“This,” I said, pointing to the exposed part. “The hunters mentioned him while tracking me. They plan to capture him… or you… or both of you. Because of what Versales does to women in human lands.”
“And their headquarters?” he barked.
“I’ll help you find it. But first… take me in, my Lord.”
Finally, I uncovered the rest of the photograph, revealing its entirety.
His reaction was immediate. He froze, his eyes widening in disbelief.
“And one more thing,” I teased. “They’re after her too. Do you know her?”
I watched him growl in fury.
“Karylle!” he snarled. “My traitor wife is alive!”
A cruel smile spread across my lips. He had no idea he was sitting beside that very traitor he's calling.
“Finally… I’m inside the house I should be living in,” I whispered.
Daniel accepted my offer. He brought me to the mansion where he and my brother were staying. The house was huge—too vast, it’s almost funny that Karina hasn’t even toured the whole place, considering she barely leaves her quarters.
She’s seriously ill. She can’t handle the rituals because she’s not full-blooded. She’s just an adopted child, taken in out of pity by my parents.
I’ll never forget what she did. She was the one who tipped off the rival pack about my parents' journey—just because they wouldn’t favor her wish to divide the family’s wealth.
Karina’s greedy. What she’s suffering now is her punishment. But it’s not enough for me. I want more. I want to make her feel it.
“We’re leaving after this,” Daniel said, as we ate together on my fourth week here, just after his return from the war.
I noticed Karina, barely able to walk, supported by a servant and a young man.
The adopted son, the supposed heir to all the wealth and power. He’s wrong. I’ll put you back in your rightful place.
“Yes, my Lord,” I replied, not missing the sarcasm.
Karina was approaching, her eyes fixed on me, and so was her son.
“W-who is she?” she asked as she reached Daniel.
“Why are you even here?” he snapped. “You’re sick. Stay inside and stop stressing me out!”
“But you’ve been gone for so long. I want to know how you’re doing, and w-who is she?” Her curiosity was too obvious.
She stared, expecting an introduction, but I savored the hatred and jealousy in her eyes—despite her son’s glare.
Why wouldn’t she? I wore tight clothes, perfect curls, and sharp makeup. She wore a long white gown, the kind old women favor.
“She’s my—”