Something Rotten
1413 Words
Isabella's POV
He looks at her like she’s something holy. Raphael.
He doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. Not really.
I watch him—every time she’s dragged through the halls, hair plastered to her face, dirt on her knees, eyes dead but mouth still silent. He always glances. Just a flicker. But it’s enough.
And I see red.
She doesn’t even do anything. Just survives. Like a cockroach. Like a parasite in the walls. Still breathing when everyone hoped she’d rot in that storeroom.
How is she still alive?
How?
It was supposed to break her. No food. No water. I told them to make it hurt. And yet—she walks. Limping, hunched, death in her eyes, but walking.
I even heard she smirked.
That little b***h.
“Isabella?”
I blink. Eva stands in front of me, holding folded linens like a shield.
“What?” I snap.
She flinches. “You said to tell you when the servants brought her out again.”
“And?”
“They just did. She’s cleaning near the front stairs.”
I don’t answer. I just turn and walk—Fast—Heels clicking against the stone like teeth snapping.
I need to see it myself.
There she is. Bent over, scrubbing. Like a painting someone tried to burn but it refuses to catch fire. The hem of her dress is torn. One sleeve gone. She looks thinner than I remember.
And still, somehow, she looks alive.
Bile rises in my throat.
One of the guards near the stairwell nods, eager to look useful. I ignore him.
She doesn’t lift her head when I pass. Not even when I stop.
I want her to. I want to see those stubborn eyes again so I can rip them out.
But she keeps her head down.
Coward.
Or maybe clever.
Either way, she won’t be breathing much longer.
Not if I can help it.
---
He’s distracted. Raphael.
Busy with the pack summit. Wolves from the North coming in tonight. There’s chaos in the kitchens. Guards double-shifted. Rooms being cleaned top to bottom like we don’t live in a constant mess of blood and fur.
Good. Chaos is useful.
I pull Maren aside behind the pantry. She’s old, quiet, and smart enough to keep her mouth shut when she’s paid.
“I need a favor,” I whisper.
She looks nervous. “Is this about her?”
Of course it is. “She’s in the storeroom again tonight. You’ll bring her food like before. Just one meal. Bread. Maybe a pear if there’s time.”
Maren’s hands tremble. “Alpha said—”
“I’m not asking,” I cut in, my voice low and sharp. “You’ll do it. You’ll bring the tray. And you’ll put this in the bread.”
I slip a small pouch into her apron. Pale dust. No smell. Deadly in high doses. Miserable in small ones.
Maren stares at it like it’s alive. “What will it do?”
“If we’re lucky?” I smile. “It’ll end her.”
“And if not?”
“She’ll wish it had.”
She hesitates. “Does he know?”
“Would he stop me if he did?”
Maren swallows hard but doesn’t answer. Smart woman.
“Tonight. After sundown,” I say. “No witnesses.”
She nods once.
Good.
---
I don’t sleep.
I sit by the window, counting the carriages arriving through the gates. Wolves in fine coats. Heels clicking. Fur shining. Politics dripping from every fake smile.
They won’t notice one dead girl in a locked storeroom.
She’s just a stain to clean.
One last scrub.
---
Later, I find Maren in the corridor. She’s pale. Hands empty.
“Well?”
“I gave it to her,” she says. Voice tight. “She took it. Ate slow. Like she knew.”
“Did she say anything?”
Maren shakes her head. “She just looked at me. Like she was already gone.”
I nod once. “Good.”
But my gut twists.
What if she doesn’t die?
What if she lives again?
What if she crawls out of this too—like she always does?
Moon Goddess help us if she does.
Because next time, she won’t just be surviving.
She’ll be ready to fight.
---
The knock comes just after dusk.
Three taps.
Not Maren.
I open the door to my private quarters, half-expecting a servant with a spilled excuse or another delayed wine shipment. Instead, it’s Theo—the young wolf with the too-soft voice and not enough spine.
He bows. “Apologies, my lady. The girl…”
“What?” My stomach tightens.
“She’s… missing.”
I stare.
“She was gone when they opened the storeroom this morning.”
“Gone?” I repeat.
He nods, eyes skittering away from mine. “There was no trace. The tray was still there, mostly empty. No blood. No mess. Just… empty.”
Silence crackles between us. I want to slap him. Shake him. Bite his throat out. But I don’t. I just smile.
“Well,” I murmur. “That’s inconvenient.”
He swallows hard.
“Double the guards. Lock down the western wing. If she’s hiding somewhere, I want her dragged out by her hair.”
Theo hesitates. “Should I alert the Alpha?”
“No,” I snap. “You’ll do what I said. Quietly.”
He nods too fast and scurries away.
Missing.
Again.
How? How does this girl keep slipping through cracks that don’t exist?
She’s a worm. A weed. A curse that won't die.
---
By midnight, they still haven’t found her.
I pace circles in my chamber, glass untouched. My claws twitching against the velvet hem of my sleeve.
What if she ran?
No. She couldn’t have gone far. Not with poison in her veins. Not with ribs jutting through her skin and eyes sunk deep like death itself.
Unless…
I freeze.
Unless someone helped her.
---
Morning breaks, and I descend to the hall, eyes peeled. Everyone is already moving—servants bustling, guards on edge, the scent of foreign wolves thick in the air. Raphael stands near the hearth, deep in council with two Alphas from the Red Hills. He’s frowning, voice low and firm.
I move past him like smoke.
There’s one person I haven’t seen yet.
Maren.
Where is she?
I search the kitchens. Nothing.
The cellar. Empty.
The east corridor near the linen cupboards. Not even a trace.
“She’s gone,” one of the younger maids stammers when I ask. “Didn’t show for duty this morning.”
I stare at her. The girl fidgets under my gaze.
“She’s never missed a shift in twenty years,” I whisper.
Don't ask me how I knew about it.
Because I investigate every single one in this pack to have advantage over everyone. If I didn’t do that how will I become their Luna.
And then I know.
The girl didn’t run.
Maren did.
She helped her.
The pear. The tray. The timing.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw cracks.
This wasn’t survival.
This was a plan.
And that means someone else is playing a game I didn’t see.
---
I corner Theo near the back stairs, shoving him against the stone.
“You said she vanished,” I hiss. “But you didn’t tell me about Maren.”
His eyes widen. “I—I didn’t know she was gone too—”
“Liar.”
“I swear!”
I press my claws to his neck. Not breaking skin. Not yet.
“If you find her,” I breathe, “you bring her to me. Alive. I’ll deal with her myself.”
He nods.
“And the girl,” I add. “Next time you see her—don’t blink. Don’t breathe. Just take her down.”
He nods again, too fast, and bolts the moment I release him.
I watch him go.
This isn’t over.
This is just beginning.
She thinks she can run?
Let her.
I’ll burn down every hiding place she crawls into. I’ll salt the earth behind her. I’ll tear the wings off anyone who lifts her up again.
Let her live.
Let her fight.
I want to be there when she breaks for real.
Because this time?
This time, I’ll be smiling when I crush her for good.
- Writer
