Chapter Ten: Kiss the Snake
526 Words
The painkillers dull the worst of it.
Yelena stitched me up in silence. Kael stood outside the infirmary, pacing like a beast trapped in a too-small cage. No one said it aloud—but we all knew what that attack meant.
Someone from inside the packhouse gave them access.
Someone close.
And I’m done waiting to be hunted.
It’s my turn.
That night, while Kael is off interrogating the survivors, I slip from the room. My stitches tug, but I welcome the pain. It sharpens my focus.
The black dress I choose isn’t by accident.
It’s slit up one leg, low across the back. Kael had it sent up days ago—likely meant for some ball or council appearance I’ve yet to attend. But tonight, it’s a weapon.
Because I know exactly who to target.
Dorian.
Beta of the pack.
Always watching me. Always too polite. Too quiet. Too interested.
I find him in the wine cellar—alone, sipping something red like blood.
His eyes widen slightly when he sees me.
“You’re not supposed to be out of bed,” he says.
“I’m not supposed to be a lot of things,” I purr, stepping into the shadows with him.
He smiles—cool, calculating. “You’re bold tonight.”
“Almost dying makes you brave.”
I trail my fingers along the stone wall beside him. Not touching him. Not yet. “It makes you realize who might want you dead.”
“And you think that’s me?”
“I think you know who it is,” I whisper, moving closer. “And I think you’ve been waiting for me to come ask.”
He downs his wine in a slow sip.
“Kael wouldn’t approve,” he murmurs.
“Kael isn’t here.”
Silence crackles between us. I step into his space.
He doesn’t move away.
I reach up, brushing my hand down the front of his shirt, pausing over his heart.
“I want the truth,” I say. “You want something too. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”
He catches my wrist.
Strong. But not unkind.
“You’re dangerous, little Luna,” he murmurs.
“No,” I whisper. “I’m just tired of pretending I’m weak.”
He studies me.
Then… leans in.
His lips brush my ear. “Ask me your question.”
I don’t flinch. “Who sent the assassin?”
He’s silent a moment. Then: “Not me. But I know who benefits if you die.”
“Tell me.”
He smiles—sharp and wolfish. “Kael’s council doesn’t want a mate. They want a weapon. And you, my dear, make him soft. That makes you a threat.”
I step back.
But he grabs my hand again—gently this time.
“I didn’t betray him,” he says. “But if you keep chasing ghosts in Kael’s name… they’ll come for you again. And next time, they won’t miss.”
“Then I’ll be ready.”
I leave him there.
Breath tight. Skin burning.
I don’t know what game I’ve started…
But I won’t be played again.
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- Writer
