Chapter 170: The Mask Beneath the Scarf
Michelle
The scarf was suffocating. Not because it covered my face — I’d gotten used to that long ago — but because it reminded me every damn second of who I wasn’t allowed to be anymore. Every thread, every itch against my skin screamed, You’re not Michelle. You’re Carolyn.
I crushed the fabric in my hand, the coarse material biting into my palm. The frustration burned hotter than the midday sun seeping through the narrow window slit. My reflection in the glass looked blurred and ghostly — a phantom trapped between shadows and light. That’s all I was now. A ghost.
I turned away sharply as the door creaked open.
Liam stepped in like he owned the place, silent and smooth, the scent of pine and steel following him. His eyes found mine beneath the scarf’s veil, and for a heartbeat, something flickered there — irritation, calculation... maybe both.
"You’re pacing again," he said, voice low, almost lazy, but I could hear the warning beneath it. "That’s not how ghosts behave, Michelle."
"Don’t call me that here," I hissed, throwing the scarf onto the small table. "Someone might hear you."
He smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Relax. No one’s coming down here. You’re safe."
"Safe?" I laughed under my breath. "I was nearly unmasked today, Liam. Thorne came in. He tried to pull off my scarf."
That got his attention. His smirk faded into a scowl. "He what?"
"You heard me. If his Beta hadn’t called him away, I’d be dead right now. Or worse, he’d have known the truth."
Liam’s jaw flexed, and I could almost see the thoughts spinning in that sharp head of his. Then, finally, he exhaled through his nose, the tension easing — just slightly. "Then you’ll have to improvise. Stay clear of them — all three of them. Thorne’s not buying your act, and the longer you linger around him, the more suspicious he’ll get."
I turned away, gripping the edge of the table to steady my shaking hands. "And what am I supposed to do? Hide in the shadows forever? You said we needed to be close to them to finish what we started."
"I said close, not exposed," he countered, stepping forward. His presence filled the small storeroom, cold and suffocating. "You’re too eager, Michelle. That’s going to get you killed."
His words stung more than I wanted to admit. "You think I don’t know that?"
He folded his arms, looking at me with that infuriating calm. "Then act like it. Avoid them completely. Let Josie think you’re just another servant. I’ll handle the rest. I’ll get you longer scarves — something heavier. No one’s going to see your face, not even by accident."
That soothed a small piece of me. I nodded slowly. "Fine. But next time Thorne comes near me, I won’t stand there like a fool waiting to be exposed."
"Good," Liam said simply, though there was something clipped in his tone — something that told me he didn’t like being questioned.
I hesitated before asking, "Why did it take you so long to show up today?"
He gave me a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. "I had to make sure Josie’s training didn’t go well."
I frowned. "You what?"
He shrugged, almost casually. "She was practicing in the field. She’s getting stronger, more in control. I couldn’t let that continue. So I intervened."
Realization hit me like a slap. "You caused that surge? The windstorm?"
He smirked faintly. "Just a little nudge. She lost control all on her own. Thorne thinks she’s unstable now — that’s good for us."
For us.
It should have felt like a victory. It didn’t. I leaned against the window, watching sunlight crawl across the stone wall. "I suppose that means it worked, then."
"It did," Liam said, his tone flat, final.
But I couldn’t stop myself from muttering, "Don’t forget why we’re doing this, Liam. Don’t lose sight of it."
That broke his calm façade. His eyes snapped to mine, sharp and dangerous. "Don’t tell me what to do."
The growl in his voice made my wolf whine inside me, curling back with its tail tucked low. Liam didn’t like being challenged — not even by me.
"I wasn’t—"
"Enough," he cut in. "You’re emotional. Focus on the plan. That’s all that matters."
A silence hung between us, thick with everything unsaid — all the years, the pain, the betrayal.
Then, suddenly, I heard footsteps in the hall. I froze.
"Someone’s coming," I whispered. "Go. Now."
