Chapter 3: The Night of Betrayal

(Daciana POV)

The warning note trembled in my hands while the alarm bells screamed across Blackfang like wounded beasts calling for death.

I read the message again, hoping the words would change, but the ink still promised that Ashina’s second lie would bury me.

The locked door stood behind me like another enemy, and the small window before me showed smoke rising beyond the northern trees.

My wolf clawed inside my chest, wild with fear and fury, because she knew a trap was closing around us.

I pressed my ear against the door and heard servants running through the hallway, their frightened footsteps rushing away from the servant wing.

“Lowell!” I shouted, striking the wood with both fists until pain shot through my knuckles and up my arms.

Nobody answered, but I knew someone had heard me because the hallway suddenly became too quiet for a burning pack house.

Then soft footsteps approached the door, slow and careful, like someone enjoying the sound of my fear before opening the cage.

The key turned once, and my hope rose like a foolish bird before Ashina stepped inside with a lantern in her hand.

Her face wore fear for any watching eyes, but her smile belonged to the darkness that had written the note.

“You received my little warning,” Ashina said, closing the door behind her before the light from the hallway could betray her.

I looked at the paper in my hand, then back at her, and everything inside me became cold and painfully clear.

“You sent it because you wanted me afraid enough to run,” I said, folding the note slowly between my fingers.

Ashina tilted her head, and the lantern light kissed her cheek like even fire had chosen her side tonight.

“You were always clever, Daciana, but clever women still fall when everyone is waiting to see them prove their guilt.”

Her words reached the deepest part of my fear, because running would make me look guilty, and staying might get me killed.

I stepped closer, forcing my shaking hands to stay at my sides when my wolf wanted her throat between our claws.

“What is your second lie?” I asked because knowing the knife was sometimes the only way to survive the wound.

Ashina’s eyes glittered, and for one breath, she looked almost disappointed that I had not begged her for mercy.

“By midnight, Bardolph will believe you helped Northridge attack the border, then tried to poison me before escaping justice.”

I stared at her, unable to understand how one maid could carry so much cruelty behind such a soft face.

“You are destroying the pack just to steal a man who will hate you when he learns the truth,” I said.

Ashina laughed quietly, and the sound was worse than shouting because it had no fear inside it.

“Men do not hate the woman who comforts them when another woman breaks them,” she said, touching the scarf around her neck.

The movement pulled my eyes to the covered skin, and the pain in my bond burned so sharply that I almost staggered.

“You were with him,” I whispered, though part of me had known since the moment she smiled outside the hall.

Ashina’s smile became slow and cruel, and the room seemed to shrink around the sound of my own breathing.

“He came to me broken, angry, and hungry for someone who would not challenge him,” she said with poisonous sweetness.

I wanted to deny it, but the mate bond pulsed with shame, and that shame did not belong to me.

My throat tightened as I remembered Bardolph’s hands on my face beneath the blood moon, promising nobody would ever stand between us.

“You used his pain,” I said, and my voice cracked because betrayal hurt more when love had made the knife.

“I used what you wasted,” Ashina answered, stepping so close that her perfume curled around me like smoke.

Before I could move, she lifted a small silver pin and dragged it across her own wrist with a sharp gasp.

Blood brightened against her skin, and my wolf froze in horror because I knew the trap before Ashina even screamed.

She threw herself backward against the door, knocking the lantern down so hard that firelight danced wildly across the floor.

“Help!” Ashina screamed, pressing her bleeding wrist against her chest while tears burst from her eyes like magic.

The door flew open almost instantly, and two guards rushed in, followed by Lowell, whose face went pale when he saw the blood.

Ashina pointed at me with a shaking hand, and her voice broke in all the places innocent voices were supposed to break.

“She attacked me because I found her escape note,” Ashina cried, showing them the blood I had not spilled.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the note in my hand suddenly felt heavier than any chain ever made.

Lowell looked from Ashina to me, and I saw the terrible battle inside him as fear fought against the truth.

“She cut herself,” I said, holding my hands up so everyone could see there was no blood on my fingers.

Ashina sobbed harder, collapsing against Lowell’s chest, and I hated how quickly pity could blind people to simple facts.

“She has no blood on her hands because she wiped the blade on her robe,” Ashina whispered, pointing weakly at my side.

I looked down and saw a thin red stain across the white cloth, placed there when Ashina stepped close enough to touch me.

The guards drew back from me as if my silence had become a confession, and Lowell’s eyes filled with helpless horror.

“Lock her inside and call the Alpha,” one guard ordered, while the other helped Ashina into the hallway.

I stepped toward Lowell because he was the only one who had almost told me the truth before fear swallowed him.

