39

The evening atmosphere is heavy with suspense as I walk into the palace courtyard. The aroma of rain hangs in the atmosphere, the clouds above thick and ominous, as though the sky itself can feel the tempest forming beneath these structures.

I ought to be relaxing. Getting ready for the battle to come.

Rather, I am present.

Awaiting.

Kyle shows up just as I anticipated—calm, grinning, walking like someone who’s already triumphed.

“You're developing a tendency to creep up on me,” I remark, arms folded as I observe him enter the soft light of the lanterns.

"You're developing a routine of creating issues," he replies coolly. "I thought it would be wise to discuss things before you worsen your situation."

I breathe out quickly, fed up with whatever game he’s engaging in. “If your intention was to intimidate me into abandoning the challenge, you’re just wasting your time.”

Kyle laughs quietly, entertained, yet there's a shadowy undertone to it. Something assessed.

“Oh, I’m not trying to frighten you, Nina.” He moves a step nearer, his voice becoming quieter. "I'm here to tell you that no matter if you succeed, you still fail."

I squint my eyes. "Is that so?"

His grin remains unwavering. “Do you believe the pack will welcome you?” "That they will submit to you as their leader?" He derides. "They are indifferent to your strength." They aren’t concerned about the number of battles you’ve engaged in. “To them, you will forever be an omega who had good fortune.”

The words strike more powerfully than I would like them to.

Because I'm aware there’s reality in them.

The group is observing me, but not with admiration. Not at this time. Some find it entertaining, some anticipate my downfall, and the others—the others still perceive the girl who was never destined to lead.

Kyle notices the glimmer of uncertainty on my face, and his grin widens. “I’m providing you with an escape,” he goes on. “Step back from this, allow Liam to fall, and perhaps—perhaps—I’ll permit you and the triplets to live peacefully.”

I take a deep breath, calming the anger twisting in my gut. "You behave as if you have power over me."

Kyle leans his head, pondering. "Perhaps not." Then, after a brief pause, he says, "However, I possess information that you lack."

A shift occurs in his voice.

And just like that, the atmosphere between us changes.

Since this is not merely another provocation.

This serves as an alert.

I compose my expression, not allowing him to notice just how much he's affected me. "Now express what you intended to say, Kyle." "Or be quiet and step aside."

His grin disappears.

For a fleeting moment, a glimmer appears on his face—something genuine.

Then he leans forward, speaking softly.

"Your banishment wasn't coincidental."

The words send chills down my spine.

I dislike that my breath stops.

Kyle observes it. Senses how the whole discussion has shifted.

Then he takes a step back, his familiar grin reappearing. "Consider that before you settle in too easily with your minor conflict."

With that, he turns and leaves.

Leaving me in the darkness—my heart racing, my thoughts swirling, and the past looming over me like a heavy shadow.

The atmosphere surrounding us is dense, stifling. Kyle's typical smirk has vanished, substituted with a more chilling, more deliberate expression. I remind myself that his words don’t matter to me. That anything he might say won't alter what I already understand.

But then—he inches nearer.

Way too near.

Before I can pull away, his breath brushes against my ear, and he murmurs—

"Your parents were not murdered by rogues." "They were put to death."

The words strike me like a dagger to the heart.

For a brief instant, I hold my breath.

I remain still.

I simply remain still as my universe shifts beneath me.

No. No, that isn't feasible.

I'm aware of what took place. I have come to terms with what took place.

My parents—my dad, my mom—were murdered when bandits struck. That's what I heard. That's what I've thought my whole life.

However, Kyle—Kyle is not dishonest about matters like this.

And the manner in which he states it—performed—

I sense the burden of the reality supporting it.

I retreat, my breathing harsh and uneven. "You’re not telling the truth."

Kyle simply observes me, his expression impossible to decipher.

"Are you certain about that?"

I wish to be.

I must exist.

Yet the uncertainty has already settled in, coiling within me, entwining each memory and every unresolved question I've attempted to dismiss.

I remember how Lisa always gazed at me—as if I were something that ought to have never been.

I reflect on the banishment, how swiftly I was removed.

I consider how Liam never mentioned my family.

Fragments begin to move, reorganizing themselves, creating an image I wish to avoid.

Kyle reclines, tilting his head back, a smirk reappearing. "It looks like you need to do some pondering."

I ought to explode with anger. I must request explanations.

However, I am unable to.

Since I'm already aware. All that I trusted is false.

I'm completely uncertain about what to do now.