Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance-Chapter 21: Not Safe Anymore

His smile stretched wider — slow, cruel, poisonous.

"Truth," he said, as if tasting the word. "It’s such a fickle thing. You think it gives you power. It doesn’t. It just gives you...pain."

He circled me slowly, his presence wrapping around my throat like a leash. "So now you know. The secret every trueborn has tried to uncover for decades. The secret that would burn this kingdom down if it ever touched sunlight."

He stopped in front of me again, tilting his head. "So tell me, Athena... what are you going to do with it?"

I stayed silent.

He stepped closer.

"You going to run?" he asked, voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "Expose me? Stir up a rebellion? Gather the righteous beneath your banner and come clawing at my gates?"

He smirked. "That’s not you. Not yet."

I stared at him. "You built your empire on a lie."

"And yet it stands," he said smoothly. "While others burned. Maybe the lie is what held it together."

I clenched my jaw, but he didn’t stop.

"You came here seeking power. Protection. Purpose. And I gave you all three," he said. "Not out of charity. But because I saw something in you. A sharpness the rest of them missed."

He paused, eyes narrowing.

"You think you’re here by accident? Or because of your meritorious deeds? Or because you’re such a great fighter?"

He leaned in, voice dropping.

"I let you see the truth because I wanted to see what you’d do with it. Because you intrigue me, Athena. Because I believe you can become something... more."

The way he said it sent a chill down my spine.

He straightened again, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve.

"I’m not asking for your loyalty. Not yet," he said. "I’m simply offering you a moment. To think."

I frowned, still guarded. "About what?"

He smiled. Slow. Dangerous. "About where you truly belong."

My chest tightened.

He stepped back at last, hands sliding into his dark robes. "You’re free to go. For now."

I didn’t move. ƒreewebɳovel.com

"Go on," he said, tone casual. "Breathe the free air. Pretend you’re still your own."

I turned sharply, cloak whipping behind me as I walked past him.

But as I passed, his voice followed — soft, low, and iron-edged.

"I’ll be watching. And when you decide..." he said, pausing just long enough to make me look back.

"Choose well, Athena."

I didn’t run.

I walked.

Every step measured, every breath slow, even as the storm inside me churned hotter with every passing second.

The King’s voice echoed in my skull like a curse I couldn’t shake.

"Choose well, Athena."

The words scraped along my spine.

By the time I reached my quarters, my hands were shaking.

I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, the cold wood digging into my back. My heart thudded, slow and heavy, like something trying to escape my chest.

I peeled off my cloak, the scent of wolfsbane still clinging to it, sharp and bitter. I tossed it aside and crossed to the wash basin, splashing cold water onto my face.

It didn’t help.

I looked up — and caught my reflection in the mirror.

Not the bloodied soldier. Not the broken mate Jesse left behind.

Someone harder. Someone sharper.

Someone the King wanted to mold.

I gripped the edge of the basin, knuckles white.

He let me see everything.

He wanted me to see it.

The truth, the deception, the throne of lies — and then he let me go.

Why?

Because he thinks I’ll come back.

Because he thinks I’m already halfway to becoming like him.

I turned from the mirror and collapsed into the chair by the window. The sun was high now, slanting across the stone floor in thin, sharp lines. It should’ve felt warm.

It didn’t.

It felt like a spotlight. A warning.

My throat tightened, and for one breathless moment, I almost let myself cry.

Almost.

But the tears didn’t come.

I had none left to give.

Only questions.

Only rage.

Only the sick weight of what I now knew.

A knock broke the silence.

Sharp. Two taps. Familiar.

I didn’t answer right away.

Then: "Athena," a voice said through the door. "It’s me."

I rose slowly from the chair, wiping my hands on my trousers as I moved toward the door. I didn’t unlock it at first. Just rested my fingers against the wood, listening.

Cassius knocked once more. "Athena," he said, lower this time. "Open the door."

I hesitated. Then unlatched the bolt and pulled it open.

