SARA'S POV
The sun hadn't even cracked the sky when I slipped into the kitchen and lit the first burner. The estate lay in silence, punctuated only by the soft footfalls of Omegas moving through distant halls like ghosts. I'd been careful—checking corners, pausing at intersections, making sure no one followed.
No one had seen me duck behind the garden apothecary yesterday, fingers trembling as I pinched a vial of wolfsbane from the green cabinet. The glass had felt cool against my palm as I'd tucked it into my sleeve. It was used by the healer for wicked cases of wolfsbane attack or poisoning but I had found good and quick use for it.
My hands moved with practiced precision as I worked. No humming. No unnecessary stirring. No wasted movements. I beat eggs until they frothed, folded in
