C4

Lyra Ashfang POV

"I am explicitly here to buy basic resources, Freya," I say, forcing a cold smile to mask the sudden spike of adrenaline burning my throat. "You are clearly hunting for luxury garments too, right?"

"Sister? Freya, since when do you claim a pathetic, skinny little half-breed mutant?"

The noble vampire lady standing right next to my cousin speaks with a screeching, piercing tone that makes my sensitive werewolf ears twitch in pure discomfort. She glares down her aristocratic nose at my four-foot-five frame, her upper lip curling back over her white fangs.

"I remember this trash now. This is the freak Lyra who Alpha Garrick kicked out of the Ashfang Moon Keep years ago. Why is her skin covered in such filthy, shabby rags? Is she intentionally trying to bring public shame to your pack territory?"

The vampire socialite’s voice gets louder, drawing the attention of several guards in the Crimson Noble Quarter. She stares at my dark complexion and frail body as if she is looking at a diseased stray dog dying in the gutters of Ebonhaven.

I let out a harsh, bitter grunt. I know these royal parasites are incapable of letting anything clean leave their mouths. Any high-born bitch walking alongside Freya is guaranteed to be a piece of pure garbage.

They will always do whatever dirty work it takes to please the Alpha's daughter, using my broken lineage as their personal footstool.

Freya notices the rigid, furious tension hardening my jawline. She lets out a slow, deeply satisfied purr, her golden wolf eyes gleaming with malicious pleasure. "Oh, don't be so cruel, Selene. Even though my useless little cousin doesn't reside within the main keep anymore, her blood technically still belongs to the Ashfang Moon Pack."

"Please, those clothes look like they were pulled from a fresh grave. She is an absolute insult to your bloodline, Freya. Only someone with your pure, angelic heart would ever admit to being related to this rat. If I were in your position, I would have ordered the pack executioners to shred her flesh and dump her bones in the wasteland. Just looking at her skinny body makes me feel like she is carrying a filthy, infectious plague."

Selene Frostveil aggressively pinches her nostrils together with her manicured claws, stepping back toward the luxury leather racks. She acts as if my very breath is toxic enough to rot her vampire flesh.

I don't let the insult break my focus. Instead, a dark, dangerous laugh slips past my teeth. I look directly into Selene's mocking eyes, completely unbothered by her desperate attempt to suck up to my cousin.

"It is your absolute right to play the role of Freya's obedient little lapdog," I say, my voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. "But I highly suggest you stop barking at people you don't know. Otherwise, the moon goddess might just watch your pretty little mouth rot right off your face."

Selene’s pale skin turns a violent shade of crimson. "Who the fuck do you think you are talking to, you subhuman mutt?"

"If you possess enough brain cells to look into a mirror, you will know exactly who I am mocking," I snap back, refusing to yield an inch of ground.

I have spent the last five winters listening to the vilest verbal abuse from the pack alphas while trying to secure medicine for Omega Kaela. These weak, petty insults from a noble lady cannot even scratch my skin.

Freya narrows her golden eyes, her fingers tightening around her expensive silk purse. It has been months since she last saw me, and it is clear she didn't expect me to possess this kind of biting venom. It seems my sudden integration into House Nightbane has given my tongue a lethal edge.

"Watch your tone, Selene," Freya warns, though her voice carries a heavy layer of deceptive amusement. "My younger cousin is now officially the second princess of House Nightbane. She doesn't just represent our pack territory anymore; she belongs to the Crimson Dominion. If she is broken or abused out here in the open, the royal vampires will blame my family. I certainly wouldn't want to explain your reckless mouth to my new brother-in-law."

"The wife of Prince Cassius Nightbane?" Selene bursts into a loud, mocking cackle, her fear instantly vanishing the moment the name registers.

"You mean that useless, crippled monster who sits in an obsidian chair? The prince whose lower body is entirely dead and ruined? Word around the royal courts is that he cannot even force a woman to scream in his bed, let alone claim her properly. Tell me, Lyra, is your sex life absolutely thrilling with a paralyzed mate?"

"Are you deeply jealous, Selene?" I take a predatory step closer, my internal monologue burning with a strange, protective rage I didn't expect. "If you crave his dark bed so badly, do you want me to hand over the title of second princess to you right now?"

"Do you think I envy a lifetime of playing nurse to a broken vampire?" Selene snaps, her fangs fully extending. She wants to spit more venom about his disability, but a sudden flash of panic stops her. She knows mocking the physical state of a royal prince of House Nightbane in a public market could get her entire lineage slaughtered if the King hears of it.

She doesn't have the courage to openly curse the royal family, but she has more than enough malice to take her frustration out on my small body. Without a single second of warning, Selene’s hand moves like a blur, her palm striking my cheek with the force of a battering ram.

The sheer velocity of the blow sends my four-foot-five frame crashing against the stone display table. My head spins violently, a hot, metallic taste filling my mouth instantly.

I raise my hand, wiping a thick smear of dark blood from the corner of my split lip. Instead of crying or begging, I slowly push myself off the floor and let out a dark, mocking laugh that echoes through the boutique.

The three women freeze, staring at me with genuine confusion. They look at my bloody face as if I have completely lost my mind under the force of the strike. Freya steps back, completely unable to read what my next move is going to be.

"What the hell is so funny, you psycho?" Selene demands, her voice wavering slightly as my laughter grows louder.

"I am laughing because you are undeniably the stupidest creature in Ebonhaven," I spit out, stepping right back into her personal space. "Though I am an abandoned daughter of the Ashfang pack, I am legally bound by a blood covenant to the second prince of the Crimson Dominion."

"So fucking what?" Selene sneers, trying to regain her confidence. "You are nothing but a glorified widow waiting for her master to rot. Don't forget, Cassius Nightbane is not the ruler of House Nightbane, and he never will be!"

She is entirely convinced he is a powerless cripple who will be pushed into a dark corner the moment King Magnus passes the crown to Prince Draven. She thinks I have absolutely no protection.

"And that exact thought is why your skull is hollow," I whisper, leaning so close she can smell the fresh blood on my breath. "If I return to the Crimson Citadel tonight and repeat every single disgusting word you just used to mock my husband's body, what do you think he will do to your family's estate?"

If the executioners of House Nightbane unleash their wrath, they won't just tear Selene’s limbs apart; they will raze her entire bloodline from the territory.

Selene’s pale face loses every single drop of its color. She stammers, taking a frantic step back. "What... what did I even say? I didn't utter a single threat against the prince. Stop framing me, you lying bitch!"

I look down at my bleeding hand, then look back up at her trembling frame. "Do you honestly believe the royal vampires will take the word of a minor noble lady over their own sworn princess?"