Chapter 131: Cloaked in Lies
By the time the last torch in the old hall guttered out, the estate felt like a throat ready to choke on its own secrets. Magnolia stood at the threshold of the ancient apothecary, one hand braced on the splintered frame, the other curled around the ritual knife she’d promised Sterling she’d use tonight. Its cold weight pressed into her palm like an unspoken dare.
Behind her, Beckett paced. He’d been pacing for an hour, boots whispering over the cracked tiles, wolf pacing the bars of its cage. Every now and then he’d stop to glance at her, like he was searching her skin for a crack that might break open if he looked hard enough.
"He’ll smell it," he said for the third time. His voice was quieter now, worn down to a ragged edge. "He’ll know you’re lying."
Magnolia didn’t move. "Not if I don’t flinch."
"You’re betting your soul on that."
She turned, her cloak brushing the doorframe. "What would you have me do, Beckett? Tell him no and wait for him to cut Camille apart? I saw her. I saw what’s left of her."
His eyes flashed, wolf-quick, but his mouth stayed tight. "So you’ll bleed yourself dry for a ghost."
"She’s not a ghost." Magnolia’s voice cracked, but she forced it back down. "She’s my sister."
Beckett laughed, but the sound was empty. He stalked closer, close enough that the scent of snow and iron off his coat made her stomach twist. "I know. And you think you can outplay him , outplay Gabriel , with half the pack sniffing for your throat."
"I don’t think." Magnolia shoved the ritual blade into the folds of her cloak, tucking it tight against her ribs. "I know."
Beckett’s hands hovered at her shoulders, like he might grab her, shake the steel out of her bones. But he didn’t. He just let them drop to his sides, useless fists.