Willow called his name, her voice trembling with apprehension.
Earlier that morning, she had received news from the border patrol.
They said they had found the Luna’s silver–burned corpse on a stretcher, with an eight–year–old child collapsed beside her.
The silver had left my skin blackened and blistered, evidence of prolonged torture before death.
At the time, Willow had been brushing her dog’s fur in her luxurious room. When she heard the news, she snapped the brush in
her hand.
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The expensive carved wood splitting with a crack that echoed her fractured composure.
Having been by Kieran’s side for so many years before I came along, she knew him too well.
This man was contemptible, always only caring about what he couldn’t have.
Before it was her, now… she began to panic….
“He can’t possibly still care for that woman,” she muttered to herself, pacing the room. “Or that brat.”
So when she learned Kieran was looking for her,
Willow deliberately mussed her appearance to make herself look traumatized, even adding dark circles under her eyes with
makeup.
She pinched her cheeks until they were red and rubbed her eyes until they watered. 1
Only when she looked flawless in her deception was she satisfied.
Sitting in a hastily borrowed wheelchair, Willow suppressed her inner turmoil and called out softly.
“Kieran, did you need something from me?”
She made sure her voice cracked slightly, as if overcome with emotion.
Kieran turned around, the anger in his eyes momentarily faltering at the sight of Willow’s distraught appearance.
But then he thought of me and our unconscious daughter, and his heart hardened again.
“Willow, the injuries on Emma’s body, did you cause them?”
He stared intently into Willow’s eyes, his voice turning sinister.
His hands trembled slightly as he fought the urge to grab her shoulders and shake the truth out of her.
Willow’s heart skipped a beat, but her face maintained a shocked, sympathetic expression.
“Me?” she whispered, her eyes widening in perfect innocence. “How could you think that?”
Upon seeing our daughter in intensive care, she immediately covered her mouth, her eyes reddening.
A single tear rolled down her cheek. Practiced. Perfect.
“What… what happened to Emma…”
She grabbed the hem of Kieran’s shirt, crying beautifully.
Not a single tear smudged her carefully applied makeup.
“Poor Emma, who could be so heartless to do this to an eight–year–old child?”
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“Kieran, you must find the culprit. They can’t be allowed to get away with this.”
Her voice trembled with just the right amount of righteous anger.
Kieran looked directly into Willow’s eyes, suspicious:
“Is that really how you feel?”
His nostrils flared slightly, searching for the scent of deception.
Willow nodded, her response decisive:
“Of course! Although Emma previously… told the rogues where to find me… but no matter what, she’s just a child.”
She lowered her eyes, the picture of magnanimous forgiveness.
“Seeing her like this breaks my heart.”
She placed her hand over her chest, as if trying to contain her pain.
“Kieran, don’t you believe me?”
She looked up at him through wet lashes, her expression so vulnerable it would melt stone.
Looking at Willow’s pitiful expression, Kieran’s suspicions gradually dissipated.
I wanted to scream. To shake him. To make him see through her act.
He shifted his gaze, turning to focus intently on our still–sleeping daughter, his eyes full of concern.
“I believe you. It’s just that with Emma in this condition, I can’t help but ask questions.”
His shoulders slumped slightly with defeat.
“Willow, are all the warriors who were with you yesterday still here? I want to ask them about last night’s situation.”
His voice held a hint of authority again, the Alpha reasserting himself.
Willow lowered her eyes, curling the corner of her mouth where Kieran couldn’t see.
A flash of triumph that was gone as quickly as it appeared.
Before coming, she had already instructed her beta friends not to let anything slip.
“Remember,” she had told them, “you saw nothing. You heard nothing. Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Kieran wouldn’t get anything out of them.
Thinking about how Kieran’s face had momentarily softened when he heard that “little mongrel” call him daddy last night,
Willow was consumed with hatred.
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The memory burned in her mind — that moment when his mask of indifference had slipped.
She thought she shouldn’t have been soft–hearted; she should have let that little mongrel run to the rogue territory with me.
Should have made sure both of us were eliminated in one clean sweep.
That way, Kieran’s eyes would only see her.
There would be no reminders of what he had lost. What he had thrown away.
After hearing their conversation, rage nearly consumed me.
I wanted to rip through the veil between life and death. To drag Willow into the darkness with me.
I knew Kieran’s small brain wasn’t particularly developed. A few simple words were enough to deceive him.
Some mighty Alpha he was. So easily manipulated. So willingly blind.
As I mentally cursed, Kieran suddenly received a phone call.
The harsh ringtone cut through the tension in the room.
He glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing with concern.
“I need to take this,” he said, already stepping away. “It’s about the rogues who… did this.”
After instructing Willow to return to her room early, he left on his own.
His footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into silence.
Once he was gone, Willow stood up from the wheelchair and gazed at my daughter’s sleeping face through the glass window.
The pretense dropped from her face like a discarded mask.
Her gentle expression hardened into something cruel and calculating.
A bold plan gradually formed in her mind.
“Ava, since your daughter is as troublesome as you were, insisting on getting in my way.”
She tapped her long nails against the glass, the sound like tiny daggers.
“I have no choice but to consider my own interests. I’ll have to kill
