Isabella's POV
I knew something was wrong the moment the guards led me into the main kitchen.
The place was empty.
No clattering pans.
No voices.
No other maids.
Just silence.
Then Leon walked in.
His presence filled every corner of the room. His golden eyes locked on me like he'd already decided how he wanted to ruin my night.
"Tonight," he said, "you'll cook dinner for the palace."
My stomach dropped. "Just me?"
"Yes. I gave the maids the night off."
He stepped closer.
"I want to see how well you serve under pressure."
I hated how calm my voice sounded. "What do you want me to make?"
He smiled, slow and wicked. "A full meal. Meat. Bread. Soup. Everything. And it better satisfy my brothers."
His brothers.
The three Lycan princes.
Damon. Kennedy. Rogers.
Each one as cruel as Leon in their own way.
My pulse kicked up, but I bowed my head anyway. "I'll do it."
Leon didn't leave right away. He stood close enough that I felt his breath brush my cheek.
"I'll be watching," he murmured.
Then he walked out, leaving the kitchen heavy with tension.
I cooked nonstop for two hours.
Sweat rolled down my back. My arms burned. My hands shook at times from how fast I had to work. I chopped vegetables, boiled broth, roasted meat, kneaded dough, stirred sauces. There was no time to rest.
Every sound in the palace felt like a threat.
What if the princes hated it?
What if Leon claimed I poisoned them?
What if this was another one of his traps?
I pushed the thoughts aside. I needed to survive.
By the time I was done, my legs were trembling.
A guard opened the dining hall doors for me. "Serve them," he said, smirking.
Right.
As if I had a choice.
The princes were already seated when I entered.
Damon lounged at the head of the table, boots up, dark hair falling over his eyes. He looked bored but dangerous.
Kennedy leaned back in his chair, spinning a knife between his fingers like he wanted an excuse to use it.
Rogers, the youngest, stared at me with open disdain, like I was dirt on the floor.
None of them spoke as I placed the dishes in front of them.
Then Damon sniffed the air.
"She made all this alone?" he asked.
Kennedy laughed. "Leon loves breaking his toys."
I kept my eyes down. I could feel the heat in my face, the humiliation crawling under my skin.
"Eat," I said quietly.
Damon tasted the soup first. His eyebrow twitched. "Not terrible."
Kennedy tasted the roasted meat. "She didn't poison us. Too bad."
Rogers reached for his drink. I knew the moment his expression shifted that something bad was coming.
"Oops," he said, lifting the glass over my head.
The cup tipped.
Juice splashed down my face.
Cold. Sticky. Running down my neck.
The princes burst into laughter.
I didn't move.
Rogers smirked. "Clean it up."
Kennedy tossed a napkin at me. It hit my cheek and fell to the floor.
"Use that," he said.
I bent down and wiped the floor. My knees pressed against the hard tiles. My hands shook, but not from fear.
From anger.
Damon watched me with unreadable eyes.
"She's quiet," he said. "Leon hates quiet things."
Kennedy grinned. "Then he'll beat it out of her."
I kept wiping.
Kept enduring.
Because breaking here meant dying here.
When the floor was clean, I stood and bowed again. My hair was dripping juice. My face burned.
"Anything else?" I asked.
Rogers snorted. "She actually asks for more punishment. Leon really picked a strange one."
Kennedy twirled his knife again. "Go get the king. Tell him his food is ready."
I nodded and turned toward the door.
But Damon spoke, voice sharp and low.
"Make sure you knock," he said. "He gets angry when anyone enters without permission."
I knew what he meant.
He wanted me to be scared.
I was.
But not of knocking.
Of what Leon wanted next.
When I reached Leon's chamber, my heart was pounding so loud it hurt.
I stood outside his door for a breath.
Then another.
Then I knocked.
"Enter," he said.
His voice was calm. Too calm.
I pushed the door open.
Leon stood by the window... yes, just as always, shirt half undone, hair messy like he'd just run a hand through it a hundred times.
He didn't turn around when he spoke. "Did you serve my brothers?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"They ate."
He turned then. His gaze slid over the juice on my clothes, my wet hair, my shaking hands.
"Rogers?" he asked.
"Yes."
Leon exhaled slowly. "He likes testing how much you can stomach."
"I'm used to it."
His head tilted. "Are you?"
I didn't answer.
He nodded toward the tray in my hands. "Bring my food here."
I walked it over and set it on the small table near his bed. Leon sat down in a slow, controlled movement, like a predator settling in to watch something struggle.
"Stay," he said.
I swallowed. "Do you need anything else?"
"I want you to talk."
My stomach tightened. "About what?"
"You," he said simply. "Where you're from. Who raised you. What your home pack was like."
No.
This was the real trap.
He wanted to corner me.
Catch me in a lie.
Break into the parts of my past I needed to protect.
I forced my voice steady. "There's nothing interesting about my past."
Leon's eyes sharpened. "Everything about you is interesting. You're the only maid I've ever seen who refuses to crumble. That means something."
He leaned back, studying me.
"What pack were you born into, Isabella? Evergreen?"
"No."
"I... just visited that pack."
"So... what pack are you from?!"
I met his eyes. "A small one."
"Name?"
"You wouldn't know it."
His jaw flexed. "Try me."
I shook my head.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You speak like someone raised with discipline. Your posture is too straight for a maid. Your movements too careful. That's not village training. You had rank once."
My chest tightened.
He noticed.
Leon's smile appeared, slow and dangerous. "I'm right."
"No," I said softly. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?"
He stood.
My heartbeat jumped.
Leon walked toward me until I had to tilt my head back to keep looking at him. He trapped me with his eyes before he even spoke.
"You're hiding something," he whispered. "I can taste it in your fear."
I stayed perfectly still. I had to. One wrong word could ruin everything.
"I'm only hiding one thing," I said.
"And what is that?"
I held his gaze.
"How much I hate being here."
Leon's breath hitched.
Not in anger.
In surprise.
Then he laughed softly, almost under his breath.
"You're bold tonight," he said.
"You asked me to talk."
His hand lifted suddenly. Instinct made me flinch.
He froze.
"I wasn't going to hit you," he said quietly.
I didn't respond.
He stepped back, something unreadable passing through his eyes.
"You're impossible," he murmured. "I try to break you… and you slip out of my hands every time."
"That must be frustrating," I said before I could stop myself.
Leon stared at me.
For a moment, he looked like he didn't know whether to drag me closer… or snap my neck.
Then he exhaled.
"You can go," he said.
I didn't move.
He frowned. "What?"
"You haven't eaten."
"I'm not hungry anymore."
He turned away from me, but his voice came quiet, almost thoughtful.
"You're different from what I expected."
"So are you," I said.
He glanced at me over his shoulder.
"Good or bad?"
I hesitated.
Then spoke the safest truth.
"Both."
His eyes darkened.
"Leave," he said again, voice low.
I bowed and walked out quickly.
But the moment the door closed behind me, my hands started shaking.
Because Leon wasn't losing interest.
He was getting closer.
And closer.
And closer.