Chapter 89: I should kill you

Conri stormed into his study in a blind rage, his entire body trembling as he leaned heavily on his cane.

Reaching out, he grabbed a ceramic vase from the desk and hurled it across the room with a guttural snarl. The vase smashed against the wall, showering sharp pieces across the floor.

Bethany rushed into the room, Joffrey right on her heels, alarmed by the shattering sound.

"Conri! What is it?" Bethany hurried to his side, reaching for his arm, but he violently shoved her away.

"The Rogue King backed out!" Conri roared, his chest heaving. "The coward didn’t even have the decency to face me! He sent a wretched scout to deliver the news!"

"I don’t understand," Bethany frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Why would he abandon the plan now?"

"I don’t know!" Conri raged, sinking into the couch in the corner. "And on the night of the Moon Ceremony, no less! We cannot move against the throne alone. Without the rogues, Dorian will slaughter us!"

Bethany approached him cautiously, resting a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Calm yourself, Conri. Tell me what happened. Why did the Rogue King flee?"

Conri let out a harsh breath. "He gave no explanation. But when Reynold and I revealed what the girl actually is, his entire demeanor shifted. He looked terrified. Today, his messengers confirmed he retreated his forces. He wants nothing to do with her."

"Perhaps he will reconsider..."

"He won’t be coming back, Bethany!" Conri snapped. "Something about that girl terrified a man who commands thousands of bloodthirsty rogues."

A tense silence settled over the study until Joffrey stepped forward, his dark eyes calculating.

"All is not lost," he murmured. "The shapeshifter is still lurking inside Dorian’s home undetected. We can use him."

"We can’t," Conri growled dismissively. "Pilate made it clear from the start that he was seeking his own vengeance. He was never our ally. He only used us to gain information."

"It doesn’t matter whose side he claims to be on," Joffrey insisted. "The outcome remains the same. Whether Pilate acts for himself or for us, Dorian dies tonight. Once he’s dead, the North falls into chaos, and we take over."

Conri considered his son’s words, the dark fog in his mind clearing as realization dawned on him.

"Hmm," he grunted, his fingers tightening over his cane. "You’re right. It still serves our ends. Dorian dies either way."

"Precisely," Joffrey nodded. "All we need to do is attend the ceremony, to be free of all suspicion when it happens. Knowing the kind of assassin Pilate is, he will strike when the ceremony is at its peak. We must be ready to seize the throne the second Dorian falls."

What none of them realized was that Pilate had played them too. He knew better than to make a move on Dorian in the middle of a huge ceremony. His plan was to use Alyssa to lure Dorian out before killing him.

...

"Look at you," Alyssa gasped, stepping into the corridor as Henna approached. "You are practically glowing!"

"Oh, stop," Henna chuckled softly, a deep blush rising to her cheeks as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear.

She looked transformed. The exhaustion had vanished from her skin, replaced by a radiant warmth. Her green eyes were no longer haunted by dark memories.

And resting at the slope of her neck, right where her shoulder met her collarbone, was a fresh mark etched into her skin; the silhouette of a wolf beneath a crescent moon.

"Your mark," Alyssa breathed in awe. "It’s beautiful."

"Thank you," Henna beamed softly, her hand rising to brush over the tender skin. "I feel... complete. Being near Jake worked like magic. He was so gentle with me, Alyssa. So patient."

Alyssa’s smile widened. She knew Jake possessed the same quiet, fierce devotion as Dorian.

"I’m so happy for you, Henna," she said gently, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Jake is the perfect mate for you."

"He makes me feel safe," Henna murmured. "I’ve only known him a short time, but the mate bond makes everything perfect."

Alyssa smiled, but a quiet ache settled in her chest. She couldn’t help wondering what the mate bond truly felt like; to be marked, claimed, and bound to the soul of the man you loved. She longed for it with every fiber of her being.

"Come," she said, shaking off the stray thought. "Let’s join everyone else for breakfast."

As the two of them walked down the hallway, a shadow stepped out from a dark passage. It was Seth.

He watched their retreating figures, his dark eyes fixed on the back of Alyssa’s neck. Then he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Time was running out. He needed a fresh form before the ceremony began, someone who could move freely through the mansion without raising suspicion.

And he knew exactly who to take next.

Moving down toward the servants’ quarters, he passed several young maids who cast coy, suggestive glances in his direction. The original Seth had been a reckless skirt-chaser, using his position to mess around with the female staff. It had served as a convenient shield for a while, but things were changing now.

He stopped outside a small room at the end of the hall and slipped inside without knocking.

Samantha whirled around, startled. She had been standing near the window, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to warn Dorian without getting herself killed.

Seeing Seth walk in, her blood ran cold.

"What are you doing here?" she breathed.

"I can hear your heart hammering loudly, Sam," he rasped, taking a slow step forward. "Why so skittish?"

Samantha took a step backward, her back hitting the window frame. "Seth, please..."

"Stop calling me that," he growled, his jaw shifting at an unnatural angle. "I know you’ve seen your brother’s corpse, so quit pretending."

Tears spilled down Samantha’s pale cheeks. "Who are you?" she whispered in terror. "Why did you kill him? What do you want?"

"You don’t need the answers to those questions," he hissed. "But I certainly can’t risk you running off to reveal everything to the Alpha King."

Before Samantha could scream, he moved with a swift, unnatural speed. His hand clamped over her face, pressing a chemical-soaked rag tightly over her nose and mouth.

She thrashed wildly for three breathless seconds before her eyes rolled back into her head, her body going completely limp in his arms.

"A pity," he muttered, hauling her unconscious body toward the large wardrobe in the corner and shoving her inside. "I should kill you, but that will just ruin my plans."

He latched the wardrobe doors shut and stood in the center of the room, closing his eyes.

Seconds later, ​a sickening crunch echoed through the quiet space as his bones fractured, shifting and reforming beneath his flesh. Seth’s features dissolved like melting wax, shrinking and reshaping until every curve, line, and shape shifted into a flawless replica of Samantha.

Pilate opened his eyes, took a step towards the mirror and examined his reflection.

Satisfied with the transformation, he turned and stepped out into the hallway to begin the next phase of his trap.