Chapter 3: Their True Faces
1978 Words
Zenesha
I turned to Wallace and Deidre with a soft, polite smile. The kind I used to wear all the time—pleasing, measured, gentle. Not too sharp, not too dull. Just enough to make them think they still knew me.
Deidre blinked, her lips parting slightly before she managed to speak.
“Reclaim?” she asked, her voice a little shaky beneath the forced confidence. “What exactly do you mean, Zene?”
She tried to steady her tone, but I caught the flicker in her eyes—the twitch of uncertainty behind that fake poise.
Yeah. She knew exactly what I meant. But I wanted her to say it aloud.
I leaned in just a bit, close enough for only her to hear.
“Oh, you know,” I said, real low, real slow. “The things that were never yours to keep.”
Then I pulled back and shot her a smile—cool, casual, like we were just chatting over coffee. But my eyes didn’t lie. I meant every damn word.
Her jaw tightened, and for a second, she forgot to blink.
I turned away like I was done—but only for a breath.
“Funny, isn’t it?” I added without looking back. “How some people confuse holding onto something... with actually owning it.”
I heard the sharp exhale through her nose. Heard her nails tap against the counter like she wanted to claw her way out of the conversation but couldn’t find the nerve.
I poured myself a glass of water, took a slow sip, then set it down with a soft clink that somehow still felt like a warning.
“This pack,” I said, finally turning back to her with a calm shrug, “was never built for cowards hiding behind someone else's power.”
There was a silence between us. Heavy and unmoving. The kind that crept into your bones and dared you to speak first.
Neither did Deidre.
She just stood there, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes flickering like she was trying to decide whether to argue or run.
I cleared my throat, slow and deliberate, like I was done entertaining the charade.
Then I stood up, chair scraping lightly against the floor. Letting the tension hang while I gave her one last look.
"Well then, excuse me,” I said under my breath, brushing an invisible thread off my sleeve. “It’s been a while… I want to walk around and take it all in.”
Wallace gave me a tight nod, though he was clearly still reeling from my presence. Deidre just stood there, stiff as a board, clutching whatever dignity she could gather from the floor.
Neither of them questioned me. Good. They never did, back then.
I turned and walked down the hallway. I passed the parlor, the old study, and the side corridor where I once memorized every creak on the floorboards as a luna in the pack. It was all still here—just older, dustier, smaller than I remembered.
But of course, walking around was never the real plan.
Once I was sure I was out of their line of sight, I doubled back quietly, slipping into the old alcove behind the eastern column—half-shadowed and perfect. From here, I had a clean angle. I could see the edge of the sitting room. And more importantly, I could hear them.
Their voices started up fast—just as I’d expected.
“What the hell was that?” Wallace whispered, his voice tight with nerves. “She didn’t even look at me when she said my name. It was like she was suspicious about me.”
“Yeah. She used to ask before doing anything and wait for you to speak first,” Deidre hissed, her voice low and sharp. “Back then, she barely raised her voice. Always looked down, always careful not to offend anyone. Meek and submissive. Like some damn shadow that followed orders without question.”
She paced a few steps, her nails digging into her palms.
“Did you see how calm she was? Like she wasn’t afraid of anything? She’s never looked at me like that before. That look—like I was some bug she hadn’t decided to crush yet.”
Wallace stayed silent, eyes narrowing as if replaying the same moment in his head.
“She’s not the same,” Deidre muttered. “Something happened out there. And whatever it was… it made her dangerous.”
“I know,” Wallace said, running a hand through his hair. “She was never like this. Never this… sharp.” He paused. “The council said she was handling a recon mission up north, which was something quiet. What the hell happened up there?”
There was a stretch of silence. I imagined the look on Deidre’s face—confused, maybe threatened.
“Do you think she knows?” she asked finally.
“About us?” Wallace scoffed under his breath. “I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything directly. But the way she talks—it's way more than that. She’s like watching. Listening. I can feel she’s planning something.”
“Should we do anything about it?” Deidre asked quietly.
Wallace hesitated.
“Not yet. Let’s see how she plays this first,” he muttered. “If she wants something, we’ll know soon enough. She didn’t come back empty-handed. Trust me, she came back with something.”
He wasn’t wrong. I had come back with something.
Just not what they expected.
And they’d see them soon enough.
“She’s hiding something,” Deidre said under her breath, her arms crossed tightly. “Did you see the look in her eyes? She’s not the same woman who left.”
“I know,” Wallace replied, voice low, sharp. “She’s colder. Calculated. Like she’s already five steps ahead of us.”
Deidre glanced toward the corridor I’d walked off into. “What if she came back with something from that mission? Something big enough to shake things up?”
