She couldn't have been kept alive and captured just to be tortured. That wouldn't explain why she was in another body. Werewolves couldn't perform sorcery.
Unless they had joined forces with a powerful witch? No. If that were the case, they would have restrained her. No matter how weak she had become, she was once a powerful queen.
The slow creak of it opening shattered the silence. She turned.
A woman in her forties stood in the doorway, her expression stern and cold. The air itself seemed to grow colder, as if she drained the warmth from the room.
She wore a white long-sleeved shirt with a long neckline and a flowing linen skirt that reached her feet. Her hair was pinned into a neat bun.
"You must obey her," the voice warned, tension heavy in every word.
She didn't need to understand its meaning. The threat itself was clear, the mysterious voice and the woman before her who was a werewolf.
The woman's nose twitched, then she moved her gaze to Nalath's hand, which dripped blood. She glanced around to find the reason behind it. Everything was in place except the clerk on the mirror, which had a stain of blood.
So Nalath had tried to hurt herself just because she was dragged back to the pack after she managed to escape. How presumptuous.
"Do you think you can just run from the pack?" the woman calmly asked.
Nalath was supposed to drop to her knees and beg for forgiveness, as escaping the pack was a huge crime. However, she only had that fearless look.
The woman's expression darkened. How could she?
Without warning, the woman's palm shot out and landed heavily on Radella's cheek. The sound echoed in the room.
The force of the hit sent Radella to the ground, and for a moment she felt dizzy and failed to stand up.
She stayed there for a moment. When her mind cleared, she understood what had happened. Such humiliation… Her teeth gritted as she pushed herself to rise and fight back.
"Don't even think about it!" the mysterious groaning voice cut through her rage. "That's the Gamma. You won't win."
She couldn't win against a werewolf without her powers. They were faster, their senses superior to any species, with immense strength and incredible healing. And those traits were only for normal werewolves, not those who called themselves Eonian, who even had elemental abilities.
Biting her tongue, she looked at the woman darkly while saying nothing.
The woman looked down at Radella's defiant eyes.
"In an hour, there is a banquet. The Beta's son's birthday. You know what's expected of you. Don't be late."
With that, she turned to leave. As she did, her expression wrinkled as she noticed changes in Nalath. But for now, she only kept it in mind and left.
Radella's eyes burned as she stared at the door the woman had exited through. She wiped the blood from her mouth after her lip was split.
For some reason, the body was too weak to endure a werewolf's strike.
Then she asked in a subdued tone, "Who is she?"
The room remained silent for a moment before a grumble answered, "Viola Griswold. Nalath's foster mother."
Foster mother? She couldn't remember how a mother acted, but that woman was far from that.
"And… who are you?" she asked, glancing at the empty room.
It was obvious the owner of the voice didn't have any harmful motives toward her, or perhaps it couldn't, even if it wanted to.
The silence lingered for a moment. Then the voice replied, clear and strong, "I am her wolf. Nalath's wolf. The owner of the life you stole, Zaphyra."
Her brows furrowed. What in the world…?
Her wolf? She had heard about how werewolves had two consciousnesses—a beast and a human. But from her knowledge, those two were inseparable. Then how...?
Zaphyra growled. "We have never felt the moon."
What did it mean? It felt like a curse. Her brows crunched in confusion. "You're not complete?"
There was only silence.
She didn't need her answer. She raised her arm and looked at her injury. The open cut was still there. If this body was a complete werewolf, the wound was supposed to have healed by now.
Not that she wanted to depend on werewolf strength to defeat her enemies. But now she didn't have her magic, and to have such a body made her chest burn with frustration.
Time blurred as she tried to take in what had happened to her.
Then she refocused on her current problem and hoarsely asked, "What are you? Omega?"
The position closest to her former status here was Luna. However, to her, Luna was the most pathetic of all. Being Luna required nothing more than being an Alpha's woman.
"You're not saying she's an Alpha's mate?" she added, not hiding her contempt.
"Nalath carries Alpha blood!"
She went still. The daughter of an Alpha? A princess? She imagined the power of commanding a pack... until she suspiciously glanced at the room's worn-out walls and dust. This was no princess's chamber.
With that thought, she stood up. It would be better if she played along until she found a way to get rid of them.
And first, she shouldn't be late at the banquet. Wasn't that what she was told?
She strode into the bathroom. A small, plain room with a couple of spare clothes and towels.
She leaned her hands against the bathtub, staring into the cold, still water with a deep gaze.
Her fingers traced the water's surface, feeling the chill no different from what she felt inside.
She had gained a new body and a chance to correct her mistakes. But behind that possession, who knew whether Nalath might return without her knowing? It didn't matter. For now… she would make good use of it.
Zaphyra's voice trembled. "She's not dead. If she dies, then so do I. I'm still here… Nala is alive."
Her fingers curled. The only annoyance now was that beast inside her, one that could read her mind.
Ignoring Zaphyra's remark, she dropped the dress from her body to take a shower. Before she did, her gaze fell on her arm, where uneven lines covered her skin.
How many times was it?
No wonder she had tried to escape the pack.
"You wouldn't wish to experience that. Don't be late," Zaphyra reminded her.
She frowned. Now, she doubted if she even had a rank in power.
"She is the Luna. But worse than any Omega."