Chapter 3

Her vision blurred with tears. She wanted to run, to get as far away from this place as possible—but her legs refused to move.

Then she heard it—footsteps. Slow, steady footsteps coming closer.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She flattened herself against the wall, barely daring to breathe.

“Do we wait for confirmation?” the second voice asked, still uncertain.

“No!" the first one snapped. “The order stands. Once the celebration ends… Catherine Vermont dies.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the panic rising in her throat. They had mentioned her name. She was sure the order was for her now.

She needed to escape.

The sound of footsteps grew louder—they were coming her way. Catherine spun around and stumbled down the hallway, her vision blurry with tears. She didn’t stop until she reached the servant’s quarters, her mind spinning.

No. It couldn’t be true. Damian wouldn’t… He wouldn’t order her death. Would he?

But the coldness in his eyes earlier flashed through her mind. The way he had announced Bianca as his future Luna after looking at her. The way he hadn’t cared.

The door to the kitchen creaked open, and an older woman stepped out—Madam Greta, one of the head cooks. She had always been kind to Catherine, offering her bits of warm bread and soft words when the other servants ignored her.

“Catherine?” Greta’s eyes widened when she saw her pale face and shaking hands. “Child, what’s wrong?”

Catherine opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Greta glanced around, then grabbed Catherine's arm and pulled her into the kitchen. She shut the door behind them and turned, her face serious. “Tell me.”

“I—I heard them,” Catherine whispered in a soft tone. “The guards. They said… they said there’s an order to kill me tonight.”

For a long moment, Greta just stared at her. Then, her face was filled with sorrow.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “You have to leave. Now.”

Catherine’s legs almost gave out. The fear was too much. “But… why?” she choked out. “Why would he do this to me?”

"I don’t know. But I do know this—if you stay, you won’t live to see the morning.”

The words hit her like a punch to the stomach. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.

Before Catherine could reply, Greta grabbed a small bag and began stuffing it with bread and cheese. “You’ll need strength,” she said. “And a coat. It’s cold out there.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Greta snapped, though her voice was gentle. “You listen to me, Catherine. The moment you step back into that hall, you’re dead. You need to run. Now.”

Catherine’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst. But she nodded, wiping her eyes.

Greta pressed the bag into her hands and hugged her tight. “Stay safe, child. And don’t ever come back.”

Before she could respond, there was a knock at the kitchen door.

“Alpha Damian has requested a glass of wine,” one of the maids announced as they stepped inside, holding out a glass filled with red wine.

Catherine swallowed hard. She couldn’t risk going back into the hall. She couldn’t risk seeing Damian’s face — the face of the man who had just ordered her death.

“I—I can’t go back there." she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.

The maids ignored her, stepping aside to allow her a clear path back to the grand hall.

She hesitated.

If she refused, they would report her. And then they would know she had found out.

She dropped the bag Greta had given her and forced her trembling fingers to wrap around the glass of wine, her heart pounding as she turned back toward the hall—her mind racing with one desperate plan.

She needed to escape.

Before it was too late.

The moment she stepped inside, her gaze locked onto Damian. He was standing with the elders, speaking with them. Bianca was beside him, her hands wrapped possessively around his arm. When she noticed Catherine, her expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes darkened.

The sight made Catherine’s stomach ache with pain, but she had no choice. She approached them slowly, her body still trembling. When she reached Damian, she lowered her gaze and held out the glass.

He turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers.

And then, just as he reached for the glass, his lips parted—as if he was about to tell her something important. But before he could say whatever he wanted to say—

Bianca quickly moved.

Her hand shot out, knocking the glass from Catherine’s hands before she could give it to him. The glass shattered against the floor, deep red wine splashing like blood across Catherine’s white dress.

Gasps filled the room.

Catherine blinked, frozen in shock.

Then Bianca turned to Damian, her face filled with extreme horror. “Catherine poisoned the wine, Alpha!” she screamed out, attracting the attention of everyone towards us.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The hall fell deathly silent.

All eyes turned to Catherine.

Her breath caught in her throat as she couldn't believe what Bianca had just screamed out. She would never poison Damian. She would never do anything to hurt him. He had to know that, right?

And then something happened that sent shivers down her spine—Damian took a step back in shock.

Catherine’s heart sank.

No... no, this couldn’t be happening.

He wasn’t supposed to believe Bianca.

Not like this.

Not without even looking at her.

Not without asking her anything.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Her hands trembled by her sides as she continued staring at him, hoping he was considering the fact that Bianca could be lying to him and everyone.

But the way he looked back at her... it wasn’t the same.

“Damian…” Catherine finally called out with tears in her eyes, her voice barely holding together. “You don’t believe her… do you?”

He didn’t answer at first.

But when he did, she wished he never answered.

“How could you…” he said, almost like he didn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth. “… do this to me?”

Catherine froze.

The room spun.

Everything inside her shattered.

He had believed Bianca's lies.