Chapter 46

CASSANDRA

I sat curled up in one of the velvet chairs in my father’s study, legs tucked beneath me, the rim of my wine glass resting lightly against my bottom lip. The press conference played across the flat screen mounted above the fireplace, illuminating the room in hues of blue and gold.

I twirled the glass slowly between my fingers, letting the wine catch the firelight as it sloshed gently in the bowl. The deep red clung to the sides like blood. Appropriate, considering the wounds this entire debacle was reopening.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to throw the glass across the room or finish it.

My gaze returned to the screen.

There she was.

Elena—Princess of Moonstone, once presumed dead, now revived and radiant and standing beside Derek like the Goddess herself had plucked her from the afterlife for an encore performance. Her chin was high, her dress understated but elegant, her expression carefully measured.

I took another sip of wine.

Derek looked good. Commanding. Polished. A true Alpha in a tailored black suit.

But it was the way he stood next to her, the quiet way he reached for her hand mid-interrogation, that made my stomach twist. She hadn’t pulled away.

She let him.

I leaned forward and turned up the volume. It was all playing out beautifully. Better than I’d planned, honestly.

The media storm I had unleashed was doing exactly what it was supposed to—forcing Elena into the public eye, forcing her to explain herself. And best of all, forcing her and Derek to align publicly, for the sake of the Alliance.

She would hate it.

I knew she loathed the spotlight.

And nothing brought people together quite like obligation, I thought sarcastically.

Except Derek hadn’t looked particularly obligated when he lifted their joined hands at the end like they were some kind of united front. And Elena, she’d looked… steady. Like she remembered what it was to be a Luna.

That was dangerous.

I took another sip, then a bigger one. The wine burned on its way down. My father always said Elena was a problem best solved by someone who knew how to think long term.

I was thinking long term.

She thought this was over? That all it would take was a press conference and a few well-timed tears to reclaim her story?

No. No, this wasn’t just about her tragic reappearance, or how tragically perfect she looked next to Derek under the lights.

This was about control. About power. And she’d already had her turn.

I’d waited. Played the dutiful friend. The supportive almost-fiancée. The clever, resourceful backup. But second place stopped being enough the second she came back from the dead and started stealing the spotlight all over again.

And Derek… he didn’t even see it. Not really. He was still caught between the woman who had vanished and the one who had returned. Still unsure if he was in love with a ghost or a myth.

But eventually, he’d have to choose. And when that day came, I wouldn’t be left standing in the wings.

I traced my finger along the rim of the glass, hearing the faint, resonant hum it made. Outside, the wind had picked up, howling low against the window like the ghosts of a thousand disappointed she-wolves.

I’d known girls like Elena my whole life—smiling on the outside, calculating on the inside. Using their charm like a dagger. And still, somehow, managing to make everyone believe they were the victim.

A log shifted in the fireplace with a sharp snap, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. I didn’t flinch. I was too far gone into my own spiral of contempt, calculation, and red wine.

That was the problem with wolves like Elena. They always underestimated what the quiet ones could do.

I didn’t hear the door slam open—I felt it.

Derek’s presence filled the study like a lightning strike, sharp and sudden. I jumped, nearly spilling what was left in my glass.

“Derek!” I managed, my voice half-scolding, half-shocked.

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t even start.”

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. He didn’t bother to sit. He marched straight toward me like a storm on two legs and stopped a few feet away, his jaw tight, his eyes darker than I’d ever seen them.

“You leaked it,” he said.

Not a question. A fact.

I set the wine glass on the table beside me, forced a shrug, and leaned back in the chair, feigning nonchalance. “Honestly, it’s not like that secret was going to stay buried forever. So to speak.”

“You could’ve gotten her killed,” he growled. “You could’ve compromised everything we’ve been working toward. The Alliance—”

“The Alliance is a house of cards,” I cut in, eyes narrowing. “You’re treating it like it’s sacred when it’s being held together by half-truths and wishful thinking. Moonstone and Silverclaw were never meant to play nice.”

His face twisted with disgust. “So your solution was to pour gasoline on an already burning fire?”

“No,” I said, standing up now, my voice sharpening. “My solution was to force some transparency. And look—it worked. Elena’s been dragged into the spotlight, the truth’s out, and you and she still managed to look like a united front.”

“That wasn’t unity,” he snapped. “That was damage control. And the only reason we needed it was because of you.”

I laughed bitterly. “You’re acting like I staged the press ambush personally. All I did was tip off a friend. You think they weren’t already sniffing around? She’s not exactly forgettable.”

“Don’t insult both of our intelligence, Cassandra,” he said, voice dangerously low. “That photo at the wedding, the timing—this wasn’t a tip. It was a calculated move.”

“And what if it was?” I asked, stepping closer, chin lifted. “She’s been lying to everyone for years. You mourned her. You buried her. And then she strolls back into our lives like nothing happened. And I’m supposed to smile and watch you fall for her all over again?”

His eyes darkened, lips tightening. “This isn’t about you and me.”

“The hell it isn’t,” I snapped. “You made promises, Derek. You vowed—”

“That was almost twenty years ago,” he said. “And we were kids.”

“You said you’d protect me.”

He said nothing.

The silence between us stretched, brittle and sharp. I hated that I could still read every flicker of emotion behind those eyes. That despite all of it, I still knew when he was on the edge of leaving. Of walking away from me for good.

So I did the only thing I could think of.

I softened. Dropped my shoulders. Let the tears well.

“Please,” I whispered. “I did this because I love you. I’ve always loved you. I thought… I thought if she were out of the way…”

He blinked, slow and heavy, like it physically pained him to look at me.

“I can’t do this,” he said, the words brittle.

“Derek,” I said, moving toward him, placing a hand on his chest. “You don’t have to—”

He stepped back.

“No,” he said firmly. “Don’t.”

My hand fell uselessly to my side.

“I came here to ask why,” he said. “Now I know. You were scared. And petty. And reckless. And I don’t have time to clean up any more of your messes.”

“I’m not the one making the messes,” I snapped, tears instantly gone. “You are. Letting her back in. Falling all over her like she hasn’t been a ghost for the past six years.”

He turned without another word.

I stood there, trembling with rage and humiliation as the door slammed shut behind him.

Fine.

If that’s how he wanted to play it.

I crossed to the sideboard and poured myself another glass of wine. My reflection stared back at me in the dark glass of the TV screen. Eyes sharp. Shoulders squared. This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

If Elena thought she’d won—if Derek thought he could humiliate me and walk away unscathed—they were both about to learn something very important.

I wasn’t done yet.

And I always played the long game.