Chapter 21 Serena’s First attack

Chapter 21: Chapter 21 Serena’s First attack

Talia’s POV

I pulled out another dress. This one was dark green, like the forest after rain. The fabric was soft, and the stitching was perfect. I held it against my chest and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

The glamour charm still hid my real face, and showed my plain eyes, dull hair, and my skin that was the color of old paper. But the dress made me look different. Not beautiful, just... less invisible.

I wondered what my mother would think if she saw me now. Standing in an Alpha’s room, surrounded by clothes I did not ask for. She would probably smile, or cry, or maybe both.

I folded the green dress and set it aside. Then I reached for another bag.

I did not understand. Why would he do this? Why would he care so much?

I dressed quickly, choosing a simple gray dress from one of the bags. It fit better than anything I had ever worn. The fabric was warm, and it did not hang loose like my old clothes.

After staring at myself in the mirror for a while, my stomach made noises to remind me of breakfast.

I sat down quickly, and ate breakfast. The pancakes were warm and sweet. I had not tasted anything like them before.

The eggs were fluffy, and the bread was still warm from the oven. I ate slowly, savoring every bite. In Cresswood, breakfast was whatever was left over from the servants’ meals. It could be stale bread, cold porridge, and sometimes nothing at all.

I wondered if this was what normal life felt like. Waking up to warm food, having clothes that fit, and not being afraid of what the day would bring.

But I was still afraid. The Luna Trials were coming, the pack did not want me, and the women’s words from the gathering hall still echoed in my head.

She will not pass, she is weak.

I set the empty plate down and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

After resting for a while, I decided to go out and take a walk.

I stood up, walked to the door, took a breath and opened the door.

The hallway was empty.

I stepped out and closed the door behind me. The torches flickered, and the shadows danced across the stone floors.

I did not know where I was going, but I just walked.

Left, then right, then down a flight of stairs.

And then I saw her.

She was standing near the window, with her arms crossed, and her eyes watching me. Her hair was blonde, and her dress was perfect. Her smile was sweet, but her eyes were sharp.

She walked toward me.

"Luna Talia," she said. "I am Serena Vane."

I stopped. "Hello."

She looked me up and down, and her eyes lingered on my dress.

"I saw Alpha Kaelen instructing the servants this morning. So many shopping bags, and the latest designs too. He must have spent a fortune."

She tilted her head.

"You must be so pleased with yourself, right?"

My heart pounded, but I kept my face still.

"It is just clothes," I said.

"Just clothes?" She laughed. It was a small sound, cold and sharp. "He has never bought clothes for anyone before. Not even me."

I did not know what to say. So I said nothing.

Serena stepped closer. Her perfume was thick and sweet, like flowers trying to cover up something rotten.

"I hope you are comfortable," she said. "This must be so overwhelming for someone like you."

’Someone like me.’

She meant ugly, poor, and unworthy.

I held her gaze. "I am fine. Thank you."

She waited, like she expected me to say more. But I did not.

Then she smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

"Enjoy your new things," she said. "I am sure they will not last."

She did not walk away.

She stepped closer instead, and her hand came up, light and casual, as if she were brushing a thread from my collar. Two fingers caught the chain of my mother’s necklace and lifted it clear of my dress.

I stopped breathing.

"What is this?" she said, turning the little stone toward the light. "Old. Cheap. You wear it like it matters."

"Please let go."

She did not let go. She looked at me the way a person looks at a stray dog that has wandered into the wrong house—curious, and not quite convinced it deserves to be indoors.

"You know what I think?" she said. "I think the Alpha took pity on you. I think he saw a girl so ugly and so pitiful that leaving her in that storage room would have kept him awake at night." She smiled. "So he brought you here, and dressed you up, and told himself that was kindness. But the bond does not lie, and neither does this pack. Everyone here knows you are a placeholder." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

Her fingers tightened—just slightly—on the chain.

The clasp gave way with a small, terrible sound.

I felt it before I understood it. The chain went slack against my neck, and the charm tipped forward, and for one endless half-second I knew—with more certainty than I had ever known anything—that if it fell, everything fell with it.

I did not think.

I dropped my chin to my chest and bent, fast, my hand flying up to catch the stone against my chest before it could swing free. My hair fell forward and covered my face, and I stayed there, doubled over, one hand pressed flat over the charm, the other braced on my knee, breathing through my teeth.

Behind my hair, my eyes were wide. My real eyes. My real face, one breath away from the light.

Above me, Serena laughed.

"Look at her," she said. "She cannot even hold her head up."

I did not move. I could not. My thumb found the broken clasp and pressed the two ends together against my skin—not fixed, just held—and I counted. ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. The way Piper taught me. SIX. SEVEN. EIGHT.

"Let her grovel," Serena said. "It is what she is good at."

Her footsteps moved away down the corridor.

I stayed bent for three more counts after the sound of her heels had faded, because I did not trust my body yet. Then, slowly, I straightened—one hand still flat over the charm—and looked around. The corridor was empty.

I let out a breath I had not known I was holding.

The clasp had come apart. The charm lay loose in my palm—warm, alive, still hiding me. But the chain no longer held it. Nothing held it but my hand.

I did not walk back to my room like that. I could not. Not with my fist closed over my own throat like a secret. So I turned toward the wall and worked quickly, the way I had learned to do everything in Cresswood—quietly, and with my back to the world.

I bent the small hooks back into shape with my thumbnail. I pressed the clasp closed until I felt it catch—properly this time, the way my mother’s hands had once fastened it. Then I tested it, gently, the way you test a wound.

It held.

I tucked the chain back under my collar, where it belonged, and let my hand fall to my side.

The necklace was whole again. Anyone looking at me would see exactly what they had seen before—a plain girl in a gray dress, wearing an old chain.

But I knew now. That was the difference.

It had broken once, so it could break again. And if it ever broke in the wrong moment, in front of the wrong eyes, there would be no hiding, no bending, and no quick hand at my chest.

There would only be my real face, bare in the light, and every reason my mother had hidden me, walking into the open.

I tucked the thought away where I keep the things I cannot afford to feel, and I walked the other way down the corridor, with one conclusion settling into my heart like a stone.

Serena Vane was not my friend.

She was my enemy.

And she had just put her fingers on the latch of the only door that kept me alive.