Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Larisa’s POV
I woke up before dawn, just like I always do.
Killian’s arm was draped over my waist, warm and heavy, his breath soft against my neck. I didn’t want to move yet. Instead, I lay there, staring at the dark ceiling and soaking in the silence. No wind howling outside. No birds singing just yet. Just the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest behind me.
Eventually, I slid his arm off and eased myself out of bed, my feet hitting the cold stone floor without a sound. A quick glance confirmed he was still deep in sleep. Good.
I dressed swiftly—dark training gear that allowed me to move freely, paired with soft-soled boots. I pulled my hair back into a loose braid, skipping the pins. No need to play the dutiful Luna this early in the day.
Stepping outside, the estate grounds were eerily quiet. The guards at the gate barely noticed me, just giving a quick nod as I passed. Honestly, I preferred it that way. No questions. No lingering gazes.
The training yard welcomed me with silence. I began my warm-up, taking my time—rolling my shoulders, loosening my arms, stretching my legs. My belly felt heavier these days, but I moved with purpose. Every little ache and tension reminded me that I was still in control.
I struck the wooden post with sharp jabs: left, right, elbow, pivot. My knuckles stung, but it felt good. It felt real. That dull ache was grounding. I conjured up images of Killian’s face, then my father’s icy glare, and finally, the terrified look Hazel had given me the day she died.
I didn’t stop until I heard a soft whistle from the edge of the trees.
Micah.
Without missing a beat, I shifted to a slower routine as he approached. He handed me a cloth for my hands, the corner hiding a familiar piece of parchment. I took it, folding it into my palm without even glancing down.
“Same meeting point?” I murmured.
He nodded once, then slipped back into the shadows.
I didn’t need to check. The parchment would have the crescent moon and dagger on it again.
After training, I headed back to the estate. Killian was already in the breakfast room, flipping through reports. He looked up when I walked in, his gaze lingering on me a little longer than normal.
“You’ve been waking up early a lot lately,” he remarked, pouring me a cup of tea.
“I like the quiet,” I said, settling into my chair. “It helps me think.”
He reached out, placing his hand over mine. “You should really rest more. For the pups.”
I managed a faint smile; his warmth did little to melt the numbness inside me. “I’ll rest when they do.”
He laughed, as if I’d said something charming.
After breakfast, I fell back into my routine. The guards—Rigg and Bren—shadowed me closely. First stop was the greenhouse, where I knelt beside the lavender and thyme, checking the soil. There, hidden under a clay pot, was a note sealed in wax. I pocketed it without a second thought. Then off to the kitchens, where Talia handed me a tray of biscuits—and beneath one, another coded message on burnt parchment.
I read both notes in the library.
The rogue scouts were on the move again. This time east. Too close to the borders that Killian claimed were “under control.” He was either lying—or clueless. Neither option was comforting.
The rest of the day flew by as I managed the estate’s schedule. I met with the seamstress to approve fabric for a ceremonial robe I had zero intention of wearing. I sat through a council briefing where Killian’s Beta rattled off numbers I pretended to care about. I smiled, nodded, and played the role of the Luna like a well-crafted doll.
By evening, my head was pounding. I retreated to the private wing, sinking into a warm bath that eased my muscles. My hands found their way to my belly, which was now a solid curve against my ribs.
Two heartbeats, they said. Twins.
Did that make things easier? Harder? All I knew was that my time felt shorter than I expected.
Dinner came and went, filled with conversations I barely registered. Killian had become... softer lately. Attentive. Possessive. He no longer questioned my morning outings, but his eyes followed my every move at night. It was as if he sensed something slipping away.
Later, I found myself by the window while he slept. The moon was thin tonight—waning. Almost gone.
I dressed quietly, layered a cloak over my gown, and tucked a dagger into the fold at my thigh.
Micah met me at the south orchard, and we took that hidden trail through the woods, winding our way to the old chapel.
The others were already gathered there.
Eight wolves in total—most of them I trusted. A couple? Not so much. But that was all part of the deal, right? Trust is something you have to earn, especially now.
We huddled around a crate with its lid half-open. Inside were vials—glowroot poison, shadowdust powder, and this rare herb that could take down a fully grown wolf for hours.
I crouched down next to the crate, letting my fingers glide over the contents.
“Distribution starts tomorrow,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Let’s keep the routes clean. No mistakes.”
Then, a low voice from the back broke the tension. “What about the border movement?”
I looked up. “We’ll take care of it. Quietly. No reports to the estate.”
One of them chimed in, “We could use Killian’s soldiers.”
I stood up straight. “No, we won’t.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then, I heard a soft voice to my right.
“You’re sure he doesn’t know?”
“If he did, I’d be dead by now,” I replied, trying to sound confident.
But something twisted in my gut as I said it.
Later that night, when I got back, the estate was way too quiet.
I climbed the stairs slowly—each step felt like thunder echoing in my ears. When I finally reached my bedchamber, I froze.
The door was slightly ajar.
Killian never left his door open. Not ever.
I pushed it open gently.
The bed was empty.
There was just one piece of parchment on my pillow. No seal, no signature.
Only six words scrawled in a tight, familiar hand:
“How long have you known, Larisa?”
My blood ran cold.