AURORA POV

I sighed, my whole body sagging with weariness as I pressed my back against the cold stone wall. My skin looked pale, drained, and my limbs felt heavy with frustration.

I had been locked up in the pack’s basement for a week, and still, there was no word from Alpha Manuel or his mother. They truly believed I had killed my sister just to take her place.

I couldn’t prove my innocence. Every piece of evidence pointed straight at me,and the worst part? I had been too drunk that night of the ceremony to remember what happened which made me question myself.

What if I really was the one who killed her…?

The thought alone sent chills down my spine. No, I wouldn't. I couldn’t kill my own sister even though I had slight hatred over here.

“Just admit it. You killed her,” scoffed the woman sitting on the filthy floor beside me.

Ria. My irritating prison mate. She had been on my nerves since I was locked up with her, she was constantly insisting I had murdered Laura just because we never got along.

I rolled my eyes and groaned. “I am not a murderer like you.”

She chuckled, stretching her legs and cracking her neck lazily. “I only did what was right. He was my mate. He shouldn’t have cheated on me if he wanted to stay alive.”

My brows furrowed. I stared at her with both disgust and disbelief, then shook my head slowly.

“If you’re so sure you didn’t do it, then do you know anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt Laura?” Probably had a thing for witches, and attacked her instead of you, knowing you two are the only witches in this pack.” She said,

I shook my head again, this time more calmly. “No. I don't know of anyone that will try to do that to her. Laura was loved by everyone. Even our parents picked her over me. Everyone at the pack’s hospital adored her because she was sweet, cheerful… Who would want to hurt her?”

“You,” Ria said plainly.

I glared at her. “No. I wouldn’t. Sure, we didn’t get along. I’ll admit, I hated her for some time while growing up. But I got over it. I know nobody believes me when I say she wasn’t exactly kind to me. She acted like I had ruined her life just by existing. I didn’t ask to be her twin, and we didn’t even look that much alike, so why did she treat me like a mistake?”

Ria tilted her head, her voice softer now. “I don’t know if I should believe you or not… But your sister was an angel. I remember the last time I saw her, she came down here to treat one of the prisoners. Weird, really, coming all the way to the basement for a minor injury.” She scoffed. “Werewolves are getting weak. They should be able to heal themselves without anyone from the hospital.”

“But… Why was her dress with me?” I asked, more to myself than her. “Laura would never let me touch her clothes.”

“You probably loved it and decided to keep it,” Ria muttered.

“If I killed her, why would I keep the dress with me? That’s just stupid. It doesn’t make sense. It’s clear I didn’t do it.”

“You were drunk that night. Anything can happen,” she replied indifferently. “You had a fight with her the night of the coronation.”

I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing my aching temple. “It wasn't a fight, we exchanged words we shouldn't have and clearly didn't mean”

Ria chuckled. “You said you would kill her before she does.”

“I shouldn't have attended her coronation.” I sighed deeply.

After some minutes of silence, Ria said grimly.“By noon tomorrow, we’ll both be sentenced to death. If no one finds the real killer, you will take the fall,”

“Laura didn’t deserve to die like that… and I don’t deserve to take the blame,” I said, my voice cracking. “Whoever did this, maybe they meant to kill me. Maybe Laura was just a mistake. And now they’re trying to pin it all on me.”

“How’s that even possible?” Ria raised an eyebrow. “You two aren’t even identical.”

“I need to get out of here,” I said, voice firming. “I have to find out who did this. They should be in here…not me.”

Ria snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Just let it go. No one’s going to believe a word you say.”

Before I could reply, the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor. A prison guard approached our cell and began unlocking it.

Alarmed, I scrambled to my feet. “What’s going on?” I asked, though no one answered.

The cell door creaked open, and the guard stepped inside with a stern face. He grabbed my wrist tightly.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, dragging me out of the cell without giving me a chance to protest.

My stomach knotted as the car rolled to a stop in front of Laura's house.

I hadn’t asked any questions while I was in the car, I wouldn’t dare. I knew better than to speak. They could have hurt me if I did because they all see me as a murderer.

One of the two men in the car stepped out and slammed the door shut behind him. The sound made me flinch. He opened the back seat and yanked the door wide with a jerk that sent cold air rushing in. Before I could move, his hand gripped my arm like iron and hauled me out.

I stumbled, barely catching myself before falling, but he didn’t slow. He dragged me up the front steps and through the front door like I was no more than a sack of grain. No one told me why I was here. No one offered a word of comfort or explanation.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of old wood and something metallic. My feet scuffed against worn floorboards as we climbed, higher and higher, until we reached the attic.

The room was dim. Shadows stretched along the walls, and a single figure stood tall and unmoving in front of the window, his broad frame eclipsing what little light seeped in.

“Alpha Manuel. She’s here,” the man beside me said, letting go of my arm with a dismissive grunt.

I barely registered the release. My heart hammered too loud in my ears.

Alpha Manuel?

Why was he here?

I lowered my gaze instantly. I didn’t dare look at him. My hands trembled at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.

After what happened between the two of us, I feared this day would come again where I would be summoned to stand in front of one of the most feared Alphas in the werewolf clans. Cold. Unforgiving. Ruthless. A man who didn’t tolerate weakness,and never waited for explanations.

If he thought I killed my sister… This might be my last day on earth.

“Leave us,” his voice cut through the silence, sharp, cold, commanding.

The man obeyed immediately, his footsteps fading as he descended the stairs. Then, nothing. Just me, and the weight of Alpha Manuel’s presence pressing down like an invisible hand on my throat.

I was alone with a monster cloaked in skin.

“Step forward,” he commanded, his voice smooth but icy.

I flinched at the sound. My knees wobbled as I took a slow, shaky breath. My legs felt like water, but I forced them to move. One step. Another. Then one more. Each one felt like a lifetime.

He moved too, stepping away from the window, letting a sliver of light reveal him.

Even in the dimness, I felt his stare slicing through me.

“Raise your head and take a look at this,” he said.

There was a bite in his tone now, controlled anger wrapped in authority. My chest tightened.

I hesitated.

My fingers twitched at my sides as I slowly lifted my chin.

I saw the scattered papers spread across the desk, the pages worn and marked with symbols I didn’t recognize at first glance. Ancient words were scribbled in thick, uneven strokes. As soon as I looked closer, I knew what they were, spells and enchantments.

“They belonged to Laura. Do you know what she used them for?” Alpha Manuel asked, his voice calm but edged with suspicion.

I stepped closer, my eyes scanned the papers again, this time slower. And then it hit me,these weren’t ordinary spells. They didn’t follow the common patterns practiced by witches.

“These… these are sorcery spells,” I said quietly, my throat tightening. “Black magic.”

Alpha Manuel remained still, watching me intently.

I took a deep breath and continued. “From the stories I’ve heard, these spells were banned long ago because of how dangerous they are. Sorcery twists the natural order. It’s not just forbidden,it’s feared.”

“Do you know why Laura had them?” he asked.

I shook my head slowly, guilt and confusion weighing heavily in my chest. “No. I had no idea she was involved with anything like this.”

He looked down at the desk, his expression unreadable, then picked up a worn sheet. He held it out to me, his fingers brushing the edge of the paper.

“What does this symbol mean?” he asked, pointing to a bold, twisted mark at the center of the page.

A ritual cycle