He stepped inside without waiting for permission, his black cloak stirring behind him like smoke. His face was unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes were serious. Sharper than usual. On edge.

"Close it," he said.

I did.

"What’s going on?" I asked carefully, voice level.

Cassius glanced toward the window, then back at me. He didn’t sit. Didn’t pace. Just stood there — straight, composed, but heavy with something he wasn’t saying.

"Athena," he said finally, "you need to leave."

My stomach tightened. "What?"

"I can’t explain everything," he continued, tone quiet but firm. "But staying here... it’s not safe for you anymore."

I folded my arms. "What changed?"

His jaw tightened, just slightly. "Everything."

I studied him. "You’re being vague."

"I have to be." His voice was colder now, like steel pulled tight. "But I’m telling you this because I owe you more than silence. Whatever you think this place is, it’s worse. And whatever you think your place in it is, you’re wrong."

I didn’t flinch. "You think I’m not strong enough?"

"No," he said immediately. "That’s not it."

"Then why—"

"Because I’ve seen what happens to the strong ones," he cut in. "The ones who get too close to the rot. They don’t burn up. They become it."

My heartbeat quickened, but I kept my expression steady.

"You’re scaring me, Cassius," I said softly.

"Yes, Athena," he replied. "You should be scared."

I swallowed. "Why now? Why all of a sudden? Because I saw you in that state?"

Cassius looked at me for a long moment. "Because something is beginning. Something you shouldn’t be anywhere near."

I held his gaze. "What if I already am?"

He blinked once — a flicker of something I couldn’t name — then shook his head slowly.

"You don’t understand, Athena. I can’t say much, I really want to but I can’t but I am trying to repay the favor of you saving me earlier that’s why I’m telling you to leave."

I stiffened.

He didn’t know what I had seen.

"I don’t want to see you broken," he said, voice low. "Or worse."

For a moment, he almost looked like he’d say more.

But then he stepped back.

"If you’re smart, you’ll leave tonight."

And with that, he turned and walked out, vanishing down the corridor without another word.

I had never been more confused. But I didn’t want to think about it while being in the king’s lair.

I closed the door and locked it behind me. My breath came shallow, my chest tight. He didn’t know what I’d seen in the chamber, but his warning rang clear and sharp in my head.

Something was starting. And I was already in too deep.

I moved fast.

I grabbed only what mattered—my boots, my dagger, a small pouch of herbs and wolfsbane, and the map I’d kept hidden beneath the lining of my travel cloak. No armor. Nothing loud. Just speed.

Every second I stayed was a second closer to being trapped.

The moon had not yet risen, but the palace was already pulsing with movement. I could feel it in the stones, in the air. Like something ancient and angry was waking beneath the Throne. Like the very walls were whispering secrets behind my back.

I slipped out the servant exit two floors down. Hood up, scent masked, body low. I moved like a ghost.

No one saw me.

Or so I thought.

I had barely cleared the palace walls when the first howl echoed across the northern watchtower.

Not a wolf.

A signal.

A warning.

They knew.

My heart kicked into overdrive. I broke into a sprint, bare feet hammering against cold dirt, cloak whipping behind me like a shadow. I didn’t look back. Not yet.

I didn’t have to.

They would be coming.

The moment I hit the tree line, I dove into the underbrush, thorns slicing my arms as I barreled through low branches. I knew these woods—trained in them, hunted in them. I knew where the ground gave, where it rose, where the forest tried to keep secrets.

Still, my legs burned. My lungs scraped. I pushed harder.

A second howl, closer now. Behind me.

They were shifting.

The king must have sent rhem.

I veered left toward the ravine, hoping the river’s roar would drown the trail. I could feel the night pressing in behind me—fangs and claws just out of reach.

I didn’t shift. Couldn’t. Shifting would leave power trails—scent signatures. I had to stay hidden. Stay human. Stay fast.

Leaves shredded underfoot. Twigs snapped like bones. And then—