The Mark Revealed

The Mark Revealed
Myra screamed when Christine dug her nails into her scalp and yanked her hair. "Let me go!"
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Christine's voice was sweetened with venom. "You think I'm blind, you little bitch."
Myra struggled to break free but it was no use. Christine was sinking her claws deep. "What are you saying? Let me go!"
"Stop playing innocent" Christine chuckled but even the sound was sharp like her claws. "I know your little game Myra."
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
Christine shook her head and laughed loudly. "Of course you don't. You never do, you're the innocent maid."
Myra's scalp was burning with pain but she couldn't escape the furious claws of the woman behind her.
Her mind raced with a million thoughts even as she battled with pain. What was Christine talking about? What little game?
She voiced her thoughts. "I don't know what rubbish you're spitting out."
Christine's only response was a hard slap that whipped her head to the side. "I'm not spitting rubbish! You are!"
Blood dropped from Myra's lips. She cupped her cheek and looked up at Christine's wild eyes.
"You've been acting innocent," Christine began, circling her like a feral predator. "But you're really just a slt who has been spreading her legs for him."
Myra's body tensed. "I don't know—"
"Arthur," Christine cut in flatly. "Or should I say the Alpha who has forgotten himself in your arms?"
"That's not what's happening—"
Another slap cut her off, sending her to the floor. Her elbow scratched something sharp and began to bleed.
"Tell me what's really happening," Christine's voice was deceptively calm. She titled her head and gave a small smile.
"Tell me what's making Arthur despise me like I'm rotten."
Myra shook her head with wide eyes. "I don't know anything please."
"Stop lying to me!" Christine stormed towards her, pointing a trembling finger. "You bewitched him! You're the reason he hates me!"
Myra crawled back in fear but her back met the wall. "He hates me. I'm the enemy. He doesn't even look at me."
Christine ached a brow before her lips curled up. "Really? Do you think I'm a spineless fool? Or a stupid spineless fool?"
"N-No I-I'm not—"
"Shut up bitch," Christine spat, advancing towards her like the mad she-wolf she was. "Arthur doesn't kiss me anymore. He hasn't touched me or even smiled at me. And it's all because of you."
Myra curled into a ball and wished she could disappear. She bit back a cry and blinked up through moist eyes.
She's mad. She's really mad, was Myra's thought as she studied the crazy gleam in Christine's eyes.
"I'm a slave. I'm a maid. I'm nothing more than trash. There's no way the Alpha would want me," she whispered, attempting to soothe the fire.
But Christine's fury was an inferno that couldn't be quenched. "Stop lying to me! You bewitched him! You must have slipped something into his drink."
"I would never."
"Of course you wouldn't." Christine crouched down before her. "You must have kissed him then crawled into his bed like the slt you are."
"I didn't do anything please," Myra said softly. "He hates me, can't you see that?"
Christine narrowed her eyes and grabbed her hair again. "All I see is a man that hates me after the night of the banquet," she replied coldly.
The pain on her scalp was nothing compared to the fear that grabbed her heart.
Did she know the truth? Did she find out about the mark?
Myra winced but held the scarf consciously. "I don't know why he hates you. I've never slipped anything into his drink or crawled into his bed."
"If you think you can fool me, think again." Christine declared with a bitter twist of her lips. "I know your plan. You want to wrap him around your finger. You want to reclaim your throne by seducing Arthur. You're a smart woman. I underestimated your vile nature."
Myra swallowed hard. "I don't want the Alpha. I hate him."
Christine's smile was sad. "Then why does he reek of your scent?"
Myra's heart sank. So Christine had noticed the leaking scent..... and that was not good.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Christine's smile melted into a bitter smirk. "Of course you don't. You don't know why Arthur smells like you. You don't know why Arthur looks at me like I'm the enemy here. You don't know anything."
"Please let me go."
Christine pursed her lips, her eyes holding a misty look. "I've always stood by his side. Always." She whispered, letting go of her hair.
She rose and took some steps back. "I love him. With all my heart. I've always loved him," she continued, her eyes growing distant. "He never asked me to be his mistress. He never asked me to love him, but I did. I let him touch me, kiss me, hold me.... if it meant I could hold his heart."
Myra stared at the woman with a pang of guilt. She was sure Christine had slipped back into her own memories.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, glancing down at her scraped elbow. She didn't wish to create a rift between them.
