Chapter 6 : The Mask She Wears

Seraphina’s POV

The sun was rising, pale gold bleeding through the heavy curtains of the packhouse, painting light across stone and shadow. Yet to Seraphina, the world was colorless and cold.

She sat by the mirror, brushing her dark hair with calm, practiced strokes. Her movements were fluid, elegant—every bit the perfect Luna in the making.

But behind her eyes?

A scream echoed—endless, raw, caged.

The door creaked open.

“Seraphina,” came the familiar voice. Smooth as velvet like poison wrapped in silk.

Kaelion.

Her spine didn’t stiffen. Her hands didn’t falter.

Because the girl who once flinched at his voice had been buried six feet under.

Instead, she turned with soft eyes and a smile that reached nowhere near her soul.

“You’re early.”

He stepped in without hesitation, as if this room still belonged to him—still held the same woman he had once promised the world to, only to leave bleeding beneath it.

Kaelion approached with that casual arrogance he wore like a second skin. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d check on my sweet girl.”

Sweet girl.

The words turned her stomach.

She smiled wider.

“I missed you,” she said quietly, voice trembling ever so slightly—just enough to stir his pride. “Last night you didn’t come back.”

He cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Business. You know how it is.”

A lie.

She knew exactly where he’d been.

With Selene.

The same serpent who had turned her life into rot.

“I understand,” Seraphina murmured, rising to her feet. “You’ve always carried the weight of the pack so well, Kael.”

He blinked. His jaw softened. “You’ve changed.”

“Have I?”

“You’re... quieter. Gentler.”

“Does it bother you?”

He frowned, as if unsure of the answer.

“No,” he said at last. “It makes me want to protect you more.”

Liar.

You didn’t protect me when it mattered.

You watched me die.

But she only leaned into his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his tunic.

“Then do,” she whispered. “Protect me.”

He held her, arms closing around her like iron bars, mistaking her surrender for affection.

In truth, it took everything she had not to flinch.

She could still feel it—his claws piercing her ribs, the betrayal in his eyes when she had begged him to believe her.

The burn of Selene’s laughter.

The scent of blood—her blood—on the marble floor.

She had died in his arms.

And now she lay there again.

Alive. Smiling. Pretending.

When he left, Seraphina slipped into the bath like a ghost, letting the scalding water blister the numbness from her skin.

She scrubbed hard, as if the scent of him could be erased. As if she could scrape away the past.

She stared into the steam-filled mirror.

“You’re not weak anymore,” she whispered to her reflection. “You’re not his.”

Later, dressed in soft blue silk, she joined the others for breakfast.

Selene was already there, perched like a queen, her golden curls cascading over one shoulder, lips painted crimson.

“Darling sister,” Selene purred. “You look so radiant today. Doesn’t she, Kael?”

Kaelion looked up from his plate, nodding. “She always does.”

Seraphina’s smile didn’t falter. “Thank you, Selene. You look... venomous as ever.”

Selene’s smirk twitched.

But Seraphina wasn’t finished. “I had a dream last night. I was falling from a cliff. But just before I hit the rocks, I sprouted wings.”

“Oh?” Selene tilted her head, intrigued.

“Yes. Strange, isn’t it?” Seraphina stirred her tea, letting the spoon clink against the porcelain. “To die in a dream... only to realize it wasn’t death. Just flight.”

Selene’s eyes narrowed. Kaelion said nothing.

But Seraphina only took a sip of tea and smiled sweetly.

Let them wonder. Let them squirm.

She had once been the hunted.

Now?

She was the blade beneath the velvet.

That night, Kaelion pulled her into his lap by the fire. His fingers traced lazy circles on her thigh.

“I missed this,” he said, voice low. “Having you close.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, exhaling softly.

“I missed it too,” she lied.

But her eyes were open.

Wide awake.

She wasn’t here for closeness.

She was here to lull him into complacency.

To learn his weaknesses.

To strike when it mattered most.

“I was thinking,” he murmured. “Maybe we could finally formalize things between us. Make it... official.”

Seraphina stilled.

He was offering her what she had once dreamed of.

And now, the very idea of it made her skin crawl.

“Do you love me, Kael?” she asked.

He looked startled. “Of course.”

“But do you trust me?”

He hesitated. That was answer enough.

“I’m tired,” she said, pulling away. “Let’s talk about it later.”

She left him staring into the flames, confusion painting his expression.

That night, when she finally curled beneath her sheets, the silence was deafening.

And in that silence, she let herself feel.

The grief. The hatred. The deep ache of betrayal.

And the terrifying pull she had begun to feel in the pit of her soul—like something ancient was calling to her.

Searching.

She didn’t know his name yet.

But she could feel him.

The one whose voice now haunted her dreams.

The one whose presence made her blood sing.

Her true mate.

Darian’s POV

Somewhere, in the darkened corners of the world, he was waking. Restless. Furious. Moving.

She closed her eyes, heart racing.

It had begun.

The war.

The unraveling.

The reckoning.