THE VILANESS HAS THIRTY MINUTES TO LIVE

Chapter One

Chloe's laptop froze on the sentence that would probably ruin her life.

And then Lyra lifted the poisoned wine to her lips.

"No. No, no, no."

Chloe jabbed at the keyboard. Nothing happened.

Her deadline was in four hours. Her editor had rejected the last three chapters, her landlord had sent another reminder about rent, and the instant noodles beside her laptop had gone cold hours ago.

Now her computer had decided to join the list of things determined to destroy her.

"Please," she whispered, pressing the power button. "I am begging you. Just give me until morning."

The screen flickered.

A notification appeared. Chloe stared at it.

She had been studying the novel for two days because her editor wanted more suspense, stronger romantic tension, and a villain readers would love to hate.

Moonlight Desires had all three.

It also had the most infuriating villainess Chloe had ever encountered.

Sylvie Vane was beautiful, rich, and spectacularly stupid. She had spent months throwing herself at Alpha Prime Valen Vance, a man who had publicly rejected her twice. When he showed interest in Lyra, the heroine, Sylvie's response was to frame Lyra for attempted murder.

With poisoned wine.

It was the beginning of Sylvie's downfall.

By Chapter Fifty, she would be dragged before the entire pack council and sentenced to execution.

Chloe had written a note beside the chapter.

Why would anyone be stupid enough to poison someone at a formal dinner when every cup is inspected?

She rubbed her eyes.

"Because the author needed a villain with the survival instincts of a spoon."

Her stomach twisted. She hadn't eaten a proper meal since yesterday. The room tilted slightly, and she reached for her water bottle.

Empty.

"Fantastic."

She tried to stand.

Her knees buckled.

The last thing Chloe saw was her laptop sliding off the edge of the desk.

Then everything went black.

Something soft brushed Chloe's cheek.

She slapped it away.

The fabric returned, tickling her nose.

"Who put a curtain on my face?"

Her voice sounded strange. Smoother. Higher.

Chloe opened her eyes.

A velvet canopy hung above her.

Gold embroidery decorated the fabric. Crystal chandeliers reflected against a ceiling so high she could have rented out the upper half and paid her rent for six months.

She blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then she sat up so quickly that the room spun.

"No."

The bed was enormous. The sheets were silk. A carved silver mirror stood opposite the bed, and beside it was a wardrobe large enough to contain her entire apartment.

This wasn't her room.

This wasn't even a room she could afford to dream about.

She scrambled toward the mirror.

A young woman stared back.

Long black hair. Pale skin. Full lips. A face so striking it looked professionally edited.

Chloe touched her cheek.

The woman in the mirror did the same.

"No, no, no. Absolutely not."

She grabbed the nearest object, a silver hairbrush, and dropped it when she saw her reflection flinch.

She wasn't dreaming.

She wasn't looking at someone else.

She was inside the body of a woman she knew intimately because she'd spent hours reading about her increasingly creative methods of humiliating herself.

Sylvie Vane.

The villainess of Moonlight Desires.

Chloe gripped the edge of the dressing table.

"Okay. Breathe. This is probably a stress hallucination. People hallucinate under extreme stress. Maybe I'm in a hospital. Maybe—"

A clock chimed.

She looked up.

Half past six.

Her gaze snapped to the date engraved beneath it.

The third night of the Blood Moon Festival.

Chapter Three.

The poisoned wine.

For several seconds, she couldn't hear anything except the pounding of her heart.

"No."

She rushed to the dressing table and began opening drawers. Jewelry. Makeup. Perfume. A collection of letters addressed to Valen Vance.

She recoiled from the letters.

Of course Sylvie had love letters.

Of course she did.

The woman had apparently mistaken repeated rejection for an invitation to become more persistent.

Chloe searched for a clock, found one on the mantel, and nearly stopped breathing.

The formal dinner began at seven.

In thirty minutes, Sylvie was supposed to sneak wolfsbane into Lyra's wine. Valen's guards would discover the poison before Lyra swallowed it. Sylvie would be exposed, humiliated, and placed under surveillance.

That was the official story.

The unofficial story was that the discovery would put her on a path toward execution.

Chloe pressed both hands against her temples.

"Think. Think!"

She knew the plot. She knew the characters. She knew which alliances mattered and which servants were secretly reporting to the pack council.

Most importantly, she knew Valen Vance.

Alpha Prime. Ruthless. Suspicious. Possessive of his authority. A man who could smile while ordering someone dragged from his territory.

He was also the last person she wanted to meet.

Her plan was simple.

Don't poison Lyra.

Don't approach Valen.

Don't behave like Sylvie.

