h4Chapter 87: Chapter 87: WHAT IS WORTH IT?/h4

    strongMAEVE/strongstrong’S POV/strong

    My lips parted. I wanted to deny it, to spit venom back in his face, to tell him Ivan didn’t deserve my pity or mercy, but the words wouldn’te. My heart pounded too loud. My pulse stung at my temples.

    Francis leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear.

    "So I’ll ask you only once, Maeve, and if you have even a shred of humanity left in you, you’d speak the truth: Who are you working for?"

    My heart mmed hard enough I thought he’d hear it. But I met his eyes, widened mine just enough, and whispered coldly: "No one."

    Silence. Dead, pin-drop silence.

    He searched me, his gaze so sharp I thought he’d peel the truth straight off my skin.

    Then, softly, almost gently, he asked, "Would it be worth it? All of this. Would it be worth it?"

    My throat ached. I curled my lips into a mocking smile to hide it.

    "You ask too much questions, and I’m getting bored, Francis. It’s been a long day. Maybe you should redirect that energy into something useful. Like polishing Ivan’s boots."

    His eyes shed gold, and I almost expected that he would strangle me. But instead, he just stared at me with something colder than fury. Disgust.

    "This isn’t you," he said finally, and I wished I could tell him that Ash Creek made me exactly this. "I don’t know what twisted road you’ve wandered onto, but I hope you find your way back. Because if you don’t... I’ll be there the next time you try something. And I won’t be so merciful."

    My heart stuttered—a new enemy. And the worst one yet. My hands trembled. My chest burned with a mix of fear, anger, and something dangerously close to guilt.

    So Iughed. An empty, mocking sound. "Then I guess I’ll have to make sure you don’t catch me, won’t I?"

    I pivoted on my heel, spine stiff, and walked away before the tightening in my voice betrayed me.

    But the second I was out of sight, the second I turned into a different hallway, my pace broke into a sprint.

    My heart thundered, my eyes stung with hot tears. By the time I reached my chambers, I was already copsing to the ground.

    I dropped, hard, the book sliding from my hand and thudding against the floorboards.

    My palms hit the rug as if bracing against an earthquake, but nothing could stop the violent quake inside me. It tore through my ribs, squeezed my chest until I could barely breathe.

    The sobs came out loudly, painfully—violent and unstoppable.

    Not the quiet kind you can press into a pillow and pretend away, but the ugly, overwhelming kind that leaves your face mascara-wet and your throat bruised.

    My body shook. My heart felt like it was tearing itself in two.

    Francis’s voice reyed, over and over: This isn’t you. The disgust in his eyes. The certainty in his words.

    And wasn’t he right?

    What was I anymore?

    I curled on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, wing at my hair as if I could tear the ache out by its roots. My lungs burned. My chest was too tight.

    What’s worth it, Maeve?

    His question haunted me. What was worth it?

    Devon’s leverage? Ash Creek’s downfall? Or the son I swore to protect?

    I thought of Ivan, avoiding me in the halls, cold eyes that refused to meet mine.

    I told myself I didn’t care. Told myself his distance was a blessing.

    But then Francis said it—said Ivan had been fighting for me, worried sick over Asha. Protecting us still. Even under fire.

    And Nina. Sweet, smiling Nina. She hadn’t told me she lied.

    She hadn’t told me she twisted my words into poison, standing in front of the Council with her hand on the Goddess’s stone, making Ivan out to be a monster.

    That wasn’t the n! Not exactly, at least.

    But regardless... wasn’t that what we wanted? To destabilize him? To push him off bnce so I could move freely? So Devon could win?

    So why did my chest ache like this?

    Why did it feel like I was the one unraveling instead?

    A sound interrupted my sobbing—the soft creak of my door opening.

    I scrambled upright, wiping at my face with the back of my sleeve, trying to erase the evidence. But Nina was already inside, her soft steps pulling my attention to her.

    "Maeve..." she began cautiously, eyeing me with a measured worry. "Are you... crying?"

    Before I could think better of it, I stormed at her. Rage cut through the exhaustion like fire through oil. I grabbed her arms, shoved her back toward the wall.

    "Why did you lie?" I snarled, tears still streaking hot down my cheeks. "Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you stick to the script, Nina!"

    She blinked, startled, but maintained herposure despite how hard my nails dug into her skin.

    "Maeve, you need to calm down—"

    "I cannot be calm!" My scream shook the walls of the room. "Everything is falling apart! This was a mistake—"

    "No." Nina’s voice sharpened, but she stayed infuriatinglyposed. "Everything is working perfectly. Haven’t you heard? Ivan just dered Asha as heir. He imed him as his son publicly!"

    My hands froze. My grip ckened.

    "W-What?"

    Her smile spread slowly, filled with satisfaction.

    "During the pack’s summoning, he punished everyst wolf who mistreated Asha or you. Brutally, Maeve. He made a spectacle of it. Even when he ys house with Serena, he is head over heels for you. Can’t you see? We have him right in the palm of our hands."

    My heart twisted, an unbearable ache almost ripping me apart. The floor seemed to tilt beneath me.

    "W-Where’s Asha?" My head whirled then—only just noticing that my little prince hadn’te running to me. "Where is my son?"

    "He’s with Ivan," Nina said breezily. "Spending the whole day with him."

    The air punched out of my chest. My vision blurred red, and it took everything not to dive and shove her furiously against the wall.

    "Fuck you, Nina." I was already moving toward the door, rage boiling, but Nina darted forward, grabbing my wrist.

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