Wallace’s jaw tightened. “Then we need to find out exactly what it is—before she decides to use it.”
“She won’t just hand it over. You know that.”
“I don’t need her to hand it over,” he said, and the edge in his tone made her blink. “I just need her to reveal it. One crack. One slip.”
Deidre hesitated. “She’s too guarded. You try to push, she’ll shut down. Or worse, strike first.”
“That’s why we don’t push. Not yet.” Wallace stepped closer, lowering his voice. “We watch and play along. She wants us to believe she’s just here to visit, to slip back into the old rhythm. Fine. Let her think we’re buying it.”
“And when we get the opening?”
“We take it. If what she brought back has value to the pack’s future—then it shouldn’t stay in her hands alone. It’s too risky.”
Deidre slowly nodded. “And if she resists?”
Wallace’s lips curled slightly. “Then we remind her where her loyalty lies. She left a soldier. But she returned… what? A rogue? A threat? We’ll decide once we know what she’s holding.”
He paused.
“I want you to dig. Quietly. Talk to anyone who might’ve had contact with her during the mission. Use your old ties in the North. She must’ve slipped somewhere—someone always does.”
“And if she didn’t?”
“Then she’s better at this game than I thought.” He ran a hand down his face. “Either way, we stay close. Smile. Pretend. And when she finally shows her hand…”
Deidre finished his sentence, eyes narrowing. “We play ours harder.”
“Now that’s the spirit,” came another voice, sharp as cracked glass wrapped in silk.
I didn’t need to peek to know who it was. Wallace’s mother—Lavinia. Regal. Cold. A woman who looked like she’d been carved from ice and ambition. Her heels clicked neatly into the scene, just as polished and poisonous as ever.
“I heard that… stray finally crawled her way back after three years of pretending to be useful,” she said, each word dipped in venom. “Where is she now? Hiding? Waiting for someone to notice her again?”
Deidre answered without missing a beat, her voice light. “She said she was going outside for some air.”
Lavinia scoffed. “Of course she did. Probably needed a moment to remember how to act like she belongs here. Not that she ever truly did. I still don’t understand why the Council allowed someone like her to serve in a high mission. She barely knew how to hold her head up like a proper Luna, let alone carry the pack’s future. Pathetic little charity case.”
A long pause. I could almost feel Deidre’s hesitation—then her voice dropped lower. “She’s… different now.”
Lavinia sniffed, unimpressed. “People like her always pretend to change. Until they crack again. Mark my words, she’ll be a liability just like she always was. We should’ve cut her loose long before Wallace ever laid eyes on her.”
Her voice sharpened. “I don’t care what kind of little tricks she brought back in her pocket. That girl is still a Raventhorn runt dressed up in borrowed pride.”
Deidre gave a tight smile and murmured, “If she cracks this time, I’ll make sure we’re the ones holding the pieces.”
Deidre gave a soft laugh, feigning humility. “Well, someone had to step up. Wallace’s shoulders were never meant to carry the weight alone, not with everything the pack's been dealing with. I just did what needed to be done.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then added with a touch of smugness, “Besides, I’ve always been close to him. Closer than most realized. It just felt… natural.”
That’s when Lavinia gave her that knowing smile, the kind that always felt like a backhanded compliment wrapped in velvet.
“Oh, Deidre, you’ve always been so quick on your feet. I swear, it’s no wonder you’ve been such a comfort to Wallace while Zenesha… wandered.”
Wandered? I nearly scoffed out loud.
Deidre giggled softly, in that rehearsed way women like her did when they needed to sound innocent.
“You’re too kind, Lady Lavinia.”
“No, dear. I’m honest.” Lavinia rested a hand on Deidre’s arm like they were bonded by blood, not betrayal. “You’ve brought light back into this house. Energy. Real grace. It’s refreshing, after all that tension Zenesha used to drag into a room.”
My jaw locked. I gritted my teeth so hard I could feel the pressure at the base of my skull.
It was one thing to hear Wallace’s lies. Another thing to know is that Deidre was playing along. But Lavinia? Lavinia knew. And she approved. The whole damn house knew. And they all stood there, praising the mistress like she’d won a prize, while I—the Luna, the one who sacrificed years for this pack—was just a shadow on the wall.
I cursed her under my breath. I cursed all of them.
They thought I was the fool in the dark, the broken one who’d come crawling back with nothing but a past and a fractured ego. They had no idea what I had really come home with. No idea who I had become.
They all thought they’d rewritten the story.
They were wrong.
This was still my house. And I’d reclaim it brick by brick if I had to.
- Writer
