The Cursed Alpha's Fifth Luna

Charlotte sat before the fireplace, the flames crackling softly as they devoured the logs stacked within the hearth. She hadn’t moved in what felt like an hour. Several maids stood quietly behind her, hands folded, not daring to disturb the silence that had settled over the chamber. Every few moments, Charlotte’s gaze drifted toward the tall, closed double doors before returning to the fire.

Beyond the stone walls, faint sounds drifted in from the courtyard, but nothing of what she expected to hear. Charlotte reached for another piece of firewood resting in the basket beside her and placed it onto the burning pile. The flames surged, and she flipped the logs over with the tongs, burying them under the red coals.

A sharp knock echoed through the room, and her hand stilled on the tongs. This time, she did not look at the doors.

"Get it," she murmured.

One of the maids bowed immediately. "Yes, Your Grace."

She hurried across the room and pulled open the heavy doors. A man dressed entirely in black stepped inside, his face hidden beneath a dark scarf, his head lowered. Charlotte didn’t spare him a glance; she simply continued to tend the fire.

"Leave us," she said in a calm voice.

The servants bowed in unison before filing silently out of the chamber, pulling the doors shut behind them. Only then did Charlotte turn her head slightly to regard the man, who stood before her with his head still lowered.

Charlotte’s eyes tracked to his hands—there was nothing in them.

She clenched her jaw for a moment, then lifted her gaze back to his face. "Why are you here?" she asked. "The instruction was not to return without the seal..." She paused, raising her eyes to look at him directly. "Or is the Alpha dead?"

The man remained bowed. "You instructed us to follow the Alpha and attack once we noticed any suspicious movements."

Charlotte did not respond.

"The Alpha went to his mother’s tomb," the man said.

Charlotte’s eyes widened at his words.

He hid the seal in his mother’s tomb?

A scoff escaped her lips.

The one place he knew she wouldn’t search.

Quite smart of him. She didn’t expect any less. "We waited until he had opened it before we attacked." The man continued

Charlotte’s expression remained unreadable. "And?"

The man swallowed hard. "We lost several men."

At his words, a cold rage boiled inside her. She looked at his hands again, as though the seal might miraculously appear in them.

"And the seal?"

"Forgive us, Your Grace." The man immediately dropped to both knees, centering himself on the thick rug spread before her hearth. His forehead nearly touched the fabric. "We were unable to enter the tomb. The Alpha was far stronger than anticipated, and he was with two other Lycans. But we did manage to wound him. Our arrows were coated with wolfsbane. He will most likely not survive the night."

At his words, Charlotte’s gaze darkened. A long second passed before she stood up slowly from her chair and descended the single step separating her hearth from the kneeling man. She stopped directly before him.

"You injured the Alpha?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"So, is he dead?"

The chamber became painfully still. The man’s breathing grew uneven. "No..." he admitted, his voice trembling. "We... we couldn’t confirm if he was dead, but the wolfsbane poison was highly concentrated. He will not survive the night."

Charlotte stared down at the foolish man kneeling in front of her. If wolfsbane were all she needed to get rid of Rodrigo, it wouldn’t have taken her twenty years of plotting. For a child who had survived what he did at eight years old, mere wolfsbane would not be enough to kill him.

Her gaze remained fixed on him for a moment. Then, her eyes drifted to the silver fruit knife resting on the table beside her chair. She reached out and picked it up.

Taking another step toward the man, she cut in, her voice entirely devoid of emotion. "How many of your men survived?"

"Three, Your Grace," the man whispered, his voice laced with desperation. "But they have all retreated out of the pack house. I was sent to deliver the message."

"So, you are the only one here," she murmured.

"Yes—"

Before the word could fully leave his mouth, Charlotte sliced the knife cleanly across his throat.

It happened in a flash. One second he was kneeling, and the next, his eyes were wide in sheer terror. His hand flew to his neck as a torrent of blood spluttered across the rug. With a wet, strangled gasp, his body toppled sideways, collapsing onto the floor.

Charlotte stood over him, completely indifferent, and watched the fabric drink the blood.

"You couldn’t confirm," she whispered to the corpse. "So you returned to tell me you failed. You couldn’t kill him, you couldn’t bring back the seal, and yet you had the audacity to bring your failure to my door."

She tossed the silver blade onto his chest. "Fool."

Her eyes turned toward the adjoining wall. "Joker," she called.

The word had barely left her mouth when the hidden door at the back of the chamber swung open. A tall, broad-shouldered man entered. A jagged scar stretched across the left side of his face, cutting from his temple to his jaw, and his dark hair was tied neatly into a tight bun.

He stopped before Charlotte and bowed. "Your Grace."

She pointed toward the rug. "Dispose of him. Let no one find out. Take the carpet with you."

Joker nodded, showing no surprise at the dead man or the mess, as though such sights were entirely ordinary. "At once, Your Grace."

"The Alpha has been injured," Charlotte continued, her voice calm but heavy. "If he is still alive, he will not let this lie. Clean up every trail leading back to me. Erase it all."

"I understand."

Joker crossed the room, knelt beside the body, and rolled the corpse tightly inside the blood-soaked rug. He hoisted the heavy bundle onto his shoulder and disappeared through the concealed doorway. The panel slid shut behind him, and the wood returned to looking like a normal wall.

The room fell quiet once more.

Charlotte didn’t move. Her fingers slowly curled into her palm until her nails pierced her skin. If whatever he had hidden in the tomb was the seal, then she was too late. He had regained his memories.

Which meant they were in trouble.

Charlotte shut her eyes, a muscle twitching in her jaw. Rodrigo would never forgive whoever had dared to try and kill him—and failed.

She looked around the room, making sure there was no lingering trace of blood on the stone floor. Rodrigo would have her head if he found out. To kill Rodrigo, it had to be done once, and it had to be final. There would be no second chances.

If only they had agreed to go with my plan, she cursed under her breath.

Even if there was no evidence, Rodrigo would manufacture one.

She could not be found here in the morning.

Her eyes darted to the door.

She needed to leave.

Now!