The guards threw me against the brick wall as soon as we arrived at our destination.

I didn’t know if it was a Bloodmoon custom to hurl people against hard bricks, but this was my second experience.

The woman, Killian’s mate, I realized, stepped from behind the guards and gripped my jaw, forcing my face close to hers. Her eyes pierced straight through me.

“You don’t belong here. You must think you’re a big deal since Sire Killian favors you. No wonder you didn’t show me respect,” she spat, each word dripping with anger.

“I only went there to ask about Sire Thorne’s whereabouts and Harry’s condition. I’m sorry, I didn’t know who you were or how to address you,” I mumbled, undeterred. I couldn’t understand why such a stunning woman would feel so threatened, as though her husband could be taken from her.

“Thorne?” Her furrowed brows softened for a fraction of a second before she burst into bitter laughter.

“You must really want death, and I will give it to you… peacefully.” She pressed her sharp claws against my chest as she emphasized the last word.

One of the guards whispered something in her ear, and her mood shifted immediately. I caught the word Killian, and nothing else, but it was enough.

“Must he be involved in activities? This is the She-Wolves’ quarters’ matter,” she groaned and slapped me across the face before storming out.

I thought my luck had run out, but perhaps there was still some left. At least she hadn’t reduced me to a pup, probably because Killian had his eyes on me.

After their tirade ended, I left the room and headed straight to the guards’ quarters. I wasn’t allowed to see Harry or even enter fully, but the guards briefed me on his condition.

Being a mistress came with certain privileges, even for someone they didn’t fully understand.

Harry was getting better. His wounds were healing, but he remained unconscious. I blamed myself for everything, his state, my reckless curiosity, the night I stepped out.

With every passing second, my frustration with Thorne grew. But I had nowhere else to turn. Harry was my only connection here. Killian wouldn’t tell me anything about Thorne, and neither would Lupa. I had no choice but to become a spy.

For the next two days, I observed and listened. I didn’t get caught, though I didn’t uncover much about Thorne beyond the fact that his uncle was the Alpha, and Killian was his cousin. The tension between them was thick enough to choke on.

They lived on the outskirts of Bloodmoon, far from the other wolves, isolated to protect their territory and train as future leaders.

Killian hadn’t summoned me in the past two days. He ran in and out of the mansion, probably running errands for his father.

On the third day, I woke early enough to join the maids’ gossip. They always had the best information. I dressed in a style like theirs and carried a bucket and rag.

Cleaning the grand, ornate living room with them, I listened to their chatter about guards they were flirting with and wolves they’d had one-night encounters with. Surprisingly, it felt… fun. I’d never had someone to talk to about anything. My parents died when I was young, I had no siblings, and everyone called me psychotic. No one wanted to be my friend.

“Is there anyone you have eyes for?” one maid asked, nudging me with a smile.

“Um… no, I don’t,” I stammered, unprepared for the question.

“You don’t have to be shy, I saw you smiling three eye-blinks ago. You must be thinking about him,” she teased, and the others giggled.

They knew nothing about me. This was probably the first time they’d noticed me, but it felt like being surrounded by long-time friends. I decided to play along.

“Okay… there’s one. But he’s wounded… Harry,” I whispered shyly.

Their giggles turned into excited squeals.

“In your dreams. Harry doesn’t notice anyone. He’s the star none of us can reach. But maybe, pray to the Moon Goddess—maybe someday he’ll look your way,” the first maid said, pity flickering in her eyes.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, nodding.

The conversation turned exactly where I needed it.

“Do you think Sire Killian will let Sire Thorne go this time? I mean, he hurt his beta. Harry doesn’t deserve that,” one maid whispered sharply.

“Shh! Lower your voice. We don’t want to be punished for talking about that devil,” another warned.

“I just want Harry to get better. I hope Sire Thorne never gets released,” I added, stirring the pot, drawing them in.

“Oh, dear, Harry will be fine. I can plead with Lupa to let you visit him in the guards’ quarters myself,” one offered.

“That would be nice, but I can’t see him in pain. I’ll wait until he’s awake,” I replied quickly. I couldn’t risk them learning who I really was.

“Oh, I hope Sire Thorne rots in the underground prison,” a maid nearby muttered bitterly, as if her life depended on it.

“Underground prison?” I finally found the clue I’d been searching for.

“Where is the underground prison?” I asked, sniffling and pretending to fight back tears.

“I don’t know the exact location, but it’s somewhere near the guards’ quarters. Don’t worry, he won’t be released anytime soon,” she replied, patting my back.

All that remained was to find the gate to the underground prison. And I would.

Next time I saw Thorne, I wouldn’t be weak. I wouldn’t beg for answers. I would decide his fate.

I would not be begging for answers; I would be the one deciding the course of events.

I was ready to turn the whole mansion upside down if that is what it takes to find Thorne.

It would be nice to see him in chains, I would give him the torment he had never experienced..

He had underestimated me, I’m the psychotic girl with no friends.

A small, dangerous smile crept across my lips.