Sherelle’s POV
Everything is complete.
Every piece, every carefully laid trap, every whisper of deceit I had planted over the many, many months-it had all led to this moment.
Waiting. Watching. Scheming.
And now, finally, Kamrynn was walking straight into my hands.
A slow, satisfied smile curled across my lips as I turned toward the luxurious couch in the center of the dimly lit room.
Lorien lounged there, his long silken red hair cascading in a braid that draped lazily over the edge of the seat, pooling onto the black marble floor.
His beauty was otherworldly, his features so ethereal it was almost haunting. Sharp cheekbones, a perfectly sculpted jaw, and lips that always seemed to carry the ghost of an amused smirk. His skin was pale, flawless, a stark contrast to the deep crimson hue of his hair and the eerie glow of his unnaturally red eyes-eyes that flickered like molten embers beneath the soft glow of candlelight.
He was leisurely flipping a collection of gemstones in his palm, his long, elegant fingers effortlessly rolling them between his knuckles.
“Stop playing with those stones and get ready,” I said smoothly, though my voice carried an edge of command. “We only have one chance at this.”
Lorien’s fingers stilled over the jewels.
He sat up abruptly, his glowing red eyes cutting through me like a blade.
A slow smirk slid across his lips as the faintly glowing ancient marks on his forehead pulsed.
“Careful, wolf,” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement, yet sharp as a dagger. “Noble dragons are subservient to no one.”
I internally rolled my eyes, but I was careful to keep my expression composed.
Instead, I let a sugary sweet smile form on my lips, tilting my head in feigned innocence.
“Of course,” I purred. “I meant no disrespect, Lorien.”
The tension in the air thinned, and his smirk returned.
Satisfied, he leaned back into the couch, resuming his casual indifference.
“You know,” he murmured, lazily flipping one of the gemstones between his fingers, “I can’t stand anything counterfeit.”
He let the statement linger, his crimson gaze flickering toward me with something dangerously unreadable.
I remained silent, watching as he picked up an opal from the pile and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.
“People. Objects. Even dreams,” he continued. “I’ve developed a habit of filtering through gems-many are pretty on the outside, but often rotten, hollowed out, and worthless on the inside. Just like this.”
With a swift movement, he crushed the opal between his fingers.
A fine dust slipped through his hands, falling like powdered glass onto the floor.
I knew what he was doing.
The jab was subtle, but it was there.
I refused to react.
Instead, I smiled-as if the insult had flown right over my head.
“Well,” I said, deliberately keeping my tone light, “lucky for me, I’m not just any stone, am I?”
Lorien chuckled, his lips curling into something wicked.
“No,” he murmured. “You certainly aren’t.”
I turned away before he could see the flicker of irritation in my eyes.
It didn’t matter what he thought of me.
Lorien was a means to an end-nothing more.
And I could endure him for a little longer.
“Kamrynn will be arriving any minute,” I said sweetly, regaining my composure. “We need to set things up properly if we want her to fall into our trap.”
Lorien let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly.
“It still quite perplexes me,” he mused, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. “How easily you’ve betrayed your own sister.”
My entire body stiffened.
The slow, curling smirk on my lips vanished.
I turned to him sharply, my eyes burning with warning.
“Do not,” I hissed, “call her my sister.”
Lorien raised a brow, clearly amused by my sudden shift in demeanor.
That only pissed me off more.
“She is not my sister,” I seethed, my nails digging into my palms.
The room felt heavier in that moment, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Lorien studied me, his smirk deepening.
“Now you have my attention,” he murmured.
I turned away, forcing myself to breathe evenly.
I wouldn’t let him provoke me.
Not when I had too much at stake.
But Lorien, ever the manipulator, wasn’t finished.
“Come now,” he coaxed, his voice a low purr, “we still have time before your dear Kamrynn arrives. Indulge me, Sherelle. What fuels such delicious hatred?”
I knew I shouldn’t.
I knew I should ignore him.
But…
I never could resist being the center of attention.
I turned to him slowly, exhaling as I relaxed my shoulders.
“You want to know why I hate her?” I asked, my voice deceptively sweet.
Lorien merely tilted his head, waiting.
I smiled.
A slow, twisted smile.
“Kamrynn and I aren’t twins,” I said softly. “We aren’t even sisters.”
Lorien’s brows lifted slightly.
I stepped closer, letting my words sink in.
“We look alike because of our mothers,” I continued. “Kamrynn’s mother, Floria, was a twin who married a twin. My biological parents died in a fire when I was four. Kamrynn was two at the time. Her parents took me in, raised me as their own.”
Lorien said nothing, but there was something dangerous in his expression.
I pressed forward.
“I was small for my age,” I mused. “And because I looked so much like Kamrynn, the Pack started calling us twins. So her parents let them believe it. They raised us that way. But Kamrynn? She was too young to remember. She has no idea she isn’t really my twin. No idea that she’s been living a lie her whole life.”
Lorien finally spoke, his voice soft, amused.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
I grinned.
“Tell me, Lorien,” I purred, my eyes glittering with something dark. “What’s the worst lie someone can live?”
Lorien’s lips curled into a wicked smile.
“The one they never see coming.”
I chuckled.
“Kamrynn had no clue.”
I leaned back, a slow, cruel smile curling my lips.
“She spent her entire pathetic life believing we were sisters-twins, even-when in reality, we were nothing of the sort.”
Lorien hummed in amusement, flipping his hair to the side. “How tragic.”
“I’m slightly embarrassed she never realized but could she when she always had her head stuck in her pretty little cloud, dreaming of butterflies and fairy tale endings? Or perhaps she was too young to realize that when her mother and father took me in, it wasn’t because they loved me.”
I paused, my fingers tapping lightly against the table.
“It was pity.”