Chapter 5

Ella's POV

After that night, I deliberately avoided Kane.

Whenever I heard his footsteps approaching, I'd find an excuse to leave—helping in the kitchen, tending herbs in the garden, even volunteering to clean the filthiest stables. Ruby noticed but said nothing, only giving my shoulder a gentle pat when I passed by.

I thought if I was careful enough, I could find some corner in this estate to survive in.

I was wrong.

Within days, Victoria officially moved into the West Wing.

That morning, I was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when I heard a commotion outside. Through the window, I watched a luxurious carriage pull up to the main entrance. The door opened, and Victoria emerged, surrounded by a cluster of maids.

Kane went to greet her personally, gently taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

I stood by the window as the spoon slipped from my fingers, clattering against the floor.

"What are you standing around for?" The kitchen supervisor's voice came from behind me. "Hurry up and clean that."

I snapped back to reality, hastily bending to retrieve the spoon. My fingertips trembled.

From that day on, the atmosphere in the West Wing changed completely. Victoria brought her own servants—all Beta maids, every one of them looking down their noses at everyone. They looked at me with pure disdain, as if I were something filthy.

I tried to avoid them, but the manor was only so large. Encounters were inevitable.

That afternoon, I was carrying a basin of freshly washed linens to hang when I turned a corner and ran into Victoria's maids.

"Well, well, if it isn't Ella," the lead maid said with a cold smile. "How careless."

I quickly bowed. "I'm sorry."

I tried to walk around them, but the maids surrounded me, blocking my path.

"I heard you served the Lord in Blood River territory?" one maid said mockingly. "That must have been... exhausting."

Another maid covered her mouth, laughing. "Ten years of personal service—you must have grown quite close. Too bad Victoria is the mistress here now. A mongrel brought back from enemy territory should know her place."

"Exactly," a third maid looked me up and down. "Look in a mirror and see what you are. A lowly Omega daring to fantasize about staying by the Lord's side?"

I bit down hard, not daring to respond.

"What? Feeling defiant?" The lead maid suddenly reached out and knocked the basin from my hands.

Linens scattered across the floor, several pieces falling directly into a nearby puddle of muddy water.

"Oh my, how clumsy," she said with false surprise. "Those are Miss Victoria's linens. Can you afford to take responsibility for ruining them?"

The other maids burst into laughter.

"What are you waiting for?" the lead maid said coldly. "Pick them up and wash them again. If Miss Victoria finds out you dirtied her things, you'll suffer for it."

They swept away, leaving me alone in the corridor, staring at the scattered linens and that puddle of filth, tears burning in my eyes.

I crouched down and began picking up the linens one by one. My fingertips went white from gripping too hard.

I can't cry.

I can't cry here.

But disaster still came.

The next evening, I was watering flowers in the garden when I heard Victoria's voice behind me: "Ella, come here."

I turned to see her standing in the pavilion, Kane beside her.

My heart sank.

I walked over and bowed respectfully. "Miss, my Lord."

"I heard you were insolent to my maids yesterday?" Victoria's voice was calm, but I could feel the chill in her tone.

"I didn't—"

"You dare deny it?" she interrupted. "They said you deliberately splashed dirty water on them and spoke rudely."

I was stunned. That wasn't what happened at all.

"I didn't..." I looked at Kane, hoping he would speak up for me.

But he only looked at me coldly, as if at a stranger.

"Kane," Victoria turned to him, her voice tinged with grievance, "I know you and she have some... history, but this kind of arrogance makes things difficult for me. You need to give me an explanation."

Kane was silent for a moment, his gaze shifting between me and Victoria. Finally, he said, "Victoria is right. Ella, you've been too presumptuous."

My heart felt like something had struck it hard.

"Slap yourself," he said, his voice completely flat.

I couldn't believe my ears.

"I said, slap yourself." His voice grew colder.

My hand rose but couldn't come down.

Victoria laughed coldly. "It seems you're unwilling. Then let me help you."

She walked up to me and raised her hand, slapping me hard across the face.

Searing pain exploded across my cheek. My head snapped to the side, my ears ringing. But in that instant, I felt something—a scorching, heart-stopping power radiating from her palm.

Not ordinary strength. Fire magic.

The burning sensation wasn't simple pain—it was like a red-hot iron pressed against my skin. Something beneath my flesh felt like it was combusting.

I jerked my head up, staring at her in shock.

"This is a lesson," she said. "Next time you're insolent, it won't be just a slap."

I clutched my face, stumbling backward. My mind suddenly filled with the image of that imprisoned red wolf—the one I'd seen countless times, always holding her head high.

Iron chains wrapped around her body, shackles cutting deep bloody grooves into her flesh. But her eyes still burned with indomitable fire.

I saw a small flame drip from her body, falling onto the chains. I thought it would burst into a roaring blaze and burn through those restraints.

But the flame extinguished instantly, as if snuffed out by some invisible force.

I came back to myself. Victoria was looking down at me.

"What are you standing there for?" she said. "Get out."

I ran, ran desperately until I burst into my small room. I shut the door and slid down against it, sitting on the floor.

My cheek still burned with searing pain, that scorching sensation lingering. I touched it—my skin was alarmingly hot.

Who is she?

That power... I'd seen it in Blood River.

At those most brutal execution ceremonies, Blood River's priests would use an ancient magic—elemental fire. It was a forbidden art passed down through Blood River generations, something only the most core bloodlines could master.

I'd once witnessed a wolf judged a traitor reduced to ash in those flames, not even bones remaining. That fire wasn't ordinary—it could burn into marrow, into souls.

But Victoria was from the Silver Moon pack, daughter of the Beta military commander.

How could she possess Blood River's forbidden magic?