Giselle’s POV
The mercenary was yet to come.
I stood by the window, fingers drumming impatiently on the sill, waiting for the knock on my door that I knew was coming.
Finally, it came. Three sharp raps, exactly as we had agreed. I crossed the room quickly, yanking the door open to reveal the mercenary.
His hulking frame filled the doorway, his face shadowed by the hood of his cloak. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. My heart pounded in my chest, half with anticipation, half with something close to fear.
“Is it done?” I demanded in a whisper. I didn’t dare speak louder, as if the walls themselves might betray me.
The mercenary didn’t answer immediately. He simply reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a blood-stained knife, holding it up for me to see. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of it.
“So, she’s dead?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly despite my best efforts to remain calm. “She is finally dead?”
The mercenary’s gaze flicked up to meet mine, and for the first time, I felt a chill run down my spine. There was something in his eyes, something dark and unreadable, that made my stomach twist in unease.
“It’s done,” he said gruffly. “The woman is dead.”
“Good,” I replied, though my voice carried little emotion. “Was there any trouble?”
“None,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “She didn’t even see it coming. One clean strike.”
I nodded, satisfied. “Describe her to me,” I demanded, wanting to savor the moment. After all the trouble Aria had caused, I deserved to hear about her end in detail.
The mercenary hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. “She was sitting on a porch, eating something… strawberries, I think. She had shoulder-length hair, reddish.”
I froze. The room seemed to shrink around me, the walls pressing in. Reddish hair? No, that couldn’t be right. Aria had brown hair-long, wavy brown hair. A cold, sinking feeling settled in my stomach.
“Red hair?” I echoed. “Are you… Are you sure?”
The mercenary nodded, his expression hardening as if he sensed my sudden tension. “It was hard to miss. Yes, shoulder-length, red hair. That’s what you said, right?”
“I never said that!” I snapped. My blood ran cold. The realization hit me like a slap to the face.
Shoulder-length red hair… that wasn’t Aria. That was Mia.
My sister.
The coldness inside me deepened, but it wasn’t grief that gripped me. It was fury. How could he have been so careless? How could he mistake my sister for Aria?
Mia wasn’t supposed to be involved in this. She was a non-factor in this game. And now, because of this idiot’s incompetence, she was dead.
“You… you killed Mia,” I repeated, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You killed my sister.”
The mercenary stiffened but his face remained impassive. “You told me to kill the woman living at the end of the street,” he repeated. “That’s what I did.”
“I told you to kill Aria!” I snapped, my voice rising with anger. “Not Mia. Aria has brown hair, you fool! How could you get this so wrong?”
For a moment, the mercenary looked at me, and I saw a flicker of something in his eyes-perhaps fear, perhaps anger. But he quickly masked it, his expression turning stony again.
“You said to kill the woman living at the end of the street,” he repeated as if that excused his blunder. “I did my job. If you wanted someone else dead, you should have been clearer.”
My chest tightened with rage, but I forced myself to stay calm. Anger wouldn’t solve this mess. I needed to think, to figure out how to deal with this new complication. Mia was dead, but Aria was still alive. The real threat remained.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, forcing the words out. “What’s done is done. But Aria is still out there, and I want her dealt with. Do you understand me?”
The mercenary’s eyes narrowed, and I could see him considering my words. His hand tightened on the hilt of his knife, and for a brief moment, I wondered if he was about to turn on me. But then he nodded, slipping the knife back into his cloak.
“It’ll cost you extra,” he warned.
“Whatever it takes,” I replied coldly. “Just make sure Aria is dead. And this time, do it right.”
The mercenary stared at me in what I assumed was a surprise. “Are you not moved?” He asked.
“Moved by what?”
“I just killed your sister, Luna.” He pointed out. “Does that change nothing?”
The accusation in his voice annoyed me, and I rolled my eyes. “Mia and I weren’t close, anyway. She was bound to die at some point, what with the wretched life she lived, a life unworthy of an Alpha’s daughter. I only fear what my father would say about her death.”
The mercenary stared at me for long, intense seconds, before he finally pulled his gaze away. “Very well. I will do the job perfectly this time, then.”
As the door closed behind the mercenary, I let out a long breath, trying to steady myself. The idiot had ruined everything. Mia was dead, and Aria was still out there, breathing, plotting. I needed to focus, to plan my next move.
But before I could gather my thoughts, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway.
I moved to the window, pulling the curtain back slightly to peer outside. Voices were rising, overlapping, growing louder. Something was happening. I threw the door open and stepped out into the corridor. A maid was hurrying past, a bundle clutched tightly in her arms.
“Stop!” I commanded.
The maid halted abruptly and turned to face me. “What are you carrying?” I demanded, my gaze narrowing on the bundle.
The maid hesitated, her arms tightening protectively around it. “It’s… it’s a baby, Luna,” she stammered.
“A baby?” I repeated. “Whose child is that?”
“It’s… it’s Lady Aria’s baby, Luna,” the maid replied.
Aria’s child? I stared at the small, blond-haired, and swaddled figure in the maid’s arms, feeling the rage that had been inside me all day suddenly flare to life again. Why was Aria’s bastard child here?
The voices I’d heard grew louder. Impatiently, I waved the maid off and walked towards the foyer. As I reached the foyer, I froze.
There, standing in the doorway, was Alpha Denderick, his arm around a woman’s shoulders. Her head was bowed, her movements sluggish as if she were struggling to stay on her feet.
My breath caught in my throat as the woman looked up, her face coming into view. Recognition slammed into me, and my blood turned to ice.
Aria was here again.