Chapter 24

SARA 

After three days in Silvermoon—three days of a resemblance of freedom, three days of a life vastly different from any I had ever known—I began to realize that I could demand more out of existence. I realized that I must not remain a slave for the rest of my life, and that I did not have to forfeit my future for a crime I never committed.

"What is going on in that small head of yours?" Yvonne’s voice rudely interrupted my thoughts.

"It’s nothing; I’m just thinking of the good old days," I murmured. Ever since we arrived, she had made sure I was constantly by her side, lurking like a shadow. I knew why: she was terrified I would find a way to report her to Alpha Damon.

"It’s just..." I trailed off, unsure how to voice the truth—that staying here in the beauty of Silvermoon was making me ache for the freedom and the dignity I once possessed.

"Just what?" she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "You better not be having any funny ideas." She stood abruptly and marched into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

The luxury of the Silvermoon guest wing felt like a suffocating shroud. I paced the length of the plush, ornate carpet, my eyes darting toward the heavy oak door as a desperate plan began to crystallize in my mind. With Yvonne occupied in the bathing chamber, the sound of splashing water provided the only window of opportunity I might ever get to speak the truth.

I slipped out into the corridor, my bare feet silent against the stone and rug. I didn't know exactly where I was going, only that I had to find Alpha Damon. He was a man of honor; I could see it in the way he carried himself. If I could only speak my true name, if I could only tell him I wasn't a "sick attendant," the walls of this gilded cage might finally crumble. At the very least, he would be able to help me.

I found him in the penthouse, standing by the balcony overlooking the moonlit gardens. The night air was cool, and he looked up as I entered, a flash of surprise flickering across his noble features.

"Child? Why are you out of bed? Ms. Yvonne said—"

"Alpha Damon, please," I whispered, stepping into the pool of light. I reached for the cold silver collar at my throat, the metal feeling like ice against my skin. "I am not who she says I am. My name is—"

"There you are!"

The voice was a whip-crack that shattered the silence. Yvonne stood in the doorway, her hair damp and her eyes burning with a murderous intensity. She moved faster than I could react, her hand clamping onto my shoulder like the talons of a bird of prey.

"I am so sorry, Alpha Damon," Yvonne said, her voice dripping with fake concern. "She’s wandering again. The fever makes her delusional. She starts telling stories, claiming to be goddesses or queens—or even someone she's clearly not."

"She looked like she had something urgent to say," Damon said, his gaze narrowing as he looked between us, his intuition clearly pinging.

"The madness is often urgent to the mad," Yvonne replied with a tight, plastic smile. She practically hauled me backward, her fingers digging into my flesh. "Come, dear. Back to bed before you infect the furniture."

The moment the door to our suite slammed shut, Yvonne spun me around and backhanded me across the face with all her strength. The force of the blow sent me sprawling against the dressing table. I tasted the metallic tang of copper as my lip split, the room spinning in dizzying circles.

"You stupid, ungrateful bitch," she hissed, her voice a low, vibrating snarl of rage. She grabbed a handful of my hair and forced my face toward the mirror. "You want to talk? You want to tell him your name? Look at you. You’re a slave. You’re nothing but a tool."

I looked at my reflection—the bruised cheek, the blood trickling from my mouth. "He’ll see the mark, Yvonne," I stated, my voice thick but steady. "He’ll ask why your sick servant has a fresh handprint on her face."

Yvonne froze. She looked at my cheek, where the red welt was already beginning to darken into a deep purple. She realized, with a flicker of dread, that she had made a terrible mistake. Panic flared in her eyes. She scrambled for her travel kit, pulling out pots of expensive creams and gold-tinted powders.

"Fix it," she commanded, shoving the makeup toward me. "Cover it up. If he asks, you tell him you hit your head on the door while you were 'delusional.' If you say anything else, I won’t just hit you. I’ll make sure Harlan dies in that cell before the sun rises tomorrow."

I sat there, my hands shaking as I applied the cold, sticky paint to my own shame. I painted a mask of health over the reality of my abuse, while Yvonne stood over me, her breathing ragged and thin.

We were almost finished when there was a sharp knock on the door. "What!" Yvonne snapped, startling. She quickly smoothed her dress. "I'm sorry, I'm coming!" She looked at me and saw that I was still desperately blending the makeup. "You stay here and don't breathe a word," she threatened before going to answer the door. She let out a fake, melodic laugh and spoke in hushed tones. Shortly after, she returned with a grim expression. "Get dressed. We've been invited for dinner with the Alpha."

Dinner was a grand, haunting affair—roasted lamb, vintage wines, and the soft, melancholic strains of jazz music. I stood behind Yvonne’s chair, my face a masterpiece of cosmetics and silence. My cheek throbbed with every heartbeat, a hidden rhythm of pain beneath the powder.

