Chapter Nineteen: Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter Nineteen: Smoke and Mirrors
Eva's POV

The hallway was quiet, too quiet.

Something about the silence pressed on my chest like a weight. Every time I turned a corner, I expected whispers to follow me, but they never came. Just echoes. Just silence. But it wasn’t peace. It was loaded, waiting, thick like fog before a storm.

I caught Kiara outside the training room.

“Kiara,” I said, masking my voice in honeyed politeness, “you got a second?”

She turned too quickly, her long braid flipping over her shoulder. Her smile was tight. “Of course. For you, always.”

“Good,” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “I overheard something strange last night. Something about me… not being Luna material?”

Kiara blinked. Then she laughed. “Eva, are you serious? You think I said that?”

“I didn’t say it was you,” I replied smoothly, watching her face. “But you were in the hallway with Myra.”

Her expression shifted—just for a second—before she recovered. “Oh, come on. You’re paranoid. Maybe it was a dream?”

“No dream.” I folded my arms. “Just thought you should know. I’m not as blind as I used to be.”

Kiara’s smile faded. “You should be careful throwing around accusations, Eva. This pack’s full of people who don’t like being watched.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Of course not,” she said, voice like sugar and arsenic. “Just… friendly advice. Watch your step.”

I didn’t flinch, didn’t blink.

“Thanks,” I said. “And you watch yours too.”

She walked off with a little too much sway in her hips, leaving me standing in the corridor with heat rising in my veins.

When I got back to the main hall, I found Trent pacing.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

I leaned on the wall. “You feel it too?”

He turned to me, his eyes tired. “Yeah. Kiara?”

“She’s playing games,” I said. “But she’s too polished. She won’t crack yet.”

He nodded, jaw tight. “I’ve got Kyle looking into some things. Quietly.”

I hesitated. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze swept around the room, then landed back on me. “People we trusted… they might not be loyal anymore.”

“Be more specific.”

“Rachel’s been sending messages.”

I stiffened. “To who?”

“I don’t know yet.” His voice dropped lower. “But I have my suspicions.”

“You think she’s pulling strings inside your pack?”

He didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“I want to help,” I said. “Let me—”

“No,” he interrupted. “Not yet.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Trent, I’m not some porcelain doll.”

“I know.” He rubbed his temples. “But if you get hurt because I underestimated this, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Then don’t underestimate me either.”

His eyes met mine. For a moment, something softer passed between us. But then he stepped back.

“I have to talk to Myra.”

I blinked. “Why her?”

“She’s the only one who might know what Kiara’s hiding. They used to be close.”

Used to be?

He walked off before I could ask.

—

Later that evening, Amelia found me in the kitchen.

“Eva, you okay?”

“Define okay.” I stirred honey into my tea.

“You’re on edge.”

“I’m not the only one.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Do you trust Myra?”

Amelia’s expression tightened. “I used to.”

That answer again. I was starting to hate it.

“I heard her say something last night. Something ugly.”

“What did she say?”

“That I’d never be Luna. Not while she’s breathing.”

Amelia’s mouth parted. “Are you sure?”

“I know what I heard.”

She looked troubled. “She and Kiara have gotten… close again. Ever since Rachel’s last visit.”

“Rachel was here?”

“No. But she sent a package. A letter.”

“What was in it?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But afterward, Myra started acting strange. Snappier. Defensive.”

I poured my tea into a new cup and tossed the old one into the sink. Paranoia? Maybe. But better safe than poisoned.

—

At dinner, the tension was palpable.

Trent sat at the head of the table, stoic and silent, while Kiara chatted like nothing was wrong. Kyle was seated beside Ava, and they exchanged looks every so often—furtive, unreadable.

Myra served the tea.

“Eva,” she said sweetly. “Chamomile. Your favorite.”

I smiled thinly. “Thank you.”

She poured it carefully into my cup from a small, silver kettle. As she leaned in, I noticed something strange.

A faint red sheen at the bottom of the kettle. Thick. Almost glowing.

I froze.

“Where did you get that tea blend?” I asked calmly.

“Oh, I mixed it myself,” Myra said. “Special herbs for relaxation. You’ve been so stressed lately.”

I nodded, lifting the cup to my lips—and then let it tilt just enough to spill on my sleeve.

“Oh shoot,” I said. “Clumsy me.”

Myra’s expression flickered.

“I’ll get you another,” she said, but I held up a hand.

“No. I’ll just take water.”

Across the table, Amelia had gone stiff. She was watching Myra closely, her fingers drumming against the tablecloth.

“Something wrong?” Kiara asked, almost too casually.

“Nothing,” I replied. “Just a little jumpy.”

The conversation resumed, but the air had changed.

When dessert was served, I excused myself. I needed air.

Trent followed me out moments later.

“You didn’t drink it,” he said.

I nodded. “You saw it too?”

“I saw Myra slip something into the kettle.”

“Red liquid.”

He nodded grimly. “Amelia noticed too. She’s analyzing the residue now.”

“You think it’s poison?”

“Maybe. Or a potion. Something magical.”

We walked in silence for a moment.

“I think Rachel’s reaching into your pack from the outside,” I said. “Pulling strings. Whispering into people’s ears.”

“She’s always been good at that,” he muttered. “She makes herself seem like the solution, when she’s really the storm.”

“What do we do?”

“We find out who’s helping her,” he said. “And we cut the roots out before they poison everything.”

—

Back in my room, I stared at the untouched cup of tea Myra had offered.

What if I hadn’t noticed?

What if I’d just… trusted her?

A knock on the door.

I opened it to find Amelia, holding a small glass vial.

“The tea was laced,” she said. “With wolfsbane and something else I haven’t identified yet.”

My stomach turned. “She tried to kill me.”

“I can’t prove it yet,” Amelia said. “But it’s likely.”

“Trent needs to know.”

“He already does,” she said. “He’s trying to figure out what to do without alerting the rest of the pack.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. “She served it so casually. Like it was just… routine.”

“That’s how snakes work, Eva. They don’t hiss until it’s too late.”

I gripped the edge of the sheets. “She’s not working alone.”

“No,” Amelia agreed. “She’s not.”

—

Later that night, I went down to the kitchen for water.

The lights were low. No one was around.

Or so I thought.

I paused at the doorway.

Myra was there—alone—standing over the tea set from earlier. She was holding another small vial. This one shimmered crimson under the moonlight slipping through the window.

She glanced around, then uncorked it carefully and tipped the contents into the fresh teapot.

My blood ran cold.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

She stirred it slowly, her lips moving silently.

A spell?

When she turned, her eyes met mine—

And for the briefest moment, they glowed red.

I ducked back into the shadows before she could say anything. My heart thundered against my ribs like a war drum.

Smoke and mirrors.

That’s what this all was.

But the truth was slipping through now—burning, poisonous, and real.