Dr.
Rulph leaned back, dabbing a towel against his temple.
“She certainly isn’t an ordinary wolf, but there’s no way to prove anything further while her wolf remains completely hidden.” Dronti’s eyes narrowed.
“Is it suppressed?
Is something masking her aura?” “No,” Rulph replied firmly, shaking his head.
“You can rule out wolfsbane or any standard chemical suppressants, my King.
My diagnostic scans would have detected a foreign compound immediately.” Dronti rested his knuckles on the wood of the desk, his jaw tightening.
“Then what is it?
I think we should—” A crisp knock cut him off before the door swung open.
Hannah stood on the threshold, clutching a plastic bucket in one hand and a mop in the other.
Her uniform was slightly rumpled, and her long, decorated acrylic nails clicked against the bucket handle.
Dronti’s expression flattened into immediate irritation.
“What do you want?” Hannah dipped her head, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.
“Sorry to interrupt, your Majesty.
I’m here to clean the study.” “Why wasn’t this done this morning?” Dronti asked, his voice cold and indifferent.
“Now isn’t the time.” “You approved my leave yourself this morning, King,” Hannah said softly, glancing up through her lashes.
“I had my university admission today.” A flicker of recollection crossed Dronti’s face.
He turned back toward the desk, dismissing the detail without another thought.
“Right.” He looked over at Rulph.
“I believe we’re done here.
I’ll speak with you later, Rulph.” Dronti had zero interest in Breena’s wolf history.
Whether she could shift or not was irrelevant to him; as long as she proved useful in treating him, that was all he cared about.
But Hannah misread his swift dismissal.
“I might know why she can’t shift, your highness,” Hannah spoke up quickly, stepping farther into the room.
Dronti stopped in his tracks.
He turned slowly, his gaze pinning her to the spot like a vice.
“Eavesdropping is forbidden in this villa.
You know the penalty.” Hannah’s breath hitched.
Her knees hit the floor instantly as tears welled in her eyes on cue.
“I am so sorry, your Majesty!
It was an accident—I didn’t mean to listen!
I’ll accept whatever punishment you give me.” Dronti looked down at her tearful display with apathy, not bothering to offer a response.
Rulph, however, leaned forward, his professional curiosity piqued.
In all his decades as a doctor, he had never encountered a wolf whose dormant beast left no chemical trace.
“If you don’t mind, my King,” Rulph interjected, eyeing the kneeling girl, “I’d like to hear her explanation.
It might shed some light on the anomaly.” Hannah wiped her cheek, looking up at Dronti.
“She’s a hybrid.” Dronti, who had already turned toward the double doors, paused.
“Which of her parents was human?” “Her mother,” Hannah answered cleanly.
Without another word, Dronti walked out of the study, with Rulph following close behind.
The pieces settled cleanly in Dronti’s mind.
The silver bullet hadn’t killed her because her blood was diluted by human DNA; she was half-human, half-wolf.
There was nothing mysterious or formidable about her after all—just a weak half-breed.
He had briefly entertained the thought that she was a special case, but now his interest vanished entirely.
Left alone in the study, Hannah watched the doors click shut.
The helpless, tearful expression melted from her face instantly, replaced by a smug smirk.
She reached into her apron pocket, pulled out her phone, and rapidly typed a text.
Hannah: The King was asking questions about Breena’s shiftless nature.
I had to intervene.
Luna Gracio: Oh dear!
What did you tell him?
Be careful not to implicate yourself.
Hannah: Don’t worry, Mother.
I told him she’s a hybrid.
Luna Gracio: That will keep him quiet for now.
Good thinking.
We’ll handle it if he digs deeper later.
Hannah: Gotta clean now.
Love you and miss you!
Say hi to Shadron.
She slipped the phone back into the apron and picked up the mop, her sharp, decorated press-on nails clicking awkwardly against the pole.
She dragged the damp fringe across the floor with clumsy, hesitant movements, taking extreme care not to snap a nail.
She had never touched a mop in her life.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Hannah jumped as Daisy stepped into the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Daisy took in Hannah’s pathetic, hesitant scrubbing and snapped, “You’re supposed to be cleaning, not admiring your manicure.
If you aren’t going to take this job seriously, I’ll personally strip those ridiculous stick-ons off your hands.” Hannah’s eyes flashed with disdain.
She straightened her spine, stepping right into Daisy’s space.
“Daisy, I have tolerated your disrespect for long enough.
Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?
I am the heiress of—” “Listen to me, girl,” Daisy cut in, her voice low and razor-sharp.
“I don’t care what crown your family wears back home.
As long as you wear that uniform in this villa, you obey my directives—unless you’d prefer a night down in the rogue wolf holding cells in the basement.” Hannah went rigid.
She knew all about the basement holding cells—the windowless vaults where feral, un-shifted rogue wolves were chained, starving and wild for blood.
They would tear a stray servant apart in seconds.
She swallowed hard, taking a reluctant step backward.
“Fine.
But you can at least keep a respectful tone with me.” “That depends entirely on how well you do your job,” Daisy replied coldly.
“Respect is earned here.” “Whatever,” Hannah muttered, turning her back and aggressively plunging the mop into the soapy water.
Down in the medical wing, the quiet hum of heart monitors filled the dim recovery room.
Joline peered through the small glass pane of the door, checking the corridor in both directions.
Seeing no guards in sight, she turned the handle and slipped silently inside.
Breena lay motionless under the white sheets, her skin pale and her breathing soft and shallow.
Joline walked up to the side of the bed, her heels making no sound against the floor.
She looked down at the unconscious woman, a bitter, vicious curve touching her lips.
“Nobody would guess how dangerous you really are while you’re lying here looking so fragile,” Joline whispered, leaning over the bed.
“Is this the pathetic little act you use to trick the King?” She sat gracefully on the edge of the mattress, crossing her legs and arms.
“I don’t know how you managed to sweet-talk your way around the jaguar situation, wolf, but trust me—you won’t wriggle your way out of this one.
He’s going to destroy you with his own hands.” Reaching beneath the folds of her skirt, Joline drew out a sleek dagger sheath.
She unsheathed it just an inch, revealing the gleam of the eclipse blade—an illicit, high-grade assassin’s weapon forged from refined iron and nightshade extract, specifically designed to bypass an Alpha’s aura and kill a Lycan with a single strike to the heart.
With a cold smile, Joline slid the sheathed weapon into the side pocket of Breena’s backpack resting on the bedside chair.
She smoothed the flap back down, concealing the heavy bulge completely.
“Let’s see if he spares you this time,” Joline murmured.
She stood up, adjusted her skirts, and slipped quietly back out into the hallway, closing the door behind her without a sound.