My blood turned to ice.
I crept to the edge of the storage room.
He was leaned against the wall, back rising and falling with heavy breaths. His hand still clutched his temple, and when she touched his arm, he flinched.
"What's wrong, love?" she asked, concern dripping off her tongue like syrup.
He didn't answer.
Selene took a slow step closer, brushing her fingers along his jaw. "Is she getting to you again?"
My heart clenched.
He didn't say a word.
"You know what we talked about," Selene whispered, her voice darker now. "She's the problem. You know she is. She's distracting you from what really matters."
His shoulders tensed.
"I'm the one who's carrying your child," she added, pressing his hand to her stomach.
I looked away, biting down a sob before it could escape.
That's when I heard it—barely above a whisper. Damien's voice, hoarse and shaking.
"Just… give me a moment, Selene."
And then he stormed off again, his steps echoing far down the hall.
Selene stood alone now, turning just slightly, her head angling—
Like she knew I was watching.
She smiled.
Not at Damien.
Not at no one.
At me. She knew I was here all along.
And then she walked away.
–––⸻✧⸻–––
Something is wrong.
I rested my elbows against the balcony rail, eyes scanning the courtyard below.
The pack was bustling with excitement. Colorful banners flapped in the breeze.
My eyes found Damien very easily. Standing by the western archway, tall and rigid in posture, beside her.
Selene was laughing—flipping her hair, pressing a hand to her chest as a pack member shared something clearly amusing.
But Damien…
He didn't even pretend to smile. His face was carved from stone. Eyes dull. Mouth unmoving. There was no trace of life in him.
Like his soul had gone silent.
It was like…
She was puppeteering him.
Emotions don't just disappear. And Damien—he may be cruel, he may be conflicted—but he was never… lifeless.
I stepped back, unable to look any longer.
My breath trembled as I turned from the sight and rushed through the corridor. Only one person came to mind.
–––⸻✧⸻–––
His study door was slightly ajar when I reached it. I knocked anyway, heart racing, and then pushed through.
Rowan looked up from behind his desk, glasses sliding slightly down his nose.
"Eva?" he blinked. "You alright?"
"No," I said, too quickly.
He stood up, concern flickering across his expression. "What's wrong?"
"I think something is… off with Damien." I walked toward the desk, arms crossed over my chest. "I mean, more than usual. It's like he's being drained from the inside out. He doesn't speak unless needed. He doesn't even see anyone. But Selene's always next to him, always smiling, always glowing. And him? He's like a walking shadow."
Rowan's brows pulled together, tension building in his jaw. "Okay go on."
"He didn't even blink. Rowan, this isn't just emotional detachment. It's like…" I swallowed, hard. "It's like he's not even himself."
He walked around the desk slowly, eyes locked on mine. "And you're sure this didn't start after…?"
I nodded before he could finish. "I know what it looks like. And I know it's easy to assume it's just me being emotional. But this—this is different."
Rowan studied me for a long moment. Then he said quietly, "I've been noticing it too."
My heart skipped. "What?"
"I thought it was just stress," he admitted. "But Damien… he doesn't even respond to our conversations anymore. Not like before. He used to question everything. Now he just nods. Or walks away." Rowan glanced at the window. "Like something's eating him from the inside."
"Or someone," I whispered.
His gaze returned to me sharply.
Then Rowan sighed. "Alright. We look into this. But not recklessly. We'll need to be quiet. Careful. And Eva?" He placed a hand gently on my arm. "Don't confront her. Not yet."
My throat tightened.
But if she was behind this…
We were playing a game much more dangerous than I thought.
–––⸻✧⸻–––
I shouldn't be here.
Every step I took down the long corridor of the Alpha wing felt like a dare to fate.
I didn't know what I was searching for—only that something inside me insisted this was where I'd find it.
Damien wasn't himself. Not just cold or detached. But… different. Like he was being pulled by invisible threads.
And I had to know who was holding them.
I pushed open the ornate door to the shared quarters—his and Selene's. The room was painfully perfect, like the pages of a magazine. Her scent was everywhere— it made my stomach twist.
I moved quickly but carefully. Opened drawers. Peeked into side tables. Touched nothing more than necessary.
Then I saw it.
Tucked behind a row of pristine perfume bottles on her vanity was a tiny glass vial. Purple liquid swirled inside, thick and iridescent. Almost alive.
The moment I picked it up, something inside me flinched. Like it recognized danger. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it didn't belong. Not here. Not with him.
I slipped it into my cardigan pocket just as I heard footsteps outside the door.
My breath caught.
Panicked, I scanned the room. The only place to hide—thick curtains hanging by the window. I slipped behind them just as the door opened.
"I told you to clean the table, not the bookshelves," Selene's amused voice drifted in.
"Yes, Lady Selene. I'm sorry," the new attendant replied quickly, her tone meek.
I dared a breath, peeking between the shadows of the stacked trunks in the corner. Selene tossed her robe onto a chaise with an airy sigh, like she owned this place—like she'd always belonged here.
"So," she began, voice tinged with smug delight, "everything is going smoothly, don't you think?"
The attendant didn't answer. Selene didn't seem to care. She walked to the vanity and ran her fingers along the edge.
"The Elders adore me. The pack members hang onto every word I say. And Damien…" She paused to smile at herself in the mirror. "He barely blinks when I touch him now."
I bit the inside of my cheek, every muscle tight. My nails dug harder around the bottle.
"But Lady Selene," the attendant spoke softly, "is the Alpha… happy?"
Selene's laughter was a cold chime. "Happiness is overrated, darling. He doesn't need to be happy. He needs to obey. And that's exactly what he's doing."
My chest rose and fell with quiet, sharp breaths. Obey?
She twirled a gold ring on her finger, eyes glinting. "He used to resist me. Oh, he was such a headache. So stubborn. But then, I found a better way."
She turned toward her attendant, a wicked smile spreading across her face.
"Potions are an art form, really. Not everyone appreciates their precision. But this one—" she held up a bottle that looked nearly identical to the one I held, "—this one softens the will, mutes the bond with… inconveniences."
My breath caught.
"He still feels the pull, of course," Selene said almost wistfully. "But now, it's a whisper. A faint ache. Nothing he can't ignore."
Her voice dropped lower. "He thinks the confusion he feels is his. He blames himself for hating her. He doesn't even know I'm the reason he wakes up angry every morning."
The attendant remained silent. I could hear my pulse louder than the conversation now.
Selene's next words came out almost like a sigh.
"She has no idea I've already broken him."
A loud knock startled all of us. Selene straightened. "Come in!" she called.
Another servant poked their head in. "Lady Selene, the Former Luna wishes to see you."
"Tell her I'll be there shortly."
The door closed again. Selene turned back to her mirror, running a hand over her hair.
"Soon," she whispered to herself. "Soon he won't even remember that bitch's name."
The moment they both exited the room, I forced myself to breathe. I stepped out from behind the cabinet, still shaking, still clutching the bottle.
My heart thundered against my ribs.
I stared at the door Selene had just walked through, voice low and trembling as I whispered the truth out loud to no one but myself:
"I was right all this time. She's possessed him."