A Fatal Weakness Exposed

The clinking of fine silverware against porcelain echoed in the vast, empty space of the pack house dining room. Della moved around the long mahogany table, her fingers tracing the edge of the polished wood as she adjusted the crystal water glasses. She wanted everything to be perfect. The savory aroma of roasted herbs and garlic drifted from the kitchen, blending with the faint, lingering scent of pine and rain that always seemed to follow Declan.

Della tugged at the hem of the oversized black dress shirt she wore. The fabric felt soft against her skin. It swallowed her small frame, the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, the collar slipping off one shoulder. It was Declan’s shirt. After the overwhelming events of the day, slipping into his clothing had felt like wrapping herself in a protective shield. The rich, musky scent of her mate was woven deep into the threads, grounding her racing heart. She knew she was supposed to be transitioning into the role of the future Luna, but she still felt like the same timid maid who used to scrub these very floors.

She set down the last silver fork, stepping back to admire her work. The dining room looked beautiful under the warm glow of the crystal chandelier overhead. She had prepared a feast for Declan and Luna Rowena, hoping the shared meal would help ease the suffocating tension she knew still lingered between mother and son.

The heavy double doors of the dining room swung open with a sharp, commanding creak.

Della turned, a welcoming smile already forming on her lips, but it froze instantly.

It wasn't Declan. It wasn't Luna Rowena.

A woman strode into the room, her presence commanding and heavy with an oppressive aura. She wore a crimson, thigh-skimming gown that clung to her curves like a second skin, radiating wealth and arrogant confidence. Every step she took echoed with the sharp clatter of her designer slippers, the delicate straps glittering with genuine diamonds under the chandelier’s light. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in perfect, glossy waves.

Lexa. The Beta’s daughter.

Della’s chest tightened. She took a reflexive step back, her hands instinctively clutching the edge of the dining table. The sheer superiority rolling off the other woman made the air in the room feel thin and hard to breathe.

Lexa stopped a few feet away, her sharp, predatory gaze sweeping over the table setting before locking onto Della. A sneer twisted her painted lips.

"Hey, maid," Lexa drawled, her voice dripping with venom. She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she inspected Della like a piece of rotting garbage left on the pavement.

Della swallowed hard, forcing her chin up. "Lexa. I... I was just setting the table for dinner."

"Did I ask you what you were doing?" Lexa took a slow, deliberate step forward. "You are the slut who slept with my man the other day."

Della flinched, the harsh words stinging her cheeks as if she had already been struck. "Declan is—"

"Shut your mouth when I am speaking to you," Lexa snapped, her eyes blazing with raw fury. "Aren’t you shameless at all? You’re poor. You’re tattered. You’re nothing but the dirt beneath my diamond slippers, yet you chose to sell your dignity so cheaply in such a dirty, pathetic way. Imagine meeting your actual destined mate down the line. What would you tell him?"

Lexa let out a dry, humorless laugh, the sound grating against Della’s ears. "Will you tell him you’ve slept with all the men in the pack house before you even met him? You dirty whore."

Della looked down at the polished floorboards, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She hated how small she felt. She hated how easily this woman could strip away the fragile confidence she had been trying to build. Being mated to the Alpha prince brought a target on her back she was woefully unprepared to carry.

"Declan is my mate," Della managed to whisper, her voice trembling but holding onto that one undeniable truth. "The Moon Goddess chose us."

Lexa’s expression darkened into something demonic. She took another step, closing the distance between them. Her gaze raked over Della again, but this time, her eyes snagged on the black fabric draped over Della’s shoulders. The oversized shirt.

Lexa’s breath hitched, her nostrils flaring. She recognized the cut. She recognized the custom stitching on the cuff. It was the hundred-thousand-dollar designer shirt she had purchased for Declan on his birthday, a token of her unwavering claim on him. And now, this pathetic, sniveling maid was wearing it like a cheap rag.

"You whore!" Lexa shrieked, the sound tearing through the quiet dining room.

Before Della could process the shift in the woman's demeanor, Lexa lunged.

A manicured hand swung through the air in a blinding arc. The impact of the slap sounded like a gunshot.

Della’s head snapped to the side. A burst of white-hot pain exploded across her cheek. The force of the blow knocked her off balance. She stumbled sideways, her hip crashing hard into the edge of the mahogany table, sending silverware clattering to the floor.

"You think you can take him from me?!" Lexa screamed, grabbing handfuls of the black shirt and shoving Della backward.

