LAYLA'S POV
I have been sensing it for days.
At first, I think it is just me being paranoid, like always. Maybe I read too much into the way Kaiden keeps looking at me intensely, like every move I make needs to be measured and dissected.
But then Killian is watching me too. He is silent, more silent than I have ever seen him. He has never been much of a talker, but lately… his quiet isn't just quiet. It is heavy. It feels like he holds suspicions about me that he isn't ready to talk about.
And Kieran, sweet, gentle Kieran—he has always been the one who offers me a smile when I feel unwanted. The one who speaks to me and is nice to me, to make me feel like I am not completely alone in this palace. But even he has changed.
When I try to talk to him in the corridor one morning, he seems colder than usual.
"Kieran?" My voice is soft. "Did I… did I do something wrong? You've been so distant."
He doesn't meet my eyes. He just shifts his gaze to the floor, murmurs something low under his breath that I can't even catch, and walks away without looking back.
I stand there, rooted to the spot. My chest aches as if someone has squeezed it tight in their hands.
I want to scream. I want to demand answers. But instead, I swallow hard, blink back the sting in my eyes, and carry on with my chores. Because that's what I am good for here—work, service, obedience. I am their mate, yet I am still treated like the lowest of the low. I am a slave in a palace I am supposed to call home.
Later that afternoon, while I prepare linens, Janet notices the look on my face.
"You're frowning again," she says, folding a sheet.
I sigh. "I can't help it. Something's wrong with them… Kaiden, Killian, even Kieran. They're different. They've always been cold but now, they feel more distant. It's like they're watching me with suspicious eyes. I can feel it."
Janet smiles at me, the kind of smile people use when they don't want to feed your worries. "Layla, you're overthinking. You know how they are. The Alphas have always been moody, unpredictable. Alphas, remember? Don't let it get into your head."
Her words should comfort me. But they don't. My gut tells me she is wrong. This isn't just moodiness. This is deliberate.
By evening, I do my best to steady myself. I take in a deep breath, brush my hair, smooth my dress, and force myself to look presentable. I have to prepare myself to serve them dinner. I can't have my emotions all over the place.
But on my way through the halls, I overhear whispers.
"She was near the east tower again…"
"Why would she go there?"
"Maybe she's hiding something."
My stomach drops. I freeze where I stand and press myself against the wall. The servants are talking about me. Why? They are spreading lies.
I haven't been sneaking. I passed by the east tower once—once—while carrying supplies. That was it. But the way they say it… as if I have been plotting something. As if I have been caught doing something forbidden.
My pulse races. Who would spread that? And why?
I shake my head and force myself to keep walking. People will always spread rumours.
Still, I feel uneasy.
During dinner, I serve them as usual. The triplets sit at the long table, eating in silence.
And then, Allora walks in.
Her gown is cut too low. The red silk she wears clings to her curves like it worships her. Her lips are painted in blood red and her hair is curled to perfection. She smiles as she enters. She takes her place at the table as though she belongs here.
I serve in silence. I keep my hands steady even though my chest isn't. I pour Kaiden's wine, lay Killian's plate, and when I reach Kieran, my fingers brush against the rim of his goblet. He doesn't look at me. My heart sinks a little lower.
The meal passes in silence. I try to breathe evenly, try to pretend that I am not nervous for no reason.
Then, suddenly, Kaiden slams his goblet down.
The crack makes me flinch, nearly spilling the tray in my hands. The hall freezes. Even the servants stop moving.
"Why," Kaiden's voice echoes in a demanding tone, "were you sneaking around the east tower?"
My heart twists. For a moment, I can't breathe.
"What?" My voice is small. "I wasn't—"
Before I can finish, Allora speaks.
"Oh, Kaiden," she coos. Her tone is filled with false sweetness. "I didn't want to say anything… truly, I didn't. I thought it might hurt her. But since you've brought it up…"
She looks at me with a wicked smirk. "I noticed it too. Layla wandering near the east tower, acting… suspicious. I kept quiet because I thought maybe she had her reasons. I was only trying to protect her."
Protect me. The way she says it twists the knife deeper. It makes her seem like she is the noble one, covering for me when I am supposedly betraying them.
My hands shake. "That's not true!" My voice rises. "I wasn't sneaking! I passed by once—once! I had linens to deliver—"
Kaiden's face is unreadable, but his eyes look at me with accusation.
Killian leans back in his chair, watching me with those dark eyes of his.
And Kieran… oh, Kieran. His eyes meet mine for the first time in days, but they aren't warm anymore. They are cold. Hard. Like I am nothing more than another servant, a nuisance who has betrayed his trust.
My throat tightens. "You don't believe me."
Silence.
Not one of them speaks. Not one of them stands for me.
The humiliation burns hotter than fire. My chest heaves and I am filled with so much anger and pain. I slam the tray down on the nearest table. My voice breaks as I whisper, "Fine. Believe what you want."
And then I storm out.
In my room, I sit on the edge of my bed. My hands tremble and my heart pounds in my chest.
I cry angry tears. I am tired. I am tired of it all.
I replay every second over and over. The look in their eyes. The silence. The way even Kieran—my Kieran—doesn't speak for me.
Why? Why are they so quick to believe the worst of me?
Tears fall from my eyes but I shove them down. My anger burns brighter than my sadness. If they want to see me as a liar, as a traitor, then let them. I won't beg. I won't grovel for their trust if they are unwilling to see the truth in my eyes.
I clench my fists, staring at the cold wall of my room.
No more.
I swear I won't beg for their love. Not again.