(Lysander's POV)
I walk through the packhouse halls, my jaw tight, my fists clenched. Beta Mid’s words still echo in my head. I need to see Rachelle for myself. Need to hear whatever twisted excuse she has for this.
I don’t knock. I push the door open, and there she is, sitting gracefully on a velvet chair, her hands resting over her stomach like she’s already playing the part of some beloved Luna. Her eyes lift to meet mine, and a slow, knowing smile spreads across her lips.
“I was wondering when you’d come,” she says smoothly, standing up. She moves toward me with a familiarity that makes my skin crawl.
“Lysander,” she purrs, reaching fo my cheek.
I pull back sharply. “Cut the act,” I snap. “Tell me what kind of deceitful game you’re playing.”
Rachelle tilts her head, feigning inno
