Eleven Nights to Ruin Me

Sabrina stayed down. Her breath came through her nose, fast and shallow. She didn’t move.

Nina looked at her parents. They were on their knees with their hands pressed together in front of their chests, eyes cast somewhere near Nina’s feet. Marjorie’s shoulders were shaking. Nina was sure it wasn’t from cold.

She scoffed.

"Look at me," she said.

They hesitated. Then lifted their eyes.

The guard released Sabrina, and she raised her head slowly, her eyes finding Nina’s with a glare that still had heat in it despite the red swollen bump rising on her forehead. Her shoulders trembled. Her teeth were sunk into her lower lip hard enough to leave a mark.

Nina looked at her for a long moment.

’’Look at me carefully."

Her voice dropped, something sinister threading through the quiet of it. She leaned forward slightly and tilted her head. "I am the Luna of Vermont Pack. Nina Vermont." A pause. "The Nina you know is gone, and you will act accordingly from now on, Is that clear?"

They didn’t move.

"Is. That. Clear?"

Their faces went pale. They nodded, eyes dropping back to the ground. Marjorie looked white, her veins popping on her forehead.

Sabrina’s shoulders were still shaking.

Nina leaned back in her chair and let the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable, until she could see Jonathan’s fingers start to curl against his thighs.

"Sit," she said. Lazily. Like she was tired of looking at them on the floor. "Your legs must hurt."

Jonathan got up first, slow and stiff, pulling Marjorie up with him. Sabrina followed without a word, settling into her seat with her eyes fixed somewhere on her dress, like if she stared hard enough at the fabric she could disappear into it.

Nina let a few seconds pass.

"I’ll forgive you," she said. "On one condition."

Marjorie’s eyes lifted. Her brows pulled together.

"What condition," Jonathan asked. His voice came out careful.

Nina looked at him. Then her eyes drifted to Sabrina.

Then she flicked her finger once, and tilted her head,

"Sabrina becomes my maid."

Sabrina’s head snapped up. The color left her face fast. Her arms trembled as her eyes cut to her mother, then back to Nina.

"What?" Her voice broke on the single word. "You cannot do that —"

Marjorie was already on her feet, her chest rising and falling rapidly, something wild moving behind her eyes. Nina raised her eyes slowly to the woman. Just looked at her.

Marjorie sat back down.

"Nina —" She caught herself. Swallowed. "Luna." The word came through her teeth. "Sabrina is a noble. She cannot be made a maid —"

"You don’t want to?" Nina raised a brow. A second passed. "Alright." She made to stand. "She can die for treason."

"No —"

Jonathan’s voice rang out before she’d even fully risen. He stumbled forward, his head dropping low, his hands fisted at his sides. Nina watched the muscle in his jaw work. Watched his knuckles go white.

She held back the laugh that rose in her throat. He couldn’t stand the thought of Sabrina scrubbing floors, but he had watched Nina walk to her death without a single blink.

The thought settled in her chest like hot coal, burning at the edges.

She kept her face smooth.

"She’ll stay," Jonathan said finally. His voice came out broken.

"Father —" Sabrina’s eyes snapped to him, clouding fast.

He didn’t look at her.

She turned to Marjorie. Her mother’s gaze was fixed somewhere past her left shoulder.

Sabrina’s face went the color of ash as the understanding moved through it. Slowly. Then all at once.

She turned back to Nina.

"You cannot do this." Her voice cracked. "Nina, please —"

Nina smiled. She glanced to the guard. "She stays here. Take her to the maids’ quarters. Her family can bring her things later."

She stood and walked out.

Sabrina’s voice rose behind her, high and breaking, and Nina kept walking until the door closed and swallowed it.

She stopped just outside.

The corridor was empty. Gold light fell through the high windows in long slanted columns, and the air here was cooler, quieter, stripped of everything that had just happened in that room. Nina stood in it and exhaled slowly through her nose.

Her hands had curled into fists at her sides without her noticing. She looked down at them, at her knuckles going white, and forced her fingers open one by one.

She stood there until her breathing evened.

Then she walked.

The corridor stretched long ahead of her, the gold light shifting as she moved through it. She counted her steps without meaning to. Four. Five. Six.

Her feet slowed.

Stopped.

Dante.

He was standing against the wall with his arms loose at his sides, his brown eyes on her, steady and open. She could tell from the stillness of him that he had been there for a while. Long enough to have heard. Long enough to have decided to stay anyway.

"Nina," he said. His voice carried something she didn’t want to name.

He was looking at her the way he always had — completely, with nothing pulled back, everything right there on his face like he had never learned to hide it. Like he had never needed to.

She dragged in a breath and looked away from him. She walked forward. She reached where he stood and moved to pass him.

"Nina."

He pushed off the wall and stepped into her path. Close. Close enough that she had to stop or walk into him.

She stopped. Her eyes lifted to his. The glare came up automatically.

"Let’s talk," he said.

"We have nothing to talk about." She held his gaze. "And I am the Luna now. You address me properly."

Something moved through his face. Then went flat. His hands pulled in tight, fingers curling slow.

"You could have told me." His jaw shifted as he stepped closer, his voice dropping low. "I would have found a way."

A beat of quiet.

Nina scoffed. Short and dry.

"Found a way," she repeated. She tilted her head back slightly to keep his eyes. "To do what, Dante. Run with me?" She let the question sit there. "Where would we have gone?"

He looked at her. His eyes dropped in a way that made something tighten in her chest. She looked past his shoulder.

"Do you love him?"

She went still.

Her eyes drifted back to him before she could stop them. Her heart had picked up its pace.

He was watching her face. Reading it the way he always had, like he already knew the answer and was only asking to hear her say it. His jaw was tight. His hands had opened at his sides, fingers loose, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Her chin lifted.

"It does not matt —"

"Answer me." He stepped toward her.

Nina stepped back. Her fingers pressed into her palms.

At the far end of the corridor, behind a closed door, Rodrigo stood with his hand around the handle.

He didn’t move.

Nina held Dante’s gaze for a long moment. His eyes hadn’t left her face.

"No," she said. "I don’t."

His chest rose. He went very still and she watched it move through him — all of it, relief and grief wound so tightly together she couldn’t find where one ended. His hands lifted slightly toward her.

She stepped back before he could reach her.

"But I am the Luna." Her voice came out even. Her hands stayed at her sides. "I don’t have a choice. So whatever this is — it’s over. There can’t be anything between us. Not anymore."

Behind the door, Rodrigo’s fingers closed around the handle.

Slowly. Then tighter. His knuckles turned white against the wood.

He stood there.

The corridor on his side was silent. His own breath was the only sound.

Then his hand opened. Fell away from the door.

He turned and walked back down the corridor, his footsteps quiet against the stone, and did not stop until he reached the far turn and disappeared into the dark of it.