Nisaba knelt before Luna Catherine, her head bowed. The great hall was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows against the stone walls. Despite the warmth from the grand fireplace, a cold dread clung to the air.
Catherine sat rigid on her throne, her nails tapping impatiently against the golden armrests. Rhys stood beside her, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone.
Three days.
Three days since Layla had vanished.
Three days until the Grand Ball, where the strongest of the pack would be presented before the people in celebration of the new era. Layla was supposed to be there—weak, powerless, proof of Catherine's control. Instead, she was missing.
And if Layla returned with even a fraction of her power…
Everything they had built would crumble.
Catherine exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing on the old witch before her. "What should we do, Nisaba?" Her voice was low, laced with unspoken threat. "We need her here, standing before the people. We need them to see how useless she has become, or else suspicion will rise."
Nisaba lifted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with a dangerous certainty. "Then we must seek help… from the enemy of our enemy."
Catherine's brows furrowed. "And who would be desperate enough to aid us?"
Nisaba's lips curled into a wicked smile. "The Hunters."
A heavy silence followed.
Rhys stiffened, his hands clenching at his sides. The Hunters—warriors who lived for the sole purpose of eradicating supernatural beings—were a dangerous gamble. They despised werewolves as much as they feared them.
Catherine let the idea settle before she spoke, choosing her words carefully. "You suggest we trust them?"
"Not trust," Nisaba corrected, rising to her feet. "Use them. Layla is a wolf without a pack. To the Hunters, that makes her an easy target. We spread rumors of a rogue wolf blessed with unnatural gifts, and they will do the work for us."
Catherine considered this, tilting her head. "And when they capture her?"
Nisaba stepped closer, lowering her voice as if revealing a well-kept secret. "That is where my final weapon comes in. The Silver Poison."
Rhys tensed. "That's dangerous," he warned. "If Layla dies by our hands, we will be cursed by the Moon Goddess herself."
Catherine's eyes darkened, her mind racing. The Moon Goddess' wrath was absolute. Any werewolf who spilled the blood of one of her chosen was doomed to suffer.
"Then we will not kill her," Nisaba reassured, her voice smooth as silk. "The Silver Poison will not take her life. It will take her wolf."
Rhys and Catherine exchanged glances.
"You're sure?" Catherine asked.
Nisaba smirked. "Layla has the healing power of a goddess. The poison will attack her wolf, silencing it forever. Any remaining power will be crushed, leaving her no more than an ordinary human." She leaned in, her voice a whisper. "And when she is finally weak… she will die by the Beast King's hand."
Catherine's lips parted, an icy thrill rushing through her. If the Beast King slaughtered Layla himself, the Moon Goddess' curse would never touch them.
It was perfect.
Rhys exhaled slowly. "The Hunters will want payment."
"Let them take whatever rogue wolves they please," Catherine said coldly. "As long as they bring Layla to us."
Nisaba grinned. "Then it is settled."