Se connecterLEAH’S POV
"Do not... do not say a single word," Luna Mary whispers, her voice trembling violently despite her desperate attempt to sound authoritative and cold. "You will speak of this to no one. Do you hear me, Leah? Not a single soul!" "I... I understand, Luna Mary," I say, dropping my gaze meekly and letting my shoulder drop as if cowed by her command. "I will keep quiet. I’m just an omega, after all." Luna Mary shoves my hand away as if my skin has burned her. Her chest rises and falls in rapid, panicked sweeps as she forces herself to take three deep, shuddering breaths. She reaches up with shaking, gloved hands, frantically smoothing down her hair, adjusting her high collar, and pulling her cold, high-class mask back over her pale face. She picks up the heavy silver tray of sweet berry desserts from the counter, her hands visibly trembling against the polished metal surface, causing the glass bowls to rattle softly against each other. "Know your place, Leah," she snaps, though her voice lacks every single ounce of its former bite. It sounds hollow and frail. "Stay in this kitchen until we have finished eating and your family is ready to leave." She turns on her heel and walks swiftly out of the kitchen, her high heels clicking frantically against the stone corridor as she rushes back toward the dining hall to face her cheating husband and her beloved Willow. The heavy wooden door swings shut behind her with a dull thud. The second the latch clicks, my innocent, timid posture completely melts away. I straighten my spine, tilting my head back as a low, dark chuckle bubbles up from deep within my chest. I raise my hand to my lips, letting a sharp, villainous smile spread across my face. In my past life, Luna Mary died before I ever made it to my second term at Eclipse Academy. The pack claimed she suffered a sudden, tragic heart attack during a lonely winter evening. But a few months later, faint rumors spread through the dark channels of the territory that she had locked herself in her grand quarters and drunk an entire bottle of toxic wolfsbane brew until she choked on her own blood. Back then, naive and suffering at eclipse, I thought it was just a tragic loss for the Alpha's family. I mourned her alongside the rest of the pack, foolishly believing she was a victim of sudden illness. But standing here now, watching how quickly she scrambled to hide her husband's affair and cover up Willow's betrayal, the whole bloody picture comes into crystal focus. She didn’t just die of a broken heart or a random illness. She was backed into a corner, isolated, humiliated, and destroyed by the very secrets living under her own roof. ‘It was fishy then,’ I think, my eyes gleaming with pure, cold amusement in the dim kitchen light, ‘and seeing how desperately she tries to keep up appearances now... it is even more fishy now.’ It seems I wasn’t the only one in this cursed, hypocritical pack who got killed before their time. The only difference is that this time, I’m the one pulling the threads from the dark. "Let’s see you hug your dear 'mother-in-law' now, Willow," I whisper to the empty room, my voice dripping with venom. "Let’s see how sweet and tender she acts toward you when she realizes you have been helping her husband cover up his dirt." The seed has been planted. It’s a slow, invisible poison. Luna Mary will look at Willow with suspicion, disgust, and quiet, burning rage every single day from this moment on. Every time Willow smiles, every time Willow tries to play the sweet daughter, Luna Mary will only see the bloodroot ivy. Their sweet, perfect bond is fractured beyond repair, and neither of them can ever fix it without exposing the ugly truth to the entire pack. I turn my back on the kitchen island and walk toward the tall glass window overlooking the dark estate gardens. Outside, the cool night wind sways the heavy oak trees, casting long, twisting shadows across the manicured lawns. Down below, the paved driveway stretches out toward the main iron gates of the Harvest Moon territory. I have no intention of sitting through tomorrow's fake, boring send-off ceremony. I don’t care about Everest’s proud, arrogant speeches, Bea’s fake, pathetic tears, or Asher’s warnings about not disgracing the pack. I’m done playing the quiet victim in this house. My time as their whipping girl ended the moment I opened my eyes in this second life. "I’m not waiting for that stupid send-off ball tomorrow," I say softly, watching my own reflection in the dark glass of the window. A dark, sharp smile touches my lips as I look at my own eyes in the reflection—eyes that no longer hold a drop of warmth or fear. Eclipse Academy is a massive, dangerous territory governed by the Dean no one knows about, and supported by the four major packs. It’s a place of blood and power. Right on its grounds lies something very specific—something powerful, something absolute that can rewrite the entire balance of power and give me the leverage I need to start my real plans early. In my past life, that very thing was discovered by someone else because I was too late, too weak, and too distracted by my own misery to reach it first. "I need to be the first one there to get it," I whisper, my voice filled with razor-sharp determination that cuts through the quiet night air. "Even if I have to arrive a whole week early before the gates officially open." I turn away from the window, smooth down the simple skirt of my green dress, and head toward the back servant's exit. I step out of the heavy wooden servant's door and into the cool, damp night air. The smell of pine needles and damp earth fills my lungs, a sharp contrast to the suffocating aura of the main house.LEAH’S POV Something shifts in his expression. It is so slight that I might have imagined it. Not quite amusement. Not quite approval. Perhaps he simply finds my answer interesting.He leans back a fraction in his chair. “Then why are you eating it?”“Because the academy provides free meals.”“And?”“And because I am hungry.”For the first time, I see a faint change in his eyes. It disappears almost immediately. I am beginning to suspect that Uriel Thorne considers visible emotional reactions a personal failure.I would like to ask whether he was born like this or whether someone trained him to be insufferable. Unfortunately, I value my continued existence, so I keep my mouth shut. Uriel rests his hands on the table again. “Look at me, Bellmoore.”I am already looking at him. I consider pointing this out. Instead, I remain silent.His gaze sharpens. “Look at me properly.”My stomach tightens.The command is quiet. It does not need to be loud. I raise my chin a fraction, forcing mys
