The Alpha's Seeress

Chapter 15

Olivia Isla

"Do you really think the King will be merciful to you because you'll fulfill the prophecy?" Myrtle mocked, shoving me back into my room.

I never expected mercy from anyone here—not from the servants, and certainly not from the King. But I did what I had to, grasping at whatever small hope I could find, hoping it would at least buy me some time.

"I'm not desperate, Myrtle. I don't need their mercy," I shot back, though deep down, I knew it was a lie. The truth was, I needed their mercy. They were too powerful, and if I wanted to survive, I had no choice but to rely on whatever sliver of it they had left for me.

"Hypocrite!" she spat, before striking me again with a leash.

She had the upper hand in this place. I still didn’t fully understand her connection to the King, but I knew she wasn’t just a pawn. Her presence here, her control over my situation—it all pointed to something bigger. Why else would she be in a place like this, so close to power?

"What do you want from me, Myrtle?" I asked.

"Your downfall," she hissed. "And I'm going to enjoy every moment of it."

A sharp pain struck my heart. Myrtle and I had been friends for nearly four years. Did she always harbor this hatred toward me? Had she spent all that time wishing for my downfall? I knew I wasn’t perfect, that I had my flaws, but to wish such harm on someone—that was cruelty I couldn’t fathom.

"Have you always been like this?"

I had been so naive, so complacent. I never imagined someone so close to me could turn against me like this. My visions had shown me blurry images of betrayal and symbols I couldn’t quite decipher, so I dismissed them. Now, standing here in this nightmare, I regretted not heeding those warnings.

Myrtle’s smirk deepened. "What do you think, Olivia?"

The Myrtle I knew was far from perfect—she had her share of flaws, selfishness, anger, and pride. But there was good in her too, a balance of light and dark, just like any human. Who could’ve known she was capable of this level of cruelty?

"All those years, was it just a façade?" I asked.

She laughed, the sound sharp and filled with malice, as if I had told the most amusing joke. The craziness I had always sensed in her had now fully revealed itself, but this was something more.

“You really are dense, Olivia,” she sneered. "Everything was a game to me. Watching you—always so oblivious, so trusting—was the best part." She stepped closer. "You were never going to see it coming."

She said it so boldly, but I could sense a lie. She wasn’t telling me the whole truth. Maybe part of it was true, but I knew not all of it was. I started to wonder if Myrtle was a victim of the Walkers or if she was part of their family.

“You’re lying,” I said. “What’s really the truth? Tell me, I’d understand you.”

She rolled her eyes. When she looked at me, her gaze was filled with disdain, as if she was silently telling me how pathetic, naïve, and kind I was—too kind for my own good.

"You always play this card, Olivia. So desperate to believe everyone has a reason for their actions. Maybe I’m just bad, ever think of that? Maybe I just enjoy watching you suffer," she spat out.

Anger bubbled inside me. “You know what, Myrtle? I treated you like a friend for four years. I trusted you. I gave you my loyalty. And all you’ve done is stab me in the back! You act like you’re above it all, like none of it matters to you, but I see through you. You’re just as miserable as the rest of them.”

That hit a nerve. Her eyes flared with rage. “Shut up!” she shouted, raising her hand to strike me, the leash ready in her grip.

But this time, I wasn’t going to let her. I caught her wrist mid-swing, adrenaline surging through me. I pushed her back with all the strength I had left, sending her stumbling into the wall. Her head hit it with a sickening thud, and blood began to trickle down her forehead. She gasped, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch the wound, and when she pulled it away, her fingers were stained red.

"You—" she started, but she was too dazed to finish. I stared at her, my chest heaving, shocked at what I had done but unwilling to regret it.

It was her fault. She had lashed out at me more than once, both with her words and her hands. The betrayal she gave me wasn’t enough—she had to physically hurt me, too. I wasn’t going to allow that anymore.

The door to my room creaked open, and a few servants hurried in. When they saw Myrtle bleeding, their faces drained of color, as pale as snow. I could feel their fear, but when they looked at me, their expressions twisted with anger.

“What have you done to the Madam?” one of them shouted, rushing to Myrtle’s side.

Madam? The word caught me off guard. I wasn’t very familiar with how the werewolves’ realm operated or how status and rankings worked here, but if they were calling Myrtle “Madam,” she was clearly of high standing. She wasn’t just some omega—that much was clear. But what was she, really?

I had always assumed she was just like me, someone on the fringes trying to find her place. But now, standing here in this room with servants tending to her like she was royalty, I realized I had no idea who she truly was. The Myrtle I thought I knew had been hiding something far bigger than I ever imagined.

“She attacked me first,” I said. “I just defended myself.”

The servants didn’t respond. They were too busy wrapping a cloth around Myrtle’s head, murmuring things I couldn’t make out. I felt like an outsider, a trespasser in their world, more so now than ever before.

One of the servants finally spoke. “You’ll pay for this. You don’t touch the King’s kin and walk away unscathed.”

The King’s kin? My heart sank. So, that’s it. Myrtle was connected to the King, and I had just crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.

I sat on my bed, trying to make sense of everything swirling around me. My head throbbed, and for the first time in days, a faint vision flashed before my eyes. It wasn’t a scene, but a color—red. My heart pounded as I realized what it signified. War.

The vision was unclear, like a faded, vintage film, the details obscured by time. I couldn’t see faces or locations, but the feeling of impending doom clung to me. Which pack could it be? My mind wandered, almost settling on an answer, but I pushed it aside. It couldn’t be.

I fell asleep, thoughts of the vision tugging at the edges of my mind. When morning came, I was shaken awake by two men cloaked in black. A chill ran down my spine, and reality hit me hard. Myrtle. What I’d done last night.

Am I going to be punished now?

The men said nothing, their faces obscured by the hoods of their cloaks. I could only hear the soft shuffle of their footsteps as they gestured for me to follow. I had no choice.

We walked through narrow hallways, dimly lit by flickering candles. My mind raced with possibilities—torture, confinement, or worse. But the most terrifying thought was what would happen if Myrtle had told them everything. Would the King show me any mercy, or was I already doomed?