Stay alive long enough to find a way home.

She grabbed the black dress laid across the foot of the bed and threw it aside. Underneath it sat a small velvet box.

Inside was a crystal vial filled with dark liquid.

Chloe stared at it.

Wolfsbane.

Her stomach lurched.

She had expected the poison to be hidden somewhere. She hadn't expected to find it sitting in plain sight, as if Sylvie had prepared a murder kit and forgotten to lock it away.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Lady Sylvie?" a woman's voice called. "The carriage will be ready shortly."

Chloe nearly screamed.

"Give me ten minutes!"

"Of course, my lady."

Footsteps retreated.

Ten minutes.

She snatched the vial and hurried into the adjoining bathroom.

Her hands shook so badly that the stopper slipped twice before she managed to remove it.

The smell was bitter and medicinal.

In the novel, Sylvie had poured the substance into Lyra's wine while pretending to adjust the table decorations. It was supposed to cause a violent reaction, enough to make Lyra collapse before Valen's guests.

Chloe leaned over the sink.

"Sorry, Lyra."

She tipped the vial.

The dark liquid spiraled down the drain.

She turned on the tap and watched until the last trace disappeared.

"There. Murder canceled."

For one glorious second, she felt almost giddy.

She had changed the plot.

She had beaten the first death flag.

All she had to do now was avoid Valen Vance, keep her head down, and stop the original author from finding new ways to torture her.

Then she noticed the tiny glass stopper in her hand.

A faint black residue clung to its inner rim.

She rinsed it.

The residue remained.

"Damn it."

She scrubbed it with soap, then rinsed it again. The dark stain faded but didn't disappear completely.

A heavy knock shook the bathroom door.

"Lady Vane."

The voice was male.

Not her maid.

Chloe went still.

"Yes?"

"Open the door."

Something in his tone made her fingers tighten around the stopper.

"Who are you?"

"Captain Rourke. Alpha Prime Vance has ordered a search of your chambers."

Her blood turned cold.

Already?

In the original chapter, the guards had discovered the poison at the dinner table. They weren't supposed to search Sylvie's room until later.

She had changed one thing, and the plot had immediately started moving without her permission.

"Why?" she called, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Contraband has been reported on the premises."

Reported by whom?

She knew better than to assume the poison was the only thing that mattered. Someone could have seen Sylvie carrying the vial. Someone could have noticed her nervous behavior.

Or Valen could already suspect her.

The door rattled.

"Open it, Lady Vane. We won't ask twice."

Chloe shoved the stopper into her pocket and opened the door.

Three guards stood outside. The man in front wore a dark uniform, a silver insignia, and the expression of someone who had never enjoyed a conversation in his life.

Captain Rourke looked her over.

"Step aside."

"This is my private chamber."

"And I have orders from Alpha Prime."

The title alone made her move.

Rourke entered with his men. One searched the wardrobe. Another examined the dressing table. Chloe remained beside the door, forcing herself not to fidget.

She had to look offended.

Sylvie was arrogant. Sylvie was entitled. Sylvie would never stand around looking like a guilty woman waiting for a sentence.

"Is this how the Alpha treats every noblewoman in his territory?" she demanded. "Or am I receiving special attention?"

Rourke didn't look at her.

"That depends on what we find."

A guard emerged from the bathroom.

"Captain."

He held up a small white cloth.

On it lay a glass vial, its rim stained with black residue.

Chloe's mouth went dry.

She hadn't left the vial there.

She had emptied it, rinsed it, and placed it beside the sink.

Someone had taken it.

Someone had put it back.

Rourke examined the residue, then slowly turned toward her.

"Interesting."

"I don't know what that is," Chloe said.

It was the truth, technically. She didn't know who had planted it.

Rourke slipped the vial into a small evidence pouch.

"Then you won't mind explaining it to Alpha Prime yourself."

The door behind him opened.

Every guard in the room straightened.

Chloe didn't need to turn around to know who had arrived.

She felt the change in the room before anyone spoke.

A low, commanding voice came from the doorway.

"Leave us."

The guards obeyed immediately.

Chloe turned.

Valen Vance stood beneath the doorframe, dressed in black, his silver eyes fixed on the vial in Rourke's hand.

Then his gaze moved to her.

"Lady Sylvie," he said calmly. "Tell me why I shouldn't have you arrested for attempted murder."

Chloe swallowed.

Thirty minutes ago, she had been a struggling novelist trying to save her career.

Now she was trapped in a villainess's body, standing in front of the most dangerous man in the book, with evidence of a murder she had deliberately prevented.

And judging by the look in his eyes, Valen wasn't interested in hearing excuses.

He wanted a confession.