19: The Door

HERA

The voice was back, crawling into my mind like a snake. Its tone teasing, mocking.

"Enjoying your stay, Hera? How does it feel to be brought so low? A rightful queen reduced to scrubbing floors…"

I jolted awake, anger flashing through me.

I tried to concentrate, to know where that voice was coming from, but when I closed my eyes, all I could see was the door at the end of the hallway.

The one Atticus forbade me from going to again.

I wanted to storm to the source, to where this taunting presence was coming from, but on my way down the hall, I nearly collided with the last person I wanted to see.

Atticus.

Okay, he might not be the last person I want to see, but he was a close second.

He was tall, imposing as ever, his sharp eyes locking onto mine with that familiar glint of control. I squared my shoulders, refusing to show even a flicker of vulnerability in his presence.

This was the man who humiliated me, who made me dance for him and those Alphas like I was nothing.

A man who literally fucked and discarded me like a piece of trash.

"Atticus," I said coolly, stepping directly into his path, "when is the marriage and coronation happening?"

There was no hesitation in my voice, only a thinly veiled challenge. I didn’t care anymore about playing meek or waiting for him to act.

We had an agreement and I’m yet to see him fulfil the end of his bargain.

Atticus' lips twisted into a cruel smirk, his gaze drifting lazily down my body, taking in the sight of the maid’s uniform that clung to me in all the wrong ways.

I shivered under his gaze.

"You look better in those clothes, Hera," he drawled, voice dripping with condescension. "Better suited to a mop than a crown."

His words stung, even though I had expected them. Still, I clenched my fists at my sides, refusing to flinch under his scrutiny.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, dark, the scent of him filling the narrow space between us.

For a brief moment, the world around us seemed to still.

"Tell me, Hera," he continued, his tone turning more amused, "do you really think you belong on the throne after everything?" His eyes glittered with something darker, as if daring me to push back.

I gritted my teeth.

"I think you’ve found your place. Serving me. Cleaning up after my people."

My jaw tightened as I held his gaze, rage simmering just beneath my skin. Every word he spoke felt like another chain wrapped around my throat, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter.

"We had an agreement, Atticus," I whispered, my voice low but laced with venom. "We have to do this to reclaim what is mine. You can’t keep wasting my time with all this petty bullshit.” I spat out.

For a heartbeat, his eyes flickered with something—annoyance? Amusement? It was hard to tell.

But instead of responding, he simply turned on his heel, leaving me standing in the hallway, seething.

"Enjoy your duties, Hera," he tossed over his shoulder without looking back.

I glared at his retreating form, the urge to tear into him clawing at my chest, but I knew better than to act recklessly.

I was walking on a tightrope here.

As I walked through the corridors of the palace, I realised something strange.

I haven’t seen Lilith.

Not that I missed her, but her absence felt… unusual. Normally, she was everywhere, causing trouble or making sure I suffered in some way.

Today? Nothing.

I needed to know where she was, so when I finally crossed paths with Agatha in the kitchen, I decided to ask her.

“Hey, have you seen Lilith today?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Agatha looked around nervously before leaning closer.

“Lilith’s been locked up,” she whispered.

I blinked.

“Locked up? By who?”

“By Atticus,” she said quietly, as if speaking it aloud might cause trouble. “She pushed him too far, and now he’s punishing her.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Lilith, locked up by Atticus?” It sounded too good to be true. “What did she do?”

Agatha’s voice dropped lower.

“It’s no secret that she’s been trying to replace Rachel. Since her death, Lilith’s been trying to worm her way into Atticus’ life, acting like she’s already his mate.” Agatha rolled her eyes.

I let out a humourless laugh.

“And how’s that going for her?”

Agatha smirked.

“Well, she’s in the dungeon, so you tell me.” Then her face turned serious. “But, Hera… There are rumours. Some people think Lilith hated Rachel, that she might’ve been involved in her death.”

I frowned.

Lilith, killing Rachel? It seemed possible, but...

“Rachel was killed at Shadow Claw, wasn’t she?” I asked, my mind going back to the night she was found. It had been brutal, unnatural.

Agatha nodded. “It wasn’t a normal death. It was a death by a dark magic called Mors Umbra,” she explained as if I didn't know what Mors Umbra was. It was a forbidden magic in my pack and only members of my pack were capable of it. That's why I was so sure her death wasn't caused by a member of my pack.

It didn’t just kill; it cursed the user too, mirroring the pain and death onto them, slowly dragging them into torment.

“That’s why it’s hard to believe Lilith was involved,” I murmured. “She can't even perform that kind of magic and even if she got someone from my pack to do it for her, I’d know. Mors Umbra was too powerful to be concealed from my eyes.”

“Maybe,” Agatha said. “Or maybe there’s more to it. Someone else could’ve been involved. But Rachel dies, and Lilith’s immediately trying to take her place? Something doesn’t add up.”

I nodded, my mind racing. There was a connection somewhere, I just didn’t know where yet. And if it wasn’t Lilith who killed Rachel, then who?

“Anyway, just be careful, Hera,” Agatha squeezed my arm. “Lilith will be back, and when she is, she won’t take this lightly.”

I nodded, appreciating the warning. But one thing was clear—Rachel’s death wasn’t as simple as it seemed, and I was determined to find out who was responsible.

****

Later that evening, I wandered the halls, still trying to make sense of everything that I discussed with Agatha.

I haven’t seen Lilith since Agatha told me she was locked up, and the palace felt strangely quiet without her obnoxious presence lurking around.

As I passed the hallway near the old wing, something caught my eye. The door.

That door.

The secret room.

I forgot about it because I spent the entire day trying to decipher who was responsible for Rachel’s death.

Now I was standing right in front of it.

I paused, staring at it. I have always wondered what was behind it, but something about tonight felt different, like it was calling to me.

My pulse quickened as I glanced around.

No one was around.

This was my chance.

Without thinking too much, I walked toward the door and fished a hairpin out from my messy bun. I stared at the lock for a moment, then slid the pin inside, my heart racing.

I have done this enough times to know my way around a lock. A few twists, a couple of turns, and a soft click sounded.

I pushed the door open slowly, my breath catching as the room revealed itself.

Whatever secrets were hidden in here, I was about to find out.