“You know she is lying,” I said softly, making sure my voice carried the weight of every life I had saved here.

Lowell’s jaw trembled, but then Ashina cried his name, and the young guard turned away from me like a coward.

The door slammed shut again, and this time the key turned twice, sealing me inside with smoke, bells, and betrayal.

(Bardolph’s POV)

Blood covered Ashina’s wrist when they brought her into my study, and the sight made my wolf roar with rage.

For one cruel second, all the doubts Farkas had placed in my mind burned away beneath the smell of fresh blood.

Ashina clung to Lowell as she could barely stand, yet her eyes searched for me with the desperate trust of a frightened woman.

“She tried to kill me,” Ashina whispered, and those five words struck the room harder than the border attack itself.

Farkas stood near the desk, his old face unreadable, but I saw suspicion tighten the corners of his eyes.

“Let the healer inspect the wound before we decide what happened,” Farkas said, sounding calm enough to make my anger worse.

I turned on him with a growl because the night was already filled with blood, smoke, and accusations against my mate.

“You question a bleeding servant while my patrol lies dead because someone opened the northern road?” I demanded.

Farkas did not bow, which reminded me why my father had trusted him and why other men feared him.

“I question any story that arrives exactly when doubt begins to touch the first story,” he answered, looking straight at Ashina.

Ashina flinched as if his words had struck her, and my protective anger rose before wisdom could stop it.

“She has risked everything to speak against Daciana,” I said, though the name tasted like pain in my mouth.

“She has gained everything by speaking against Daciana,” Farkas replied, and the study fell silent beneath that dangerous truth.

Ashina sobbed softly, and I hated myself because part of me wanted to comfort her while another part wanted to run to Daciana.

My wolf paced behind my ribs, snarling that our mate was locked away while another woman’s scent covered the room.

Hrolf entered before I could answer, carrying a black pouch sealed with the mark of our own medicine room.

“Alpha, we found this beneath Daciana’s mattress in the servant wing,” Hrolf said, placing the pouch on my desk.

I opened it and found crushed wolfsbane wrapped in cloth, along with a small silver blade stained with fresh blood.

The air left my lungs slowly, because wolfsbane was used to weaken werewolves before poison or silver finished the work.

Farkas reached for the blade, but Hrolf stopped him with a sharp look that made the old elder’s eyes narrow.

“Careful, Farkas, unless you want your hands smelling like the evidence,” Hrolf said, and the warning sounded too prepared.

I stared at the blade, then at Ashina’s wound, and the neatness of the proof should have frightened me more than it did.

Instead, it gave my anger somewhere to stand, because anger needed solid ground before it became judgment.

“Bring Daciana to the great hall,” I ordered, hearing my own voice turn into the voice of an Alpha, not a mate.

Ashina gasped softly, and I saw fear cross her face before she hid it against Lowell’s shoulder.

“My Alpha, please do not face her alone,” she begged, making the warriors near the door tighten their grips on their weapons.

I wanted to tell her Daciana would never hurt me, but the words stayed trapped behind the memory of those letters.

Farkas stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear the warning hiding beneath his obedience.

“Alpha, if you judge her tonight, you may lose the truth before you ever find it,” he said.

I looked toward the window where the smoke beyond the border had turned the moon red above the trees.

“If she opened my border and raised a blade against my pack, then truth has already lost me,” I answered.

(Daciana POV)

They dragged me into the great hall beneath the red moon, but I walked the final steps without letting them pull me.

Every pack member who could stand had gathered there, their faces pale with fear and anger from the northern attack.

Some wore blood on their clothes, some carried wounded children, and some stared at me as I had personally lit the fires.

I searched the crowd for one friendly face, but pity had hidden itself behind fear, and fear had married hatred.

Then I saw Bardolph standing before the Alpha chair, and the sight nearly broke the strength I had forced into my spine.

He looked like war made flesh, his eyes bright with rage and his hands clenched hard enough to show his claws.

Ashina sat near him with her bandaged wrist against her chest, wearing my old blue shawl around her shoulders.

That shawl had been a gift from Bardolph after my first winter as Luna, and seeing it on her felt like being skinned.

I stopped before the elders and lifted my chin, refusing to kneel when I had committed no crime against my pack.

Boris stepped forward with a scroll in his hand, looking far too pleased for a man standing among wounded wolves.

“Daciana, former Luna of Blackfang, you stand accused of treason, planned escape, attempted murder, and aiding Northridge wolves,” he declared.

The word "former" moved through the hall like a blade, and several servants looked down because even they felt its cruelty.

“I deny every charge,” I said, keeping my voice steady though my heart was breaking in front of everyone.

Bardolph’s eyes met mine, and pain flashed there so quickly that I almost believed my mate still existed beneath the Alpha.

