Chapter 31

Lucy.

The palace hall was quiet when I stepped in the next morning, the scent of polished marble and cold steel lingering faintly in the air. My steps slowed as I looked up—really looked—and my breath caught.

The wall where those stupid photos of my application letter had been plastered just yesterday… was clean. Not a trace. Not even a curl of tape residue or a leftover tack.

They were gone.

I froze for a beat, heart thudding in my chest. The embarrassment I’d been bracing for, the cruel stares, the suppressed laughter—they didn’t come. Just silence, and a few passing glances that, for once, didn’t feel like they were about to slice me open.

Who the hell took them down?

I doubted Ethan would’ve done it. He’d laughed the hardest when those photos first went up, had smirked like a jackal every time he passed me in the hall. That man thrived on making others squirm.

So that left…

I blinked.

Could it have been… the Alpha?

A dull ache pulled at my chest when I thought of him. He was still recovering from the gunshot. Still unconscious, or at least, resting in that sterile medical wing while the entire pack waited for updates in hushed tones.

My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress. If he’d done this—had those photos taken down before the attack—it meant… something. 

I walked the rest of the hall with a tight knot in my stomach, feeling like the ground under me wasn’t quite steady.

By the time I reached my corridor, I was already turning the key in my mind, shifting thoughts around. I didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary.

So when I turned the corner and saw the front of my room, I stopped short.

Bouquets.

Dozens of them.

Arranged in a neat but overwhelming arc in front of my door. Roses, lilies, peonies, violets—petals and colors and scents all jumbled together like a damn florist's fever dream. And surrounding them, a small group of maids lingered, whispering among themselves, not even pretending to hide their curiosity.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“Who the hell did this?”

I stepped closer, brows furrowed. There was no card on the outside, no name tagged to the ribbon on the vases. My heart picked up its pace as I gently parted two arrangements so I could unlock my door.

I got stares. Wide-eyed ones. I could feel the maids practically burning holes into the back of my skull with their speculation. The heat crept up my neck.

My hand trembled just a little as I turned the knob and stepped inside, only to freeze again.

Another bouquet. Sitting on the table, right where the morning light from my window touched it. The flowers were similar—roses with baby’s breath—and tucked into the stems, a small folded note.

I closed the door behind me, shutting out the whispers.

Carefully, I plucked the note from the bouquet and unfolded it. My eyes scanned the neat, minimal handwriting until they hit the final mark.

–D

Derek.

I stared at the letter, the flowers, and felt something strange twist in my gut. Something I wasn’t prepared for. The memory came back fast and bright—sitting on that balcony with him, talking about how chivalry was dead, how men always wore masks. He’d teased me about flowers, said a girl like me probably hated them. I’d shrugged and told him I didn’t mind.

And he’d said, “Is that so?”

Just that. No follow-up. No promises.

I hadn’t realized he was listening.

My fingers grazed the petals. They were fresh. Soft. Perfect.

My cheeks flared with heat and I hated how flustered I suddenly felt. It was just a kind gesture. That’s all. I told myself repeatedly.

Still… my heart wouldn’t stop doing that annoying fluttering thing.

Then, the door slammed open.

I jolted, the flowers slipping from my hand and crashing lightly onto the table.

Ethan stormed in like he owned the air in the room. His eyes locked on mine—cold, smug, a predator who’d just caught the scent of blood.

“I see someone has an admirer,” he said, voice smooth but biting. “I wonder who it could be, except… I already know.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

He took a slow step forward, eyes flicking to the flowers still gathered near the entrance and then back to me. “Soon everyone will know you’re fucking the Alpha’s brother.”

I didn’t even flinch.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the bouquet from the table, turning my back on him. “Goddess, Ethan, don’t be so obsessed.”

Wrong move.

I barely made it two steps before I felt him behind me, then—rough hands grabbed me.

“Let go of me!” I twisted, yanking my arm, but he was stronger.

Way stronger.

His grip locked around my wrist like a vice, and he spun me so fast the room tilted. My back hit the wall hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.

“Ethan!” I shouted, trying to push him off. “What the hell are you doing?!”

His eyes… they weren’t playful anymore. They weren’t even mean. They were wild.

The kind of wild that meant trouble.

“This isn’t funny!” I yelled again, raising my hand to slap him.

He caught my wrist midair.

Held it tight.

Pain shot through my arm. “You’re hurting me!”

He leaned in, breath hot and fast. “Good.”

My heart pounded against my ribcage like a trapped bird. I tried to kick him, to move, but he pinned me with his body and his grip. I could barely breathe.

He looked down at the flowers now crushed beneath our feet and sneered. Then, with one sharp movement, he ripped the bouquet from my hands and threw them across the room. Petals scattered like confetti in a nightmare.

“This,” he hissed, “is me not asking.”

I opened my mouth to scream—

—but he sank his canines into my neck.

The pain hit instantly. Sharp, hot, invasive.

I couldn’t move.

My limbs went numb.

The last thing I saw was Ethan’s eyes—dark, angry, triumphant—as my vision blurred and the world tilted on its side.