The training sessions helped, but the isolation was still getting to me. So when the intercom buzzed on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, announcing a delivery, I perked up like a puppy.
"Package for Miss Elena," the guard's voice crackled. "It passed the explosive and metal scans. It's just food."
Killian was in his study on a conference call. I walked to the door as the guard handed over a small, pastel-colored bakery box tied with a white ribbon.
There was a card attached. I recognized the handwriting instantly. It was messy, hurried script.
My father's.
My heart did a traitorous little flip. I opened the card.
"Elena, I know things were said that shouldn't have been. I want to fix this. I remember these were your favorites. Let's talk? - Dad."
I opened the box. Inside sat four perfect lemon tarts, dusting with powdered sugar.
Tears pricked my eyes. I hadn't had these since I was ten, back before my mother died, before the stepmother and Chloe moved in. My father used to bring them home on Fridays.
He remembers, I thought, a lump forming in my throat. Maybe he doesn't hate me. Maybe he's just being manipulated by Chloe.
The smell of lemon and butter wafted up, making my mouth water. The twins were demanding sugar, and this looked like heaven.
I carried the box to the kitchen island. I didn't want to disturb Killian. I just wanted to taste a piece of my childhood, a piece of hope.
I picked up a tart. It felt heavy and warm.
I lifted it to my lips.
Sizzle.
A sharp, searing pain shot across my chest.
"Ouch!" I gasped, dropping the tart. It splattered onto the marble counter, breaking apart.
I grabbed the Moonstone pendant. It wasn't just warm like in the gym. It was hot. Burning hot. Like a coal fresh from the fire. It was vibrating violently against my skin.
Danger.
Before I could process what was happening, the study door flew open with a bang.
Killian stood there, his phone forgotten in his hand. His eyes were wide, the pupils blown fully black.
"Elena!" he roared, crossing the distance in a blur of speed.
He grabbed my shoulders, scanning me frantically. "The stone signaled. Where is the threat? Did someone get in?"
"No," I stammered, holding the burning necklace away from my skin. "No one is here. I was just... I was just going to eat a tart."
I pointed to the smashed pastry on the counter.
Killian turned to look at it. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.
Then, his face went deathly pale.
He didn't say a word. He grabbed a napkin, picked up the broken tart, and brought it closer to his nose. He sniffed again, a low, terrifying growl building in his chest.
"Wolfsbane," he whispered, his voice shaking with rage. "And... Tansy."
"What?" I asked, confused. "It's just lemon..."
"Tansy is an abortifacient," Killian said, looking at me with eyes full of horror. "In high doses, it forces a miscarriage within hours. And mixed with Wolfsbane? It would have killed the pups... and likely you too."
The room spun. I grabbed the edge of the counter to keep from falling.
"But..." I pointed to the card. "My father sent it. He said he wanted to fix things."
Killian snatched the card. He read it, then crumpled it in his fist until his knuckles turned white.
"He didn't want to fix things, Elena," Killian said ruthlessly. "He wanted to fix the 'problem'."
I looked at the innocent-looking pastries. They weren't a peace offering. They were a murder weapon.
My own father.
He chose his reputation over my life. He chose Chloe over his grandchildren.
Something inside me broke. It wasn't a loud break. It was a quiet, final snap. The part of me that was still a little girl waiting for her daddy just... died.
I stopped crying. I wiped my face.
"Killian," I said, my voice sounding hollow and cold.
"I will kill him," Killian growled, turning toward the door. "I will go down there right now and tear his throat out."
"No," I said.
Killian stopped, looking back at me in surprise.
"No?"
"Killing him is too easy," I said. I walked over to the box of poisoned tarts. I closed the lid and tied the white ribbon back into a perfect bow.
I handed the box to Killian.
"Send it back," I commanded. "Send it back with a note."
"What should it say?" Killian asked, watching me closely.
"Tell him I'm not hungry," I said, my eyes hardening. "And tell him to save his appetite. Because at the next Council meeting... I'm going to eat him alive."