Chapter 73

Elora’s POV

Nobody, and I mean nobody would’ve figured out where that cursed letter was hidden. Not unless you had psychic powers or just a real knack for bad luck.

So get this: I literally tripped over it. Well, okay, not tripped, but my sleeve snagged on a busted edge in Dominic’s old nightstand, and there it was. Jammed in the fake bottom, smothered under ledgers older than sin and scraps of, like, absolute garbage. If I hadn’t been rooting around like some desperate, over-caffeinated raccoon, I would’ve missed the whole thing.

At first, it looked like trash. But then my brain caught up, hold up, that handwriting? Way too careful. Every letter fussed over, all these weird little flourishes, like whoever wrote it was showing off. Made my gut clench up before I’d even read a word.

The words, though, are so boring. Inventory stuff, border nonsense. But something was off. I kept reading it over and over, and it finally clicked, smacked me right in the face.

This wasn’t about supplies or whatever. This was about Dominic. About someone dosing him, slow and steady. Not enough to finish him off, just enough to keep him weak, strung out, totally under control. The whole thing read like a damn business memo. “All going well, boss, here’s your update.” And at the end? Not a name, no, just this little swirl in the ink that I’d seen a thousand times on Mira’s fancy handkerchiefs.

My hands? Shaking like I’d downed six espressos. Nearly tore the thing in half.

Mira. Oh, for, are you kidding me? Her. The whole time.

So I’m just sitting there, stunned, next to Dominic, who looks like a corpse. My heart’s doing backflips. Finally, the proof I’ve been losing sleep over. And yet...

I look at him, all hollow-eyed and barely breathing, and I just, I don’t know, man. Would telling him save him? Or just shatter whatever’s left? Probably both. My throat’s burning. I fold up the letter, tuck it away, and just sit there forever, holding his hand like an idiot.

He twitches a little, mumbles something, maybe my name. I want to shake him awake and spill everything, but I can’t. Not now.

Later, when the whole castle’s gone dead quiet and every step echoes like a ghost’s sigh, I sneak out. Letter in a death grip. My feet just, I dunno, autopilot me to the training grounds. Dante’s always there lately, stalking the walls like a wolf that forgot how to sleep.

I see him by torchlight, all tense and brooding. He whirls around, looks ready to punch a hole in something—then sees it’s just me.

“Elora,” he says, voice all hushed and wary, like the walls might have ears. “You look like you got run over. What’s up?”

No point sugarcoating it. I shove the letter at him. “Read this.”

He starts slow, then speeds up, and you can see it hit him. Confused, then pissed, like, ready-to-break-something pissed.

“Mira.” He spits the name out.

“Yeah.” Saying it hurts like hell.

He looks at me, eyes all thunder and knives. “This’ll get her killed.”

I clench my fists so tight they ache. “I know. But Dominic? He’s barely hanging on. If he finds out now, while he’s still, you know, half-dead...” My voice just gives up. “It’ll destroy him. I can’t do it.”

Dante just breathes, slow and shaky. Fold the letter up, and hand it back. “So… what now?”

“We wait. Just until he’s stronger.”

He groans, drags a hand through his hair. You can feel the frustration radiating off him like heat. “Every day we wait, she’s got free rein. The pack’s falling apart. Council’s losing their minds. If Mira figures out you know...”

“She won’t,” I snap, trying to sound tough, but it comes out a little desperate. “Not yet.”

Then, just silence. Like, you could almost hear the dust settling. Dante just stares, jaw grinding, looking like he wants to punch fate in the face. Finally, a heavy sigh. “You want me to just sit tight. Play dumb, let Mira keep screwing us over.”

I barely get the words out. “I’m asking you to trust me. Please. Just a little more time.”

He holds my gaze. And there’s something in his eyes, something raw, maybe stupid, but a tiny bit hopeful, too.

He finally gave this grudging little nod, like, “Yeah, okay, whatever.” Dragged-out sigh and all that. “But if she pulls any more crap, if she even looks at you sideways, I’m not sitting on my hands anymore.”

“Yeah. I get it,” I mumbled. My voice was a joke, barely there, more exhale than words.

Trying to shove the letter back into my cloak, my fingers felt like they’d turned into spaghetti. My heart? Oh, just tap-dancing in my chest like it wanted to win a medal. Seriously, could it not? The night felt like it was swallowing me whole. Just me, my sweaty palms, and this stupid secret chewing a hole in my stomach. But flickers of hope, too. Like, maybe I wasn’t as totally screwed as I thought.

Finally, Something solid. Not just “hmm, I’ve got a bad feeling” or paranoid guesses. No, this was real. Ugly, ice-cold truth in my hands.

Only catch? Everything just got way messier. Mira wasn’t half-assing it anymore. She’d blown straight past scheming into full-on villain territory. We’re talking blood, not just rumors.

And now I got to sit on that grenade alone. Woohoo. Lucky me. At least until Dominic could handle the blast.

I snuck back to his room right as the sky started pretending it was morning. He was just a lump under the covers, barely in this world, but when I sat down, he moved. Mumbled my name like gravel in a blender.

“Elora…?”

I latched onto his hand before I could overthink it, pressed it to my cheek, totally desperate. “Yeah. It’s me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyelids twitched open, just a crack, but he found me. Gave my fingers a squeeze that shattered me.

“Don’t… leave…”

God, that hurt. Like, actually hurt.

“I won’t,” I said, all choked up, barely managing to get it out. Secrets jammed in my throat, burning.

He dropped off again, breathing jagged, but still here. Still fighting.

So I just sat there, that letter basically scorching a hole through my chest, and made myself a promise.

Mira thought she had snowed. Like poisoning and lies made her untouchable.

She was wrong. I was watching. I could wait. And when she finally tripped up? That’d be the end of her little show. Game over, Mira.