My chest tightens as I watch the easy exchange between them. Min’s casual affection, Esmerelda’s quiet acceptance. She claims Min isn’t just staff, and seeing this, I believe her. Truth be told, she hasn’t treated Min like anything other than family.
My wolf huffs in agreement, ears twitching at the sight of Esmerelda’s smile—soft, unguarded, a glimpse of the girl she said she used to be. It hits me harder than it should.
Leonard walks in and snags the bottle off the bed. “This guy doesn’t need any more potions for his hair. You should see how many he packed. I bet he uses more product on his hair than you do, Esme.”
“Fuck you, that’s not true,” I snap back, glaring at him.
I don’t know why the idea of Esmerelda thinking I’m vain grates on me so much. Because I do take care of myself. I always have. An alpha doesn’t get to look unkempt, not if he wants to be taken seriously. But the thought of her picturing me lingering in front of a mirror longer than she does, of her tucking me away in her mind as shallow or self-absorbed…
It unsettles something deep inside me.
She probably already knows how much I fuss—she was there on our honeymoon, after all. Still, it rankles, and the thought of her dismissing me as the kind of man who cares more about his appearance than his pack nags at me like a stone in my shoe.
Leonard shoves to his feet with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to grab something to eat before we’re subjected to more of this dress-up nonsense. Anyone want anything?”
Esmerelda and I both shake our heads. My stomach has been a hollow pit for days, but even if I was hungry, appetite feels like a luxury I can’t afford.
Still, my gaze flicks to her. She’s too pale, sharper around her face than she was a few days ago. It’s as if the grief is stripping her down to bone. I wish she’d eat, but I dare not make any suggestions that imply she can’t take care of herself. I don’t want to lose a limb.
When Leonard heads out, the room falls silent. We are fully aware we are alone. I hear him arguing with Minerva about the prosthetics she wants to put on him.
Esmerelda chuckles softly, the sound unexpected, like sunlight peeking through clouds. “You know, you’re giving me shit about staff, but you have a guy who opens your door for you.”
I chuckle. “That’s true. If it makes me seem less of a jerk, I used to try answer the door myself. It didn’t go over well.”
“I know what you mean. I made that same mistake. I thought he was either going to kill me or burst into tears.”
“My money is on the latter. He takes it as a personal attack if he can’t do his job.”
She smiles and it lingers. Something in my chest loosens with it. Despite everything—despite the losses still raw in our bones, despite the shadow of danger pressing in—we sit there, trading stories about a man who cares too much about doors. And forthe briefest moment, it almost feels normal. Almost like we’re just two people, laughing in the middle of the wreckage.
And that fleeting taste of normal is enough to make my wolf go still and breathe deep, as if daring to believe it could last.
Minerva walks back in the room. “Right, Esme. I’m ready to carry on. Eat, go take a shower, get ready. When I’m done with Marcus, I’ll start on your glamour.”
Esmerelda rises from her seat, and I swear she does it reluctantly. I feel the same. It was… nice, sitting here with her. Our guard had been down, and for a moment, it almost felt like normal conversation. Like what we might have had if we weren’t sworn enemies.
Minerva takes Esmerelda’s place and deftly finishes the last of my braids. She secures them with practiced hands, then reaches behind her for a wig cap, stretching it over the braids before settling the black wig on top. If I were outside at night, I’d be completely camouflaged.
I stare into the mirror, startled. I hardly recognize myself. More than that, I see a younger version of my father staring back at me. The sight punches me in the chest, a harsh reminder of everything at stake.
“You ready to look like someone different?” Min asks.
I already feel like I don’t fit in my own skin. I nod, feeling less like myself as the moments pass.
She arranges the prosthetics before handing me a potion. “Drink this and let the glamour begin!” She sounds like the ringleader in a circus, and I smile as I pop the cork and pour the violet liquid down the hatch. Min begins placing the glamoured prosthetics on my face. First, she covers my brows, making them appear thinner. Then, my cheekbones shift subtly. My chin dimple disappears. She flattens my nose, slips in blue contacts, even adds a glamoured ear piercing that looks real but is only a clip-on. Piece by piece, she transforms me into someone else.
She really is a genius. I make a mental note that we might be able to use her skills again when we needed to smuggle clients under the radar.
With every adjustment, the reflection in the mirror looks less and less like me. It’s unnerving, and my wolf doesn’t like it. He stirs restlessly beneath my skin, as if each change strips away more of who we are.
“Do you want a break before we get to the outfits?” Min asks gently. “I haven’t seen you eat anything today. Honestly, not much since you got here.”
“I haven’t really been hungry.”
Her eyes soften. “Yeah. I know what you mean. It’s hard to eat with all this weighing on you. It has to be crushing.”
She’s taking a risk, saying that to an alpha, but she isn’t wrong. The responsibility is like an elephant sitting on my chest. I drag in air and it never feels like enough, like my lungs can’t expand fully under the weight of grief and expectation.
