Chapter 203
(Third Person).
“I could have had any daughter,” Reginald spat. “And I ended up with a coward who can’t even eliminate a girl that’s already on the brink of death.”
Wanda’s fingers dug into the fabric of her skirt, her nails threatening to tear through the seams. Still, she said nothing. No matter how hurt she was by her father’s words.
“Listen to me carefully, Wanda,” Reginald growled. “I put you there for a reason. And if you’ve failed me, I will not hesitate to clean up the mess myself. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father,” she replied quietly.
“What about Draven?” he snapped. “What progress has he made in Duskmoor? What has he been up to, exactly?”
Wanda hesitated, clenching and unclenching her fists. Draven had warned her and the others long ago—sternly—that none of the information about the humans or the brewing tension in Duskmoor was to be shared with anyone, not even the council.
The weight of that warning still sat heavy in her memory. And yet her father was a man whose rage could level her entire world.
It was obvious that she feared her father more than she did Draven. Because, unlike Draven, her father was capable of ending her life in mere seconds without batting an eye, and without considering their blood relationship.
Her father was that cruel.
Swallowing her fear, she silently mouthed an apology to Draven. Then she spoke.
“He’s… he’s been working quietly,” she began, voice low. “There’s a suspicion that the humans are experimenting on our kind. There’s a facility—an underground lab hidden somewhere in Duskmoor.”
Reginald fell silent. Wanda could practically hear the gears turning in his mind.
“We haven’t found the lab yet,” she continued, pushing past the guilt rising in her chest. “But he’s certain it exists. There’ve been too many signs. Disappearances, strange sightings… And there have been at least five confirmed near-abduction incidents. Draven, also called Brackham, threatened him.”
The silence on the line was deadly.
Then came Reginald’s voice, low and furious. “And you’re just now telling me this? He hasn’t said a word to the council. Not a whisper. This… this is a threat to the entire werewolf bloodline, and your beloved Alpha is playing cloak-and-dagger in the dark?”
Wanda winced, guilt stabbing through her like a blade.
“He’s not keeping the council in the dark on purpose, Father,” she said quickly. “He’s only waiting for tangible proof. Real evidence that can’t be dismissed. He… he wants to be certain before he makes a move. If he acts too soon, the humans could bury everything and retaliate.”
Reginald didn’t reply immediately. Wanda could sense the wariness in his breath.
She pressed on, seizing the moment.
“There’s more,” she added. “The vampires—they’re real. Draven confirmed it. He plans to capture one of them, and only after that, return to Stormveil to report everything to the elders. That includes the lab, the experiments, the humans… all of it.”
The other end of the line crackled faintly, and then Reginald’s disgust rolled through her ear like a wave.
“The only thing you seem to be good at lately,” he spat, “is defending that Alpha and explaining away his every mistake. You’d think by now you’d have learned to use that sharp little mind of yours to capture his heart. Or—better yet—get rid of the parasite at his side.”
Wanda’s hand clenched into a fist.
“She won’t be queen, Father,” she said, voice barely above a whisper but filled with conviction. “I promise you that. I will take her life, no matter how long it takes.”
“Don’t wait until he ascends the throne,” Reginald snapped. “If she’s still alive by the time Draven wears the crown, you’ve failed. The moment he’s king, she becomes untouchable. And it will become more increasingly difficult to get her. You understand me?”
Wanda’s lungs filled with air, but it barely felt like enough.
“I understand,” she said.
The line clicked, ending the call with a finality that left Wanda staring at her own reflection in the darkened phone screen.
Her fingers trembled.
She lowered the device to her lap and stared at the floor. Her pulse still thundered in her ears. The coldness in her father’s voice, the disappointment laced into every word—none of it was new.
But somehow, tonight, it stung more than usual.
And then, the guilt weighing on her chest had only sharpened with each passing second.
She exhaled deeply and shakily as the silence in her room wrapped around her like a noose.
She needed something—someone—to anchor her back into control.
Without overthinking, she unlocked her phone and dialled her older brother, Levi.
The phone rang three times before his raspy voice answered, laced with fatigue.
“Wanda…? What’s wrong? It’s late.”
“Were you already sleeping?” she asked, voice softer now, almost tender.
A sigh crackled through the speaker. “Yeah… I’ve been training the warriors all week. My body’s done.”
There was a brief pause, then his voice turned more alert. “Are you okay?”
“No,” she murmured, her tone dipping into something more vulnerable. “I’m not.”
Silence settled between them. Then, a gentle request came from her, “Make me feel better, Levi.”
Another beat of silence stretched between them. Then came his sigh, low and conflicted.
“How do you want me to do that?”
“You know how.” Wanda tried to make her voice sound sultry as she bit her lower lip.
Levi let out a deep breath, then said, “Now’s not a good time for that.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she sat up straighter, irritation flashing beneath her lashes.
“What’s that supposed to mean—?”
But then she heard it—a familiar female voice in the background, faint but clear enough:
“Levi, where are you going?”
Wanda froze. Her entire expression darkened, fury boiling under her skin like a geyser ready to erupt.
She didn’t wait for an explanation.
She ended the call, jaw tight and breath shallow. Her fingers curled around her phone until the plastic casing creaked beneath the pressure.
Seething in rage, her eyes blazed as she whispered to herself, “Unbelievable.”