Liam hesitated just long enough to make me curse under my breath. Then he moved, slipping out the back way, quiet as a shadow.
I barely had time to grab the broom before the storeroom door opened.
Marla, the head maid, stood there — round-faced, sharp-eyed, and perpetually annoyed.
"There you are," she snapped, crossing her arms. "You’ve been in here long enough to clean the whole wing."
I lowered my head. "I was almost done, ma’am."
"’Almost done’ doesn’t get the shelves clean," she barked. "You think because of your problems—" her eyes flicked to the scarf, "—that you get to work at your own pace? Think again. I don’t care about your curses or your sad stories. Work faster, or I’ll tell the Alpha you’re lazy."
Every word dug into me, but I swallowed my anger, keeping my tone even. "Yes, ma’am."
She gave me one last glare before stomping off.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands to unclench. She was nothing — just another loudmouthed servant who thought barking orders made her important. But if I wanted to stay invisible, I had to keep pretending.
When I finished cleaning, I dusted off my hands and stepped into the hall, the afternoon air cool against my covered skin.
That’s when I saw him.
Thorne.
He stood near the staircase, talking to one of his guards, that same commanding aura rolling off him in waves. Even from across the hall, I could feel it — that sharp, magnetic pull I’d once hated and craved in equal measure. My chest tightened painfully.
I ducked my head and changed direction immediately, heading toward the kitchen instead. I couldn’t risk another encounter — not now, not when he already suspected me.
The kitchen was warm and noisy, filled with the smells of bread, herbs, and roasting meat. It should have felt comforting. Instead, it made me nauseous. The cook, a plump woman with kind eyes, turned to me when I entered.
"Oh, Carolyn. Good timing," she said cheerfully. "I’m preparing lunch for Lady Josie. Would you fetch the tray from the shelf?"
Josie.
Even hearing her name made something twist in my gut.
I forced a smile beneath my scarf. "Of course."
The cook hummed as she stirred the pot. "The Alphas said she needs something light after training. Poor thing must be starving."
Poor thing. My wolf growled low in my chest, jealous and bitter. Poor thing, she repeated mockingly. The sweet Luna. The beloved mate.
I clenched my jaw, gripping the tray tighter. The Luna. The title that should have been mine.
"I can help," I said quickly, moving closer. "Let me season the stew."
"Oh, that’s kind of you, dear." The woman smiled and turned to grab a towel.
Perfect.
I picked up the salt jar and tipped it into the pot — slowly, carefully — watching the white crystals dissolve in the bubbling broth. Then I reached for another pot, smaller, set aside on the counter. I poured some of the stew into it and seasoned it lightly, tasting until it was just right.
When the cook turned back, I was smiling beneath the scarf, the bitterness sweet on my tongue.
"There," I said softly. "All done."
The cook clapped her hands together. "You’re a treasure, Carolyn. Thank you."
I lowered my gaze humbly. "Happy to help."
She didn’t notice the glint in my eyes or the faint smirk tugging at my lips as I wiped the counter clean.
Let Josie have her light lunch. Let her enjoy it. For now.
Because every small act — every subtle move — was a piece of the bigger game.
And I’d waited too long, bled too much, to lose now.
When the cook turned away again, humming under her breath, I lifted the smaller pot — the one I’d prepared for myself — and hid it behind the breadbasket. The other, the overly salted one, was ladled into Josie’s tray.
I stepped back, watching steam curl up from the dish, carrying the heavy scent of herbs and deceit.
A slow, dark satisfaction coiled through me as I adjusted my scarf and reached for the broom again, pretending to sweep.
They thought Carolyn was a harmless rogue.
They thought the curse kept people from looking too closely.
Good. Let them keep thinking that.
The less they suspected, the easier it would be when the time came to finish what Liam and I had started.
Still, a small voice inside me — the part that had once loved, once laughed, once been human — whispered that I was going too far.
But I silenced it the same way I silenced everything else.
I’d burned that woman away long ago.
Now there was only the mask.
And the mask never faltered.