19: Silver blade

Natasha's POV

It started like a shift in wind. One moment I was standing by the corner table, still catching my breath from the storm of whispers, and the next—faces were turning. Slowly. Almost too slowly. Like they had been waiting for something. For someone to nod. For a silent cue.

I saw them.

A small cluster at first. Three... no, four of them, breaking away from the crowd. Their smiles were gone now. All of them. Even the ones who had been pretending just minutes ago. They weren’t hiding it anymore.

And at the front of the group, hair as red as spilled wine and eyes set with purpose, was her.

Ashley.

The dress she wore shimmered like it had been sewn from moonlight, clinging to her body like it belonged there. She didn’t look like someone who had been humiliated days ago. She didn’t look like someone with shame. She looked like someone with unfinished business.

My legs refused to move.

She kept walking. They all did. I could hear the heels clicking softly over the marble. Slow and steady. Like they had all the time in the world.

I turned to my right, toward the Beta, hoping, praying he’d be watching. That he’d see them. That someone would. But he wasn’t. He was still talking to that strange man in robes—eyes locked, hands gesturing, deep in whatever conversation they were lost in. He didn’t even glance my way.

I stepped back. Then again. But by then, it was too late.

They had me cornered. Right there between the table and the marble pillar. Their bodies fanned out in front of me like a wall of silk and perfume and fury.

Ashley stepped forward, closer. Her smile was soft this time. But it didn’t reach her eyes.

"I thought maybe you’d have learned your place by now," she whispered, voice low enough that only I could hear.

I didn’t answer. My lips refused to move.

Behind her, one of the other women glanced around, checking the room, and when no one was looking directly at us, she gave a nod. That was the moment I knew. They didn’t care anymore.

They didn’t even need to hide.

Ashley’s hand moved slowly, fingers grazing down the slit of her dress. When it came back up, it carried a glint. A small silver blade.

My breath caught in my throat.

"You think you belong here," she whispered. "You think you’ve won. But you’re just a moment. A stain. And stains get washed off."

I tried to speak. Tried to call out. But no words came.

She raised the blade.

I screamed.

It wasn’t loud enough. It wasn’t strong. It was thin and raw and full of fear. My wolf was howling now, but my body wasn’t moving. My limbs were locked. My knees weak.

The Beta still hadn’t turned.

I looked past them all, past the lights and the laughter and the dancers twirling on the far end of the hall. None of them noticed. Or maybe they did. Maybe they were all just waiting.

My eyes flicked to Elder Hadrek.

He was standing now.

Not far away, his eyes burning brighter than ever. The corner of his mouth curled, slow and deliberate. Like he was finally seeing the pieces fall into place.

I tried.

Tried to reach Lucien through mind link. My thoughts raced, tumbled, screamed his name again and again. But the line was dead. Like someone had cut the cord. There was no pull, no warmth, no connection. Just silence.

And Ashley’s hand was rising.

The blade caught the light, shimmered once. I saw it coming, and all I could do was raise my arms in defense, bracing for the pain.

But it never came.

The room changed.

Like the sky splitting open after a storm. The temperature dropped. The music scratched to a halt. The whispers stopped. Everything stood still.

He was back.

King Lucien.

He didn’t walk in. He stormed. The door slammed open behind him, and even though his steps were quiet, they carried weight. The kind that silences.

Ashley froze.

Everyone did.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t shout. Didn’t ask questions. His eyes swept the hall like a blade, cutting through the crowd, finding every guilty face.

Then he found me.

I was still frozen. Still shaking. Still holding my arms out in a weak shield.

And just like that—everything returned to normal.

Ashley stepped back, the blade gone like it had never existed. Her smile returned, wide and fake. The other girls scattered, laughing like they’d just shared a private joke.

People returned to their drinks. Their music. Their dancing.

But it wasn’t normal.

It wasn’t real.

Because I saw it. All of it.

Someone muttered near the wall, loud enough to reach me.

"Psychopath Queen."

Ashley’s smirk widened.

And I knew...

She's messing with my mind.