“Then explain the letters, the border attack, the wolfsbane, and Ashina’s blood,” he said, each proof becoming another wall between us.

“I can explain only one thing,” I answered, stepping forward before the guards could decide whether to stop me.

The hall grew quiet, and even Ashina leaned closer as if she feared truth might be stronger than her plan.

“Someone wants you blind, Bardolph, and they are using your pride because they know it is easier to wound than your heart.”

A dangerous murmur passed through the pack because nobody spoke to an Alpha that way unless love or death had stolen fear.

Bardolph’s jaw tightened, but his eyes did not leave mine, and the bond between us trembled like a dying flame.

Ashina rose suddenly, swaying as if my words had hurt her wounded body more than the cut on her wrist.

“She is twisting you again, my Alpha,” Ashina cried, and the crowd shifted toward her pain like grass bending toward rain.

I looked at her, and my wolf finally understood something that made the whole room feel colder than winter.

Ashina was not only lying because she wanted Bardolph; she was performing for people who had already agreed to hate me.

I turned to the crowd, searching their faces, and saw Hrolf nod once to Boris before Boris unrolled another paper.

“We have one more witness,” Boris announced, and my stomach dropped because traps always had one final door.

A woman stepped from the back of the hall wearing a servant’s brown dress, her face hidden beneath a plain hood.

When she lowered the hood, my breath stopped because I knew her as Louve, the kitchen maid I had once saved from exile.

Louve’s eyes were swollen from crying, but she would not look at me, and that told me fear had already bought her tongue.

“She gave me the pouch,” Louve whispered, pointing at me while tears rolled down her cheeks.

A sound of shock moved through the hall, and Bardolph’s face hardened like stone around the pain he refused to show.

I stared at Louve, remembering how she had held my hands after I begged Bardolph to forgive her brother’s theft.

“Look at me and say that again,” I said, because some lies died when forced to face the person they killed.

Louve lifted her eyes for one second, and what I saw there was not guilt, hatred, or belief in my crimes.

It was terror.

Then her gaze flicked toward Hrolf, so quickly most people missed it, but I did not miss the way he touched his dagger.

The truth opened beneath me like a dark hole because Ashina had help from someone stronger than a maid should have.

Before I could speak, Louve’s knees buckled, and foam spilled from her mouth as she collapsed onto the stone floor.

Screams exploded through the hall, and the healer rushed forward while Ashina covered her mouth with perfectly timed horror.

I tried to run to Louve, but guards blocked me, and Bardolph’s eyes turned deadly as poison filled the air.

“She killed the witness,” Boris shouted, though Louve had fallen too far from me for my hands to have reached her.

The pack roared with fury, and for the first time that night, I saw Bardolph truly believe I was lost to him.

My mate walked toward me slowly, and every step tore the bond wider until I felt blood in my soul.

“Daciana of Blackfang,” he said, his voice shaking with anger, grief, and something close to madness.

I knew what was coming before he said it, and my wolf howled so loudly inside me that I almost fell.

“No,” I whispered, but the word disappeared beneath the storm of the pack’s rage and the cruel light in Ashina’s eyes.

Bardolph raised his hand, and the hall became silent enough for my own broken breathing to shame me.

“Before this pack and under the red moon, I reject you as my mate and remove you forever as my Luna,” he said.

The bond snapped like fire through my bones.

I screamed before I knew the sound was mine, and Bardolph staggered as if the same invisible blade had cut him too.

For one heartbeat, his face changed, and I saw the man who had once loved me trapped behind the Alpha who destroyed me.

Then Ashina cried out and fell into his arms, stealing even the moment of my pain as if it belonged to her.

The guards dragged me backward while the pack shouted for chains, exile, or death beneath the burning red moon.

I could barely breathe, but I saw Farkas watching me with fierce, hidden warning as he slipped something beneath his sleeve.

He moved through the crowd like an old shadow, then dropped a small iron key near my foot without looking down.

Hope came to me in the shape of cold metal and one old man’s silent betrayal of the Alpha’s order.

I curled my toes over the key before the guard could see it, hiding the only chance I had left.

Ashina lifted her face from Bardolph’s chest and looked at me across the hall with a smile meant only for my ruin.

Then the healer screamed from beside Louve’s body, and every person in the hall turned toward the fallen witness.

“She is still alive,” the healer shouted, his voice cracking with fear as Louve’s eyes opened wide.

Louve pointed one shaking finger toward the Alpha chair, but her gaze was not on me, Bardolph, or Ashina.

Her finger pointed straight at Hrolf.

Then blood spilled from her mouth as she whispered one name that froze the entire pack into deadly silence.

“Conri.”