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THE PORCELAIN MASK
publish date:
2026-04-14 04:55:14CHAPTER 2
When silence becomes a weapon
POV: Elara
I needed an escape; everything was happening so fast. I walked quickly, half-way running through the hallways.
Closing the door behind me, I pressed my forehead against the cool wood and tried to slow my breath. But it only came faster and shallower.
I felt like I was drowning. My lungs burned.
The doctor called it ‘Human Rejection.’ This may sound poetic, but it’s really a death sentence.
I could feel my body was tearing itself apart, forcing out organs that couldn’t handle the lunar energy here. I was in the werewolf realm.
Roman’s world wasn’t mine to be in.
I stumbled toward the vanity as my legs trembled. My vision, too, was flickering at the edges. I needed the suppressant. Derek, the pack doctor, had slipped in for me, too.
‘If I don’t take it now, the coughing will start’ ....
Roman would smell it immediately, the copper tang of blood.’
My hands trembled as I dug through the jewellery box. Then I felt a cold glass. The vial. I poured it in my mouth, nearly gagging on the bitter taste.
The floorboards in the hall creaked.
Roman.
Quickly, I dropped onto the stool and gripped a gold-handled brush. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I gently ran my fingers through my hair
The door swung open.
He entered the room, like he owned the air. His scent filled the room instantly, sharp and edged with irritation.
“That was a pathetic display, Elara,” he said, his voice deepening.
I observed his reflection in silence.
“I’m done, Roman,” I said, surprised by how steady my voice was.
He looked at me in the mirror, as his eyes narrowed.
“Done with what? The party? Good for you…
You should’ve stayed in bed if you couldn’t handle.”
“I’m done pretending.”
I turned on the stool to face him. “I want a divorce, Roman. I want to take Arlo with me. I want to go back to the human world.”
“The human world?” he smirked, “You’d last a week, Elara. Do you even remember how to pump gas? You’re a Luna. My Luna.”
He stepped closer and reached for my cheek. His fingers were warm and familiar, but I jerked away, as he’d burned me.
His eyes darkened, “Enough drama. You are not going anywhere. You are mine.”
I looked in his eyes, “I’m not your possession, Roman. Arlo deserves a better life than this.
He scoffed. “Arlo.”
“He needs a stronger mother, not a liability. If you want to talk about ‘performance, then be a wife I can take pride in.”
He walked away, dismissing me like I was a servant who’d spoken out of turn.
[Roman’s voice]: I’ll call the lawyers tomorrow. …I should tighten the trust fund. She’ll come around when she needs money for her little ‘projects.’
Poor Roman.
He didn’t know my “design hobbies” were a consulting firm I ran online that had earned me a lot of money.
In a few months, I wouldn’t be his Luna anymore. I would be out of reach.
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