Alpha Damon sat at the head of the table, his expression uncharacteristically grim. He didn't even touch his wine.

"I received word from the borderlands this afternoon," Damon said, his voice heavy with the weight of leadership. "It’s grim news, Yvonne. Alpha Tristan has returned to the Twilight Zone, but he is badly injured. The reports say he’s barely hanging on to life. He was struck by some kind of toxin—black-veined and magical."

I felt Yvonne’s body stiffen in the chair in front of me. Her hand trembled visibly as she lowered her fork, the silver clinking against the china.

"And that’s not all," Damon continued, leaning forward. "The entire region is in an uproar. It seems Alpha Rune—the Conqueror himself—is turning the world upside down. He’s searching for a girl. A girl called Sara."

The mention of my name in this quiet, safe room felt like a lightning strike to my soul. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, my heart drumming a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"They say she is the key," Damon mused, oblivious to the fact that the girl in question was standing three feet away. "I don't know why a single girl would matter to a man like Rune, but they say finding her is the only way to stop a total war between the Crescent Moon and the Twilight Zone. If she isn't found soon, Rune will burn everything to the ground just to find her ghost."

Yvonne let out a sharp, forced breath. She looked up at Damon, her face a mask of loyal, manufactured concern. "Alpha Damon, thank you for your incredible hospitality. But if Alpha Tristan is in danger... my place is with him. By his side. I cannot stay here while my pack’s heart is failing."

"You would leave tonight?" Damon asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"At dawn," Yvonne said, her voice gaining a frantic, desperate edge. "We must make the journey back. We have to reach him before the full moon. I've heard the rumors of the toxin... if he isn't treated before the moon peaks, he might be infected with wolfsbane permanently. His fated mate, Claudia, died of a wolfsbane infection. We cannot risk a repeat of that tragedy."

"Then this is a farewell dinner," Alpha Damon said, a touch of sadness in his voice. "If it's not too much, I'd humbly request that you allow your maid to sit at the table and enjoy the meal with us."

Yvonne was silent for a long moment before she gave a stiff nod. "This is indeed a farewell dinner. My maid can eat at the table."

I sat, keeping my mouth shut and my mind racing while Yvonne chatted aimlessly with Alpha Damon, her voice high and strained.

Later that evening, after the servants had cleared the room and the lights were dimmed, Yvonne marched into my chamber. She looked triumphant, her earlier fear replaced by a cold, desperate resolve.

"Did you hear that, Sara?" she mocked, leaning against the bedpost. "The great Conqueror is looking for you. But he won't find you. By the time he reaches Silvermoon, we’ll be long gone. I’ve put you in your place, and tomorrow, you go back to the dark where you belong."

I sat on the edge of the bed, the silk of the guest sheets feeling like a mockery of my status. I looked up at her, and for the first time, I didn't hide the raw contempt in my eyes.

"You can take me back, Yvonne," I said, my voice quiet and lethal. "You can hide me in a dungeon or in the boot of your car. But you heard what Damon said. Rune isn't stopping. He knows my name, and he knows your signature."

"Shut up," she snapped, her face flushing.

"No," I countered, standing up slowly. I stood straight, making the most of my height. Even without my wolf, my defiance felt powerful. "I’m talking back because we aren't in the Twilight Zone anymore. Your stupid rules hold no sway here. You’re terrified. You’re running back to a dying man who doesn't love you, hoping that somehow, having me as a prisoner will make him look at you with something other than pity."

"I am his Right Hand!" she shrieked.

"You are his shadow," I spat back. "And shadows disappear when the light comes. Rune is the light, Yvonne. Was that why you had Harlan locked up? So you'll get to take his place because you knew Alpha Tristan favored him more than he did you?" I accused her coldly.

"Don't even try to pin Harlan's misfortunes on me. Whatever Harlan is passing through, he brought on himself," she defended, though her eyes shifted guiltily.

"It doesn't matter. We both know you are a drifter. Alpha Rune is coming, and when he finds us, he won’t care about your loyalty or your excuses. He will see the makeup I’m wearing to hide your cowardice, and he will tear you apart."

Yvonne stared at me, her mouth hanging open in shock. She looked as if she wanted to strike me again, but the sheer, icy certainty in my voice stopped her hand. She realized, in that moment, that she hadn't broken me at all. She had only made me realize exactly how much I was worth to the world outside.

"Sleep well, Yvonne," I whispered, turning my back on her with total dismissiveness. "It’s a long drive to your funeral."

As much as I didn't like Alpha Rune, there was nothing wrong with him being my savior from the bloodsuckers holding me captive. I would deal with him when the time came, but for now, it was enough to watch the terror of his name break my captor.