The Mate Switch

CHAPTER 7.

It didn’t take long for Giselle to locate Luna Iris. It also didn’t take long for the Luna to plant a slap on her cheek.

Giselle cursed mentally, feeling the urge to put the b***h in her place now more than ever. She had to recite her mantra twice as fast to keep her temper at bay.

Once I reveal who I am, I’ll make sure she suffers the most. She and that imbecile she calls a son.

In times like this, it was her internal dialogue tha kept her going. That and remembering the state she’d found her sister in.

It was like staring at her own reflection, desperately slinging for life. The sight not only repulsed her, but had her terrified in more ways than one.

With a red, hot cheek, she resumed her duties. Scrubbing, washing, cleaning like a peasant, while everyone else walked majestically around the packhouse, paying her no attention. It was almost like she didn’t exist.

It was her one and only super power in this despicable pack.

Fortunately, it did not go to waste. About forty minutes into cleaning, two other pack members walked into the kitchen, barely noticing her. They headed straight for the fridge, pausing to talk in between gulping a bottle of water each.

“Did you hear what happened in the courtyard?” a petite looking blonde said, trying to be as quiet as possible, except her voice was too squeaky not to be heard.

Also, werewolf hearing.

Giselle crouched lower in a corner, halting what she was doing so she wouldn’t be discovered eavesdropping.

“Yeah,” the other girl responded—a taller, busty brunette with a mousey kind of face that surprisingly made her kind of cute. “I can’t believe Kellan and the rest. They went too far.”

Giselle bit her bottom lip, surprised. Maybe everyone in Darkhowl wasn’t was bad as she thought.

“Right? Who’s going to do the work around here if she’s badly injured or dead?” the tiny one huffed in annoyance. “Couldn’t they have controlled themselves even a little? Beat her. Don’t murder her.”

Nope. Giselle seethed in anger. Spoke too soon.

They all deserved to burn. What kind of training and education did Darkhowl provide its pack members if the teenagers had zero to no empathy?

“Just because he’s the beta’s son does not mean he can do whatever he wants,” the smaller girl continued. “And Tobias and Mira just follow him around, taking orders like lost puppies.”

“I’m not sure if they’re the ones doing the following,” the mousey girl chipped in. “To be honest, I’m not quite certain there’s a leader in that dynamic. All three of them are related to important people, they basically do whatever they want around here.”

“Well, someone needs to talk some sense into them.”

“Are you gonna do it?”

Having heard enough, Giselle decided to announce her presence by clearing her throat and getting up from her knees. Stunned, the two younger girls whipped their head in her directed so fast, their expressions turning pale.

They provided no explanation or remorse—not that Giselle expected them too—before quickly exiting the kitchen.

Now alone, her fingers curled into her palms, struggling to tame her claws, she told herself she wouldn’t have to do this for long. Soon, it would all be over.

At least now she knew Kellan was the son of the beta of Darkhowl. Her vengeance just kept getting more and more exciting.

Giselle stayed where she was for several seconds after the kitchen fell silent, her breathing shallow, controlled. Rage sat heavy in her chest. Her wolf prowled restlessly beneath her skin, hackles raised, teeth bared, echoing her thoughts with feral clarity.

Beat her. Don’t murder her. The words replayed over and over, each repetition carving deeper.

That had been Gloria’s life. Not a tragedy or an accident. Merely an inconvenience. Labor lost if she died. Floors left unswept, plates unwashed.

Giselle pressed a hand flat to the counter until the stone bit into her palm. Pain grounded her, kept her in the moment.

Soon, she promised herself again. Soon.

She finished the last of the scrubbing mechanically, moving like the invisible thing they all believed her to be. When she was sure no one was around, she slipped out of the kitchen and down the narrow servants’ corridor, pulling the burner phone from the hidden pocket in her skirt.

Her thumb quickly found the number she’d been searching for, dialing hastily, biting her fingers nervously as it rang.

“Gigi.” The sound of Beta Louis’s voice nearly undid her.

