to know. But fear strangled her. Angela's cruelty was legend. A single word in the wrong ear could cost her life.
Footsteps echoed. She pressed herself against the cold stone wall, praying not to be seen.
But the footsteps stopped.
A voice, smooth and mocking, drifted toward her. "Hiding, little bird?"
Her blood turned to ice. Angela.
The servant bolted, skirts tangling as she fled down the corridor. Behind her, Angela's laughter rang like a blade.
Andrew sat at the head of the long feast table, goblet untouched, eyes scanning the crowd. He had not seen Angela for some time. Nor Ethan. His instincts growled at him, sharp and relentless.
When his guard slipped to his side, bowing low, Andrew leaned in.
"My Alpha," the guard murmured, voice low enough to be swallowed by the music. "I have seen them. Together."
Andrew's hand tightened on the goblet until the metal groaned. His jaw clenched, his heart pounding. At last - proof.
But not yet enough. He needed more.
"Do not speak of this to anyone," Andrew ordered quietly. "Not even my Luna. Follow them. Watch. Bring me every detail."
The guard bowed and disappeared once more.
Amanda's hand brushed Andrew's beneath the table, her fingers seeking his. "You are distant," she whispered.
Andrew forced his expression to soften. He turned his hand, lacing his fingers with hers. "I am here," he said. But in his chest, his wolf seethed.
In the shadow of the fortress wall, the servant ran until her lungs burned. She stumbled into the stable yard, clutching a post for balance.
She could not stay silent. She had to tell the Alpha.
But a figure stepped from the darkness, blocking her path.
Ethan.
His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark with conflict. "You saw," he said flatly.
The servant's knees trembled. She nodded once, unable to lie.
For a moment, Ethan only stared at her. Then he stepped closer, his presence towering, suffocating. "Do you know what will happen if you speak?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "The Alpha deserves the truth."
Ethan's jaw clenched. His wolf growled inside him, torn between loyalty and betrayal. He leaned closer, voice hoarse. "Then pray Angela does not find you first."
Back in the hall, Angela returned at last, her gown smoothed, her smile sharp. She slid into her seat opposite Amanda, lifting her goblet with elegance.
Amanda's stomach knotted. Angela's eyes lingered on her too long, her smile too sweet.
Andrew noticed too. His wolf snarled, demanding retribution, but he forced it down. Not here. Not yet.
The festival must end before the hunt began.
And Andrew had already chosen his prey.
As the moon reached its peak, the festival reached its height. Drums thundered, dancers spun, and the pack howled in unison.
Amanda stood with Andrew on the dais, her hand in his, her smile radiant but strained. She felt the pull of their bond, strong yet flickering, as though poisoned at the edges.
Her eyes drifted to Angela in the crowd. Angela's gaze burned into her, fierce and unyielding.
And then Amanda's gaze caught something else.
The servant. Pale, trembling, standing at the edge of the torches with her eyes wide, as though she were about to scream.
But before Amanda could move, Angela's hand closed around the girl's arm and yanked her back into the shadows.
Amanda's breath caught. She turned to Andrew, but his expression was already hard as stone, his eyes fixed on the disappearing figures.
The bond between Alpha and Luna pulsed, taut as a bowstring.
The festival roared on around them, but the true hunt had begun.