LEAH’S POV For one absurd moment, I genuinely wonder whether I have died and arrived in some unpleasant version of the afterlife.Perhaps the gods have decided that my brief period of peace was excessive.Perhaps they have concluded that two days of rest, expensive food, and relative freedom from disaster were more than I deserved.Or maybe I am simply being punished for thinking that the worst of the trial was behind me.Uriel rests his elbows casually on the wooden table, interlocking his pale fingers together.He looks perfectly comfortable. That is the most alarming part.He does not appear angry. He does not appear confused.He does not even look particularly interested in the fact that hundreds of students are watching him sit across from the unranked omega who has become the subject of half the academy’s gossip.He looks as though he has selected a seat in the cafeteria, decided it is satisfactory, and intends to remain there until he has finished whatever brought him here.I
LEAH’S POV A student at the next table stops talking. Someone near the center of the hall lowers his spoon. A chair scrapes against the floor. Then the steady hum of conversation in the cafeteria begins to fade. It does not happen all at once. It starts near the main entrance, a slow rippling silence that spreads outward from table to table like water freezing over in winter. Silverware stops clinking against ceramic plates. Whispers die in throats. Laughter cuts off mid-sentence. The sound of a glass being placed on a table suddenly seems far too loud. I keep my eyes glued to my phone screen, pretending to read an article about campus security patrols. My thumb remains suspended above the display. I am no longer reading. Something has changed. I can feel it in the way the students around me have gone still, in the sudden tension gathering across the room, and in the strange pressure that seems to settle over my skin. My instincts flare to life, screaming at the base of my s
LEAH’S POV For the omegas, who the administration apparently believes should maintain a fragile, slender physique and watch their caloric intake like caged birds, the menu is distinctly different. The kitchen server drops a wooden bowl onto my tray— steamed white rice, a handful of boiled corn kernels, and a small side of unseasoned, watery tofu. I look at the bowl. Then I look at the server. The server looks at me. Neither of us says anything. Perhaps she is waiting for me to complain. Perhaps she is hoping I will simply accept the meal and move along. As I pick up my tray, the light in my eyes dies a bit. Not that I have anything against tofu on principle. Tofu is perfectly respectable when prepared properly. It can be fried, seasoned, simmered in sauce, or combined with enough spices to make even the most stubborn person reconsider their prejudices. But this? This is not a meal. This is an insult that happens to be edible. Looking at it next to the memory of the alpha’s st
LEAH’S POV A few were clever enough to make their advances sound like jokes, leaving me to wonder whether anyone would believe me if I complained. The pattern never changed. First, they turned me into a rumor. Then they used the rumor to justify whatever they wanted to do to me. And if I fought back, they made me the villain. I survived those days. I survived them because I learned to keep track of exits, recognize the sound of approaching footsteps, and never assume that a friendly smile meant I was safe. I survived because I learned that some people did not need proof of anything. They only needed an excuse. The memory leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I do not miss my previous life. Not even for a second. There are moments when I wish I could reach backward through time and drag my former self away from every room where someone made me feel small. I wish I could tell that person that none of it was deserved. That being quiet did not mean consent. That being kind did not
LEAH’S POV I have heard insults about my appearance before. I have heard people question my intelligence, my background, and my right to occupy the same classrooms as students from the Great Packs. But used goods? That is a new level of stupidity. “What do you mean?” his companion asks. The first beta scoffs and shakes his head. “Are you blind? Look at what happened during the trial. It is very clear what Regis, Uriel, and Jakob used her for behind the scenes.” The third beta lets out a low whistle. “You think they actually did something to her?” The first boy gives him a look that suggests he has just asked the most obvious question in the world. “What else was an omega like her supposed to do on a three-day trek with three alpha heirs? She was clearly there to spread her legs and suck their cocks whenever they wanted.” A few students passing nearby slow down. One of them makes a face. Another pretends to be interested in the contents of her bag. The second beta laughs. “We







