I lounge near the weapons rack, my fingers idly tracing the edge of a curved dagger as if I have all the time in the world. I am bored even though it is a performance. Everything I do is calculated and controlled, in the way a fire is contained until it is ready to devour.
They think I am just here early for training. But I am waiting. Watching.
The courtyard buzzes with activity, warriors sparring, young trainees fumbling through drills, omegas weaving between them with water and fresh linens. But most of them are not really focused. Not on the training, anyway.
I can feel the attention like heat on my skin. Subtle glances are cast my way, heads tilted ever so slightly to catch my voice. They want to hear what I have to say. And I am going to give them exactly what they are looking for.
“Did you hear?” I say, just loud enough to be overheard by the nearest cluster of warriors and trainees, who suddenly find the floor beneath their feet very interesting. “Our mighty Luna couldn’t even keep her temper last night. Throwing things? Screaming matches? The baby was crying?”
There is a ripple of movement as the words land.
I am going to rip out more words about her being an unfit mother.
One of the younger warriors, barely out of his trial year, frowns. “I thought Alphas were supposed to… I don’t know. Control their emotions?”
I turn to him slowly, letting my smile stretch, sharp and knowing. “Exactly. A true Alpha doesn’t lose control. Not in front of the pack. Not in front of the enemy.” I pause just long enough to let that sink in. “And certainly not in front of her child.”
“Imagine what our rivals would do if they knew how unstable she really is.”
That hits. I watch it ripple through them—the unease, the flicker of doubt. It is subtle, like the first crack in a dam. And I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too broadly.
Doubt is a disease. Infectious. And I have just contaminated the room.
That is just the beginning.
I spend the rest of the day slipping through the compound like a shadow, planting seeds of rot wherever I go.
In the kitchens, I lean against the prep table while the staff chops roots for stew.
“Poor Lucian,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “Must be exhausting trying to raise a child and keep Talia from burning the house down. I hear she nearly blew a fuse over a dropped bottle.” I lean in, whispering with faux concern. “She’s not sleeping. Not thinking clearly. What if she does something worse next time?”
They do not argue. Just exchange nervous glances over their blades.
At the supply storage, where older sentinels inspect weapons and ration logs, I let my tone grow colder.
“Back in the old days,” I say, shaking my head like I miss them, “an Alpha who couldn’t manage her own emotions would’ve been challenged. For the safety of the pack.”
A grizzled wolf named Thorne snorts, but does not contradict me. His silence is enough.
With the young omegas, it is even easier.
They flock to me like pups to warmth, eager for gossip, for validation. They have heard the rumors already. I just have to twist the knife.
“Do you really think she can protect us?” I ask softly, tilting my head like I am genuinely curious. “She can’t even protect her mate. He’s the one always holding the pieces together.”
Some are skeptical at first. But repetition is powerful.
By the third whisper, even the most loyal have started looking over their shoulders when Talia’s name comes up. Conversations stop when her advisors pass by. Even the guards exchange glances now.
The cracks are spreading.
When the sky begins to turn gold with dusk, I slip into the back hall that leads to the old meeting chamber—the one where omegas used to gather before Luna Talia disbanded half the rituals. Claimed they were “archaic.”
Cade waits for me inside, leaning against the massive oak table like he belongs there, arms crossed, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“There’s my favorite little serpent,” he drawls, pushing off the table and walking toward me. He cups my face and kisses my cheeks, one, then the other. “You’ve done well. The pack’s starting to question her leadership.”
I feel a rush of pride at the praise, warm and dangerous. He sees me. He believes in what I can be.
“They’re afraid,” he adds with a glint in his eye. “Fear is good. Fear makes them desperate. And desperate wolves make mistakes.”
He circles me slowly, like a predator assessing a prize, his steps echoing on the old stone floor.
My fingers tap against the table restlessly. “What’s next?” I ask, eyes fixed on the dark wood. “When do we strike?”
He stops behind me. I feel his fingers lift my chin with deceptive gentleness, turning me to face him.
“Patience,” he murmurs, eyes glinting. “Let the cracks widen first. Let them question. Let them doubt. When they believe she’s a threat to the pack—they’ll beg for someone else to take her place.”
My heart pounds, adrenaline lacing with something darker.
He smiles like he can hear the hunger in my thoughts. “Do you want it, Rhea? Power?”
The question lights something inside me. I do not even hesitate.
“Yes,” I breathe. My voice feels like it belongs to someone new. Someone forged in shadow and ambition.
His smile sharpens. It is not affection. It is approval. Reverence.
“Then help me destroy her,” he says. “Completely. You will be made beta female by my side.”
The image dances behind my eyes—me, walking through the halls with wolves bowing their heads. Me, giving orders that are followed without hesitation. Me, finally standing where I am always meant to be.
His voice drops, silk wrapped around steel. “How far are you willing to go, Rhea?”
I meet his gaze, steady. Cold. Honest.
A smile curves my lips, smug and poisonous. Because this is it.
I have watched Talia rise.
Now, I will watch her fall.
And I will make sure there is nothing left to salvage.