“How is she?” she asked immediately, not bothering with pleasantries. Her voice stayed steady through sheer force of will.

Her uncle did not respond for a while. Her heart sank as she braced for what was to come.

“No change,” Louis said gently. “She’s stable, but she hasn’t woken. Still no response to stimuli.”

Giselle squeezed her eyes shut, the corridor blurring in seconds. “Is she—” Her throat tightened. “Is she in pain?”

“We’re managing it,” he said. “But Giselle… this isn’t sustainable. You’ve been gone too long. If something happens to you—”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” she snapped. Then she exhaled, speaking softer. “I’m close. I can feel it.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“And the day before,” she agreed. “I won’t leave until I’ve done what I came here to do.”

Louis sighed heavily. “You’re not thinking clearly. Revenge won’t heal her.”

“No,” Giselle said quietly. “But I sure as hell will enjoy it.”

There was silence on the other end. Then, weary and defeated, Louis came on again, “At least promise you’ll be careful.”

Giselle almost laughed. Careful had left the building the day she found Gloria bleeding out in the woods.

“I’ll call again tonight,” she said instead, and ended the call before he could argue.

She tucked the phone away and straightened her shoulders, slipping back into character as easily as breathing. Head down, she took light steps, her sense of presence erased.

By the time she reached the dining hall, the Alpha and his family were already seated. Including Enrique.

Her chest tightened traitorously at the sight of him. He sat two seats away from Alpha Fredrick, his posture relaxed but his eyes empty. He looked out of place in their midst.

Giselle forced herself to look away. Focus, she told herself. They matter. He doesn’t.

But her wolf stirred anyway, pulling her attention back no matter how hard she fought it. The bond tingled, an electrical wave she refused to acknowledge.

She took her place along the wall with the other servants—neither of them as mistreated as she, or rather, Gloria—and began serving.

The silence did not last long as Luna Iris’s sole purpose in life was to make her as miserable as possible. Any chance she got. The vile woman found fault in everything.

“Too slow,” she barked, giving her a dirty look. “That plate is chipped.”

Giselle increased her pace, replacing the ceramic, even though she couldn’t find any flaw. But nothing she did was ever enough.

“Are you blind? I said warm bread.”

“Yes, Luna,” Giselle murmured each time, her hands steady despite the burn behind her eyes. She wasn’t even the one who served the bread, but somehow, it was her fault.

She felt Enrique’s gaze on her like heat, or maybe the room had suddenly gone warmer. He didn’t say her name or openly interfere.

But when Luna Iris sniffed and sneered, “Some people are just born incompetent.”

Enrique finally spoke. “Mmm,” he said mildly. “Funny. I don’t remember seeing you scrub a floor even once.”

The table went still. Giselle froze, her heart slamming against her ribcage.

Luna Iris turned slowly with a sharp smile. “Excuse me?”

Enrique lifted his glass, unfazed. “I’m just saying. Criticism hits different when it comes from someone who’s actually worked.”

Alpha Fredrick cleared his throat, Elias stiffened, and Celeste’s eyes narrowed, flicking briefly to Giselle before returning to Enrique.

Luna Iris’s smile tightened. “You’re a guest.”

“And you’re loud,” Enrique replied calmly. “Besides, we both know I’m not really a guest.”

Giselle had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She kept her head down, finished serving, and retreated before anyone could order her back.

The rest of the meal passed in strained silence.

In the kitchen afterward, as she scrubbed plates, her thoughts turned dark. It would have been easy. A little crushed nightshade, a splash of venom. It could have been labeled an accident.

Her wolf purred at the idea, pleased. Then Enrique’s face intruded unbidden. The way he’d looked at her earlier, the thought of him carrying her from the courtyard to safety.

She took a deep breath as her legs weakened. “No,” she whispered. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

She finished cleaning and headed for the servants’ quarters, too exhausted to notice her surroundings.

Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed her wrist. Giselle barely had time to gasp before she was yanked sideways into a dark room, the door slamming shut behind her.