Della hit the hardwood floor hard, the breath rushing out of her lungs in a painful gasp. She tried to scramble backward, her palms slipping against the polished wood, but Lexa was already on top of her.

The Beta's daughter straddled her, eyes wild with unchecked rage. Lexa’s hand shot out, her fingers twisting into the roots of Della’s hair. With a vicious yank, she pulled Della’s head back, nearly ripping the strands from her scalp.

"Please!" Della cried out, tears spilling hot and fast down her cheeks. "Stop!"

Lexa ignored the plea. She brought her other hand down, slapping Della across the face again, then again. The sharp sting of rings biting into Della’s flesh made her whimper. The metallic tang of blood flooded her mouth as her inner lip split against her teeth.

"You weak, pathetic piece of trash!" Lexa snarled, yanking Della’s hair harder, dragging her across the floorboards. "You think wearing his clothes makes you worthy of him? I will kill you!"

Della sobbed, her hands coming up to weakly push against Lexa’s shoulders, but she had no strength. She had no combat training, no wolf strength to draw upon. She was just a maid being ripped apart by a trained warrior. The pain in her scalp was blinding. She curled into a ball, trying to protect her face, screaming for help as Lexa continued to rain blows down upon her.

"Just make it stop!" Della wailed, her voice cracking in pure terror.

But her weakness only fueled Lexa’s disgust. The cries for mercy sounded pathetic to the Beta’s daughter, reinforcing her belief that this girl was nothing but an insect begging not to be squashed. Lexa grabbed Della’s arm, her teeth bared as she leaned down and sank her teeth into the soft flesh of Della’s forearm.

Della shrieked in agony, thrashing wildly, but she was trapped.

"Lexa!"

A roar shook the very foundation of the pack house.

The dining room doors slammed against the walls with bone-rattling force. Declan stood in the threshold, his chest heaving, his eyes glowing with the lethal, golden light of his inner wolf.

In a fraction of a second, he crossed the room. He didn't bother with words. He grabbed Lexa by the back of her designer gown and hauled her off Della with brutal force, throwing her backward.

Lexa stumbled, her diamond slippers skidding against the floor before she caught her balance. She sprang backward, chest heaving, her eyes darting from Declan to the bleeding girl on the floor.

Declan dropped to his knees beside Della. His heart hammered against his ribs as he took in the sight of his mate. Her lip was bleeding, swelling rapidly. Her hair was a tangled mess, and tears tracked through the dust on her cheeks. She looked so small, so fragile.

"How dare you lay your filthy hands on my mate?!" Declan roared, his face contorting with a rage so pure it made the air crackle. He bared his teeth, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked rapidly beneath the skin. He shot Lexa a wild, murderous stare that would have dropped any ordinary wolf to their knees in submission.

But Lexa did not flinch. She stood tall, adjusting the straps of her dress. Her father had trained her to stare death in the face without blinking, to stand her ground in the face of an Alpha’s wrath.

Bitterness and betrayal clawed at Lexa’s chest. She had loved Declan her entire life. They had history. They had passion. She had left to travel, to train, to become the perfect Luna for him, and she returned to find him claimed by a whimpering floor-scrubber.

"Your mate?" Lexa mocked, her tone dripping with venomous disbelief. She pointed a manicured finger at Della, who was currently pressing her face into Declan’s chest, hiding like a frightened child. "Do you mean that wet puppy?"

Declan growled, a low, vibrating sound that rumbled from deep within his chest, but Lexa kept pushing.

"Wait, don’t tell me that’s our future Luna," Lexa laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. She locked eyes with Declan, watching the golden glow of his wolf flicker as her words hit their mark. "I can’t believe that wet puppy will be the Luna of the Dusk Moon pack. Imagine it, Declan. Look at her."

Declan’s hands tightened around Della, pulling her closer, but he didn't speak.

"She couldn’t even stand up to me," Lexa continued, stepping closer, her voice dropping into a deadly, serious cadence. "She was so scared she had to wait for you to come save her. Look at her acting like a little girl hiding behind her father."

Della sobbed into Declan’s shirt, her fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Lexa shook her head, a look of profound pity crossing her features. "I hope you understand the rules of our kingdom, Declan. What it’s like to be the Alpha of thousands of wolves. How hard it can be to make split-second decisions during times of war and conflict. An Alpha cannot always be there to hold his mate’s hand."

Declan felt a cold knot form in his stomach. The primal need to rip Lexa’s throat out fought against the chilling logic of her words. Rowena’s earlier warnings echoed in his ears.

