I Found My Replacement's Rotting Hair On The Alpha's Pillow

The bathroom door clicked shut from the inside. The brass lock snapped into place.

"Get up, Omega," Kael ordered.

He stepped over the sludge-soaked scarf without a second glance.

I pushed myself off the carpet. My knees throbbed from scrubbing the floorboards. The coarse fabric of the maid's uniform scratched against my skin, a constant reminder of my new status.

"Is she dying?" I asked.

"She has a stomach bug," he replied. He adjusted his silver cufflinks, perfectly calm.

"Stomach bugs don't bleed black."

"You see what I tell you to see." Kael stepped into my space. He towered over me, forcing me to tilt my head back. "Clean the vanity. Make the bed. Have this room spotless before I return from the border patrol."

"You're leaving her like this?"

"A Luna does not show weakness," he stated, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. "She needs rest. And you need to scrub."

"What about the blood on the scarf?"

"Wine, Aria. It was wine." Kael shot me a warning glare. "Speak of this to anyone, and I will throw you to the rogues tonight. Do you understand?"

"I understand you're lying to yourself."

His hand snapped out. His fingers wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to cut off my air. I gripped his wrist, my nails digging into his skin, but he didn't budge.

"You are a maid," he whispered, leaning in close. "Your opinions died at the altar. Do your job."

He released me. I coughed, rubbing my neck.

"Yes, Alpha," I rasped.

He turned on his heel. The heavy oak bedroom door slammed shut behind him. The sound echoed through the massive suite.

The room fell completely silent. Only the muffled sound of running water came from behind the bathroom door.

I grabbed the brass trash bin and walked over to the vanity table. Shattered glass littered the floor. I knelt and picked up the jagged pieces one by one, dropping them into the metal bin with sharp clinks.

The bathroom lock clicked again. The door creaked open.

I kept my head down, focusing on the glass. Bare feet padded across the hardwood. They dragged slightly. They lacked the confident, commanding stride from the plaza.

Seraphina collapsed onto the velvet mattress. The bedsprings whined under her weight.

"Water," she croaked.

"Get it yourself," I said. I tossed a large shard into the bin.

"I am your Luna."

"You're Kael's Luna. I'm just the maid he threw away."

"Do not test my patience, Omega."

"You don't have the strength to punish me right now," I pointed out. "I can hear your heart racing from here."

She didn't argue. That silence alone proved my point.

I stood up and faced the vanity mirror. Makeup powder coated the marble surface. A knocked-over perfume bottle leaked a sickly sweet floral scent into the air. A crumpled tissue covered in dark smears sat next to a jewelry box.

Right in the center of the mess lay a pure silver hairbrush.

I reached out and grabbed the handle. The metal felt ice-cold against my palm.

I flipped the brush over to inspect the bristles.

My lungs stopped pulling in air.

Thick clumps of hair tangled through the nylon pins. But it wasn't golden. It wasn't the shining blonde that Seraphina flaunted in front of the entire pack.

It was gray.

Dry, ashen, and brittle. The strands looked like dead wood, frayed and rotting. I ran a thumb over the edge of the bristles. The hair crumbled into dust instantly, coating my skin in a chalky residue.

"Put that down," Seraphina demanded from the bed.

I didn't move. The silver handle suddenly felt incredibly heavy. It felt like a brick in my grip. Its sharp edges bit into my flesh.

I looked at her through the mirror's reflection.

She lay flat on her back. Her chest heaved rapidly. The silk robe clung to her frame, but she looked completely wrong. Just hours ago, she commanded the entire pack. She stood tall, strong, untouchable.

Now, she looked like a deflated balloon. Her skin possessed a sickly, yellow undertone. Sweat plastered her remaining blonde hair to her forehead.

I turned around. I held the brush up so she could see it clearly in the low light.

"What is this?" I asked.

"None of your business," she rasped.

"This isn't your hair," I said. "Or is it?"

"I told you to drop it, Aria."

"You're shedding like a sick dog, Seraphina."

"Watch your mouth."

"Why? What are you going to do?" I took a half-step backward, keeping my guard up. My muscles coiled tight, ready to run. "You can barely speak. You threw up black sludge. Kael practically fed on the scent of it."

She flinched. Her eyes darted toward the locked bedroom door, then back to me.

"He didn't notice," she whispered.

"He stood right outside the door," I corrected her. "He smiled, Seraphina. He liked it."

"Shut up."

"He knows something is wrong with you."

"I said shut up!" She tried to sit up, pushing off the mattress. Her right elbow gave out immediately. She crashed back into the pillows, gasping for air.

I tightened my grip on the silver brush. The power dynamic in the room shifted, tipping entirely in my direction. I could walk out right now. I could show this brush to the pack elders. I could tell them the invincible Luna was rotting from the inside out.

"You built your entire reputation on being the strongest she-wolf in the north," I said.

"I am the strongest."

"You can't even sit up."

"It will pass."

"Will it?" I asked. I raised the brush again, shaking the dead strands. "Because this looks pretty permanent."

"Give me the brush."

"No."

"I will have Kael rip your throat out."

"Kael doesn't care about you," I said. "He proved that at the altar. He cares about power. If he finds out you're broken, he'll discard you just like he discarded me."

Her jaw clamped shut. A muscle feathered in her cheek. She knew I was right.

"You're hiding something," I said. "Something huge."

"We all hide things," she countered, her voice dropping to a desperate hiss.

"Not this," I said, taking a cautious step closer to the bed. "This is dark magic. Or poison. Did Kael do this to you?"

"Kael is a fool," she spat.

"Then what is it? Why did your hair turn to ash?"

Seraphina stared at me. The arrogant fire in her eyes vanished entirely. It was replaced by sheer, unadulterated panic. The kind of panic that belonged to hunted prey.

She reached down with her right hand and grabbed the edge of the heavy velvet blanket.

"You want to know why I need you?" she asked.

"I don't care what you need."

"You will."

"I clean your floors. I don't keep your secrets."

"You will keep this one," she promised.

She ripped the blanket back.

I stumbled backward. My heel hit the edge of the vanity stool hard. It screeched against the floorboards.

Her left arm lay exposed against the white sheets. The sleeve of her silk robe was pushed all the way up to her shoulder.

There was no muscle left. No healthy flesh.

The arm was entirely shriveled. The skin stretched tight over the bones, blackened and cracked like charred leather. Dark, purple veins pulsed weakly beneath the withered surface. It looked like the limb of a centuries-old corpse attached to a living woman.

My stomach lurched. Bile rose in my throat.

She lifted her head off the pillow. Her eyes locked onto mine, wide and bloodshot.

"Lock the door," she commanded, her voice scraping out of her throat.