The Apocalyptic Queen's Werewolf Journey (Thora and Darius) novel Chapter 9

**Shadows Hearts by Joseph King**
**Chapter 9: Could It Be Him?**

Thora’s POV:

“You!” The accusation hung in the air like a thunderclap, electrifying the tension in the room.

Norman stood frozen, his lips pressed together, unable to articulate the storm brewing inside him. His expression darkened, shadows of fury flickering across his face.

Hazel, ever the opportunist, seized the moment with glee. “Dad, she actually dared to speak back to you! Clearly, she’s been tainted by those rogues!” Her voice dripped with malice, a calculated move to fan the flames of conflict between us.

I chose not to engage in her petty game. Instead, I confronted Norman directly. “Last week, in the afternoon, you handed that blond rogue a bag of moon crystals. The security cameras behind the school must have captured the entire exchange.” My words were sharp, each one carefully chosen to cut through the chaos.

This revelation wasn’t just a casual observation; it was a haunting memory from the original Thora’s life.

I recalled the scene vividly—how she had witnessed the transaction unfold. She had considered warning Hazel, imploring her to steer clear of those dangerous rogues. But Hazel had always dismissed her, casting her aside with a coldness that left Thora feeling invisible. So, she had kept her silence, choosing to walk away instead of risking further alienation.

The original Thora had never fathomed that Hazel’s dealings with the rogues were part of a sinister plot aimed directly at her.

“Don’t you dare slander me!” Hazel’s complexion drained of color, but she fought to maintain her composure, her voice trembling with indignation.

At that moment, a servant entered the room, holding an envelope with an air of urgency.

“Mr. Marlon, this just arrived. They insisted it be delivered to you in person.”

Norman snatched the envelope, ripping it open with a fervor that hinted at desperation. As the contents spilled forth, a cascade of photographs fluttered to the floor.

The instant he laid eyes on the images, rage consumed him. He stormed toward Hazel, his hand connecting with her cheek in a sharp slap that echoed in the silence.

Her face turned a vivid shade of crimson as she staggered back, stunned. “Dad, why did you hit me?” she gasped, disbelief etched across her features.

“How dare you even ask?” Norman’s voice thundered as he flung the photographs at her. “Look at what you’ve done!”

I glanced down at the scattered images, my heart racing as I processed the evidence. They depicted Hazel conspiring with the rogues, her treachery laid bare for all to see.

A wave of surprise washed over me. I had just mentioned the security footage—how had these photographs arrived so fortuitously, as if orchestrated by fate itself?

“This is your idea of ‘I don’t know them’? You’re pure-blood, yet you associate with rogues. If you don’t feel ashamed, I can’t help but feel disgust for you!” Norman’s voice rose, a mixture of fury and disappointment.

“No, Dad! These are fabricated! Thora and the rogues must have colluded to frame me!” Hazel cried out, desperation lacing her words.

“You really think I can’t discern a fake photo?” Norman shot back, incredulous.

“From this day forward, you are grounded for two months. Aside from school, you will not step foot outside this house. Additionally, your allowance is revoked for the next six months. You will reflect on your choices here. If I ever catch you entangled with rogues again, you will face punishment according to pack law!”

“Dad…” she began, her voice faltering.

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