Christine's eyes were glossy with tears. "I stood by him when the council accused him of killing Josh—"
That caught Myra's attention.
“—I defended him and chose his side. I have never asked to be Luna. I have never asked for anything. All I've ever done is give him my heart." Her voice turned icy all of a sudden. "And now he's looking at you. The princess. The enemy of our pack."
Myra flinched at the cold note in her tone.
Christine glanced down at her with disdain. "You're the woman who's stealing his attention."
Myra would have laughed if the air wasn't sizzling with tension. Steal his attention? Yeah right. He was struggling not to kill her.
"I want nothing to do with him."
Christine walked forward, closing the distance between them. "You can't deceive me. I am no fool. It's time I end you for good."
Her stomach coiled in fear. She wanted to crawl away but Christine stomped her heel on her wrist.
Pain split her vision into slits. She screamed, trying to pull away but Christine pushed the tip down into her skin.
"He hates me because you're here," Christine murmured, her eyes narrowed. "I'll make sure I'll remind you your place."
Myra closed her eyes, holding back tears. She wanted to fight, to pull away but her body was frozen in pain.
She prayed someone..... anyone would save her from Christine's wrath.
"I'm sorry please," she murmured but that alone couldn't calm the storm raging inside Christine.
"You're sorry?" Christine hissed, sinking her heel harder. "You're saying sorry now? You don't get what it means to be thrown away like you mean nothing."
"I'm sorry," Myra repeated, her voice thick with pain.
Fortunately, Christine stepped away and walked to the corner of the room.
Myra let out a small sigh and cradled her broken wrist. "Thank you."
"Save your thanks princess. You'll need it in your grave."
Myra glanced up, startled, before her features twisted into horror.
Christine stride over, swinging a silver blade that gleamed under the little light that penetrated the darkness.
"What are you doing?" Myra asked, rising quickly.
Christine gave a sugary smile. "Killing you." She swung it in a flash, but Myra dodged it immediately.
"I have nothing to do with him! I swear!" Myra screamed, dodging her random shots.
Christine advanced on her like it was war. "Then why doesn't he love me? Why does he talk to you at night?" She screamed, thrusting the blade in various angles.
Myra's arm narrowly missed the last aim but her arm was sliced through by the blade.
Blood trickled down her forearm as she dropped to her knees. "Stop! Please stop. I'm begging you."
But Christine's sanity had gone over the edge. She walked forward like a possessed creature, swinging the sword by her side. "You'll die today."
Myra clutched her bleeding arm. She had nothing to say so she backed into a corner, hoping foolishly someone would save her.
Christine raised the sword and smirked. "Say your last prayer."
Myra closed her eyes, biting her lips, expecting the brutal slice of death.
It never came.
Just as Christine swung the sword in the direction of her neck, an invisible force sprang up, deflecting the hit.
It came up like a blast, sending Christine across the room, crashing into an old bookshelf.
Dust exploded in the air instantly, cloaking the room in tiny brown particles.
Myra covered her nose with her palm while she coughed.
Her brows furrowed in surprise tangled with confusion. She looked at the door, but it wasn't open.
What just happened? She asked herself, looking around.
Her palms were warm and the mark began to itch. She stared down at her hands.
She hadn't done anything so why did her hands feel like she had touched something hot?
She frowned and looked up again, momentarily forgetting her pain.
As the dust cleared, Christine stood up, dizzy but furious. Her hair was disheveled, her dress was torn but her madness had deepened.
"You little witch!"
"I didn't touch you." Myra explained quickly. "It just happened. I don't know—"
"You'll know when your head rolls off your shoulder." Christine picked up the sword and ran towards her.
Myra scooted away, turning her face just in time to avoid the sharp edge of the blade.
But the sword caught the frayed ends of her scarf and ripped it. It fluttered to the ground slowly.
Christine's gaze fell on her neck and paused. Her body stiffened and the blade fell to the ground as her fingers went limp.
A dark mark stretched across Myra's skin, just above her collarbone.
His powerful aura and sharp, musky scent flooded the room, strong enough to bring her to her knees.
They both froze.
As realisation dawned on her in a horrible light, Christine's face twisted, torn between desperation and denial. She blinked and shifted back as if she'd been burned.
"No." She breathed. "No. No. No."
Myra cupped her neck immediately, trying to hide it but it was too late.
Christine had seen the mark.