*Speaking of stupid things…” I leaned back in the plush booth. “What did you think of last night’s dinner party?”
Scarlett’s expression darkened immediately. “That Blair. Her behavior was beyond inappropriate. The hostility was practically radiating off her.
‘I was hoping I’d imagined it.”
“Trust me, you didn’t.” Scarlett leaned forward conspiratorially. “I did some digging today. About Blair’s background.”
My pulse quickened. “What kind of digging?”
She glanced around the bar, ensuring we weren’t overheard, then lowered her voice.
‘Blair Sterling. Real name Blair Thorne. Her mother was Marina Thorne – used to work as a maid at Blackwood Manor.”
I set down my glass. “A maid?”
“Years ago, someone tried to assassinate Caelan. Marina threw herself between them, took a blade meant for him.” Scarlett’s voice grew somber. “She died saving his life.”
‘So Caelan’s parents adopted her daughter out of gratitude?”
“That’s where it gets interesting. Scarlett’s green eyes glittered with something between excitement and concern. “According to palace gossip, Marina’s dying wish wasn’t just for Blair to be raised as family.”
My heart started beating faster. “What else?”
She made Katherine promise that Blair would marry Caelan when they came of age.”
The martini glass slipped in my suddenly nerveless fingers. “What?”
“No one knows if Katherine actually agreed to it, but Blair clearly believes it was a done deal.” Scarlett reached across to steady my drink. ‘In her mind, she’s not Caelan’s adopted sister. She’s his intended bride.”
The pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity.
That’s why she looked at me like I was stealing something that belonged to her.
She wasn’t protecting a brother. She was defending her claim to a husband.
I didn’t steal Caelan from her – I stole her entire future.
“Now you understand why she hates you, Scarlett said softly. “You’re not just the king’s fianc?e. You’re the woman who destroyed her dreams.
1 drained the rest of my martini in one burning gulp. “Wonderful. So I have a delusional woman living in the same house as my future husband.”
‘Delusional people are the most dangerous kind. Scarlett’s expression grew serious. “They have nothing left to lose.*
We spent the next hour dissecting every interaction from the dinner party, looking for signs I’d missed. By the time we ordered a second pitcher, the bar had filled with the late-night crowd.
“The question is, what do I do about it?”
‘Nothing yet.” Scarlett’s voice carried warning. “Don’t confront her directly. That’ll just make her more desperate.”
She leaned closer. “But watch your back. Women like Blair don’t give up easily.”
Want me to call a car?” Scarlett fumbled with her phone as a taxi pulled up to the curb.
“No, I’ll walk.” I waved her off. “My new place is only a few blocks away. Fresh air will clear my head.”
‘You sure? It’s pretty dark out there.”
‘I’ll be fine.”
Scarlett climbed into the taxi and rolled down the window. “Text me when you get home safely.”
I watched her taillights disappear around the corner, then started walking toward my apartment building.
The night air hit my flushed cheeks like a cool slap. I started walking, heels clicking against the cobblestones in a steady rhythm.
I’d made it two blocks when I realized my phone was dead. The screen remained black no matter how many times I pressed the power button.
I picked up my pace slightly, suddenly aware of how isolated I was.
That’s when I heard the footsteps.
At first, I thought it was coincidence. Another late-night walker heading in the same direction. But when I stopped to adjust my purse strap, the footsteps stopped too.
My pulse quickened.
I resumed walking, listening carefully. Sure enough, the second set of footsteps resumed as well. Same pace, same rhythm, maintaining a consistent distance behind me.
Someone’s following me.
1 tested my theory by deliberately slowing down. The footsteps slowed to match. When I sped up, they sped up too.
Fear crept up my spine like cold fingers.
I glanced around, looking for potential escape routes or safe havens. Most of the shops were closed, their windows dark. The street stretched ahead in a long, straight line with nowhere to hide.
Except…
An narrow alley opened between two buildings about fifty feet ahead. Barely wide enough for two people, with high walls on both sides. If I could get there first, I might be able to turn the tables on my pursuer.
I forced myself to maintain the same casual pace until I reached the alley mouth. Then I darted sideways into the shadows, pressing my back against the brick wall.
My heart hammered so loudly I was sure it would give me away. I held my breath, listening to the approaching footsteps.
They grew closer. Closer.
A figure appeared at the alley entrance.
From Sul
I pressed my back harder against the cold brick wall. “I don’t know what you want, but-“
The man moved faster than I expected. His right fist cut through the air toward my face.
I jerked my head sideways. His knuckles scraped the wall where my nose had been seconds before. Without thinking, I drove my knee upward toward his stomach.
He twisted, catching the blow on his forearm. The impact sent him stumbling backward two steps, but he recovered quickly.
My heart pounded against my ribs. This wasn’t some random drunk looking for trouble. His movements were too controlled, too precise.
He came at me again. I ducked under his reaching arms and struck out with my fist, aiming for his solar plexus. He blocked it, but barely.
I changed tactics. Speed. That was my only advantage against someone his size.
I jabbed at his throat. He deflected. I aimed for his kidney. He twisted away. Each strike was fast, targeted, meant to disable rather than overpower.
Three years ago, this would have been impossible.
The memory hit me mid-strike. When I’d first arrived in Moonridge, alone and vulnerable, the predators had circled like sharks. Drunk men cornering me outside the diner where I worked nights. The landlord suggesting “alternative payment methods” when rent was due. Even other wolves who thought a lone female was easy prey.
I’d been so naive. So helpless.
After the third incident – a man following me home from the hospital – I’d enrolled in a basic self-defense class. Just enough to break free and run.
Later, I’d trained harder. Combat training, strategy, pack warfare basics. Darrell had insisted his Luna needed to be capable of defending herself and others.
Ironic that the skills I learned to impress him are saving my life now.
My punch connected with the man’s temple. His head snapped sideways and he staggered, momentarily stunned.
I seized the opening. My right leg swept behind his knees while my hands shoved his chest.
He went down hard. The impact with the cobblestones forced a grunt from his throat.
I dropped to my knees beside him, pressing my forearm across his windpipe.
“Who sent you? Why are you following me?”
His eyes were alert despite the fall. No fear. He remained silent.
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