The First Taste of Venom

The dining hall smelled of roasted venison, rosemary, and something metallic beneath it all. Zelda’s stomach clenched—not from hunger, but from the memory of wolfbane sliding down her throat in another life. The long oak table was set for three: herself, Grayson, and Delilah. A deliberate arrangement. A deliberate trap.

Lisa hovered by the doorway, eyes downcast, hands folded. “Luna, the Alpha requested your presence. He said… family dinner.”

Family. The word tasted like rust.

Zelda descended the spiral staircase slowly, each step measured. The gown she wore was crimson silk—Delilah’s favorite color, a subtle barb. She had chosen it on purpose. Let them think...