"This puppy is gonna be killed in the twinkle of an eye," Lexa stated coldly, her eyes boring into his. "And her death will drag you down right alongside her. Are you willing to put the lives of thousands, to put your own life, into the hands of a creature who cannot even throw a punch?"

Declan remained silent. The heavy truth hung in the air, a toxic poison seeping into his mind.

Lexa scoffed, snatching her expensive handbag from the floor. "Now I see you’re infected by this weakness. Gosh, I better get out of here before it rubs off on me."

Without another glance, she turned on her heel and strode out of the dining room, her diamond slippers clicking away into the silence.

Declan stayed on the floor. Della clung to his arm, shivering violently. She acted so small, so dependent. The words Lexa had spoken kept repeating in his mind, wrapping around his heart like a vice.

He didn't let the doubt show on his face. He wrapped his arms around Della's trembling frame, burying his face in her hair. She cried into his chest, the dampness of her tears soaking through his shirt, while he gently patted her back. He promised himself he would protect her, no matter what it cost him.

Hours later, the deep quiet of the night settled over the pack house.

Moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains of Declan’s bedroom, casting long, dark shadows across the floor. The bed was massive, a tangled mess of silk sheets and heavy comforters.

Della lay beside him, fast asleep. The swelling on her lip had gone down slightly, but a faint bruise marked her cheek. She snored softly, a tiny, endearing sound, and snuggled herself deeper into his side. Her small hand rested flat against his bare chest, seeking his warmth even in unconsciousness.

Declan lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day weighed heavily on his mind. The confrontation in the dining room, his mother’s cold demands in her office, Lexa’s cruel but piercing logic.

Suddenly, the sharp vibration of his phone cut through the silence.

It buzzed aggressively against the wooden nightstand, the screen lighting up the dark room.

Declan turned his head, squinting at the glaring light. The caller ID flashed an unknown number. He frowned. As the Alpha prince, late-night calls usually meant border disputes or rogue sightings. He reached out, his fingers hovering over the device.

Della shifted against him, letting out a soft, distressed whimper in her sleep. Her brow furrowed, her grip on him tightening as if she were reliving the terror of Lexa’s attack.

Declan stopped. He looked down at the fragile girl in his arms. She needed him. She needed his presence to feel safe, to heal from the trauma she had endured just hours ago because of him. If he answered that phone, he might have to leave the bed. He might have to leave her alone in the dark.

He couldn't do that. Not tonight.

He pulled his hand back from the nightstand. He let the phone buzz until it finally went dark and silent.

Smiling softly down at Della, he wrapped his arms securely around her, pulling her small frame flush against his chest. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her soothing scent. He would deal with whatever pack business awaited him in the morning. With that comforting thought, he closed his eyes and let the exhaustion pull him into a deep sleep.

Sunlight pierced through the gap in the curtains, hitting Declan straight in the eyes.

He groaned, throwing an arm over his face to block out the harsh morning light. The bed beside him was cold. He reached out blindly, his hand sweeping across the empty space where Della had been resting. She was already up, probably down in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up against the headboard, stretching his stiff muscles. He glanced at the nightstand.

His phone was resting right where he left it.

He reached over and picked it up, tapping the screen to check the time.

His heart stopped.

The screen illuminated, displaying a terrifying notification.

Twenty Missed Calls.

Declan’s eyes widened, the last remnants of sleep vanishing instantly. Twenty calls. All from the same number that had called him in the middle of the night. He quickly checked the settings. The phone had somehow been switched to silent after that first ignored call. He hadn't heard a single one of the subsequent nineteen rings.

A cold, gripping dread coiled in the pit of his stomach. A tight sensation gripped his throat. This wasn't a minor border skirmish. This wasn't a rogue sighting.

His thumb hovered over the screen, shaking slightly as he tapped the number to call back.

The line rang once. Twice.

"Declan..."

The voice on the other end was a shattered, hollow rasp. It sounded like someone who had been screaming until their vocal cords tore, crying for so long that they had nothing left but dry, agonizing heaves.

It took Declan a second to recognize the broken sound.

"Mom...?" he yelled into the receiver, throwing the covers off and jumping to his feet.

"Declan..." Luna Rowena sobbed loudly, a wet, devastating sound that made Declan’s blood run cold. The indomitable, iron-willed Luna of the Dusk Moon pack sounded destroyed. "Declan... you should have come with us... why didn't you come with me..."

The phone slipped a fraction of an inch in his sweaty grip. The walls of his bedroom seemed to close in around him. The crushing realization that his decision to stay in bed, to protect his weak mate from nightmares, had cost him something unspeakable.