The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate
Chapter 75: Planning A Heist

Chapter 75: Planning A Heist

And she gives up.

Esme found herself sprawled on all fours in the middle of the training ground, panting like a fish out of water.

Her elegant gown had long been traded for a white tunic, fitted breeches, sturdy boots, gloves, and a head wrap that was now askew. A wooden sword lay discarded at her side, now a pitiful reminder of her earlier enthusiasm.

With a groan, she finally gave up and collapsed flat on her back, her arms and legs spread wide as if she were making a dirt angel. At that moment, she didn’t care about the six-foot-tall man looming over her, patiently waiting for her to pull herself together, and the ground, at that point, felt like home to Esme.

"How in the moon goddess’s name did Finnian pick up all these skills in just... three years?" Esme mused aloud, her voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief. Donovan, who stood nearby with his usual calm, replied.

"You come from a pack of warriors. It’s in your blood."

"Maybe I was adopted," Esme winced as she sat up, rolling her stiff neck, and her muscles screamed in protest. The little training she’d just completed felt more like punishment, and this was just a simple test for Donovan to get attuned to how she moves. Maybe sparring with an Alpha hadn’t been the wisest choice, but did she hate it? Not really.

"Give me your hand." Donovan offered, extending a hand to help her up.

With a grateful sigh, Esme took his hand, but as soon as he pulled her to her feet, her other hand already grabbed the wooden sword within that interval. She aimed for victory, a surge of triumph washing over her as the wooden blade was close to coming contact with his chest.

Before she could savor the moment, Donovan let go off her hand, and she tumbled right to the ground with an undignified thud.

She simply sat there, blinking at him in disbelief. "Seriously?"

Donovan raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps you should work on your balance... before trying to win battles."

"How did you even sense that?!" Esme huffed, "You’re unreal! I may not be a warrior, but I’ve picked up a few tricks from watching the others train in my pack. That move never fails!" She glared at him, feeling her pride get bruised by his effortless victory.

When Donovan extended his hand to help her up, she slapped it away and scrambled to her feet on her own.

"Is that frustration I detect?" he asked with a low chuckle, clearly amused by her little outburst. "Or are you that eager to win a fight with me? I can stand still and let you throw all the punches you want, if it helps you feel any better."

Esme shot him a dark look, her scowl deepening. Was he serious? Who in their right mind would offer themselves up as a human punching bag? He had to be joking... but with Donovan, she couldn’t be entirely sure.

Holding her wooden sword with all the determination she could muster, she then charged at Donovan again. She had to admit that he was maddeningly elusive — just like in the tower when she’d tried to stab him with a knife. His movements were frustratingly smooth, dodging her attack with the kind of grace that made her grit her teeth.

A squeak of surprise left her lips when his wooden sword landed a solid, but painless thwack at the small of her back, sending her stumbling forward. But before she could make an embarrassing acquaintance with the floor, Donovan’s arms shot out, catching her around the waist with practiced ease that only annoyed her further.

"I wasn’t expecting to have too much fun with this," Donovan teased, helping her regain her balance, and his voice took a more serious edge as he explained. "To eliminate a demon shifter, you have to aim for the nape or take their head clean off. Those are the only spots they can’t regenerate from, so aiming is very important."

He released his hold on her waist, and Esme stood on her own two feet, though her pride had taken more of a hit than her body. She then explained her own theory. "When a demon bites or claws its victim, they spread their curse through those contacts. I did a little experimenting with the bodies you ’dispatched’ in the tower, and there were traces of the curse in them. It led me to believe that the curse can either kill them, or bond with their bodies, turning them into what they’re not. That was my theory on Finnian and the corpses. I think—"

"Hold on," Donovan suddenly interrupted Esme, his expression shifting as a quizzical frown marred his otherwise handsome face. "Did you just say you took blood samples from the corpses at the tower and found the toxin in them?"

Esme crossed her arm, glancing his way with a matter-of-fact nod. "Yes. How else would I have figured out what was going on? You killed those men, and I wanted to see if there was anything of value to learn from their blood. That’s when I discovered that the curse manifests as a black toxin, mixing with the blood, which explains the marks on your body. The marks are a sign of the curse’s manifestation."

"I get what you’re saying," Donovan said slowly. "But I didn’t use claws or bites on them. I killed them with weapons. Only a full demon can spread the curse through such contacts. Even if I had gone feral on them, which I didn’t, you wouldn’t have found any traces of the curse, cause we’re not full demons, hence, we can’t spread it like the others unless we’ve surrendered to the curse."

Esme adjusted her stance, her mind racing as the weight of Donovan’s analysis began to settle in. "So, those things I detected from those bodies... they weren’t from you? You never infected those guards?"

A heavy silence hung in the air, building the tension between them.

"But... If that’s the case, how did the test samples prove positive?" She asked, her confusion deepening. "I remember taking them myself—"

"It was a trap," Donovan interjected, his voice hardening as the realization hit him. He placed the wooden sword back in place, the calmness of his actions starkly contrasting the storm brewing within him.

"Someone’s trying to set me up. They knew you’d be collecting blood samples on that day, so they tainted the bodies I already killed to make you doubt me."

The air seemed to shift, and Esme shivered when a chill ran down her spine. Donovan seemed pissed, and she could tell.

"Did anything unusual happen on your way back from the tower?" He asked, his tone thoughtful, and Esme furrowed her brows, reflecting on the question. Her eyes widened as she recalled the raven she saw on that day. That ominous bird had been watching her the entire way, and she was certain it wasn’t Kangee. And then there was a moment when her horse had frozen in place, refusing to move, followed by the eerie gust of wind that seemed to spawn from nowhere.

Before she could tell Donovan about it, Neville showed up, his arrival as abrupt as ever, and he said, "I have very important news to share with the Alpha if he’s not busy." He adjusted his monocle with a look of mild exhaustion, and Esme could swear he wore glasses the last time she saw him.

"What is it?" Donovan asked, shifting his attention, and Neville stepped forward, clearly running on little sleep.

"I’ve been investigating what was injected into the boy," he began. "After working through the night, I managed to isolate some key ingredients. Since she’s from the other side of Illyria," he gestured towards Esme. "I was hoping your mate could help identify a few of them, if that’s acceptable to you."

He handed Esme the clipboard filled with scribbled notes, and she studied the list, impressed by how much Neville had managed to deduce from just observing Finnian’s symptoms.

• Aconitum

• Silver extract

• Hemlock roots (water)

• Frostshade Bark

"Wait, Hemlock root? That’s from the conium maculatum plant up North," Esme remarked in a matter-of-fact tone. "The root is typically long and taproot-shaped, almost like a parsnip, if I’m not mistaken. It contains highly toxic alkaloids. Deadly for shifters, but incredibly potent. Frostshade bark is found from a rare tree in the coldest part of the North too. Lady Emily hails from the North if I remember correctly."

She pondered, completely lost in her own thoughts, unaware of the stunned silence her detailed explanation had drawn.

"You... know too much," Neville took that into notice, taking his clipboard back from her grasp with an eyebrow raised. "You’ve been studying poison?"

"I just happened to come across that particular one in one of the many books I’ve read," she explained. "But I’m actually impressed that you were able to figure out that much ingredient from observation."

"Experience," Neville’s smirk was subtle. "And I’m a healer, it’s technically what I do," he quipped, clearly not about to let her steal all the credit.

Donovan intervened, cutting in with a sly smirk. "I wasn’t expecting you to give a straightforward answer."

"If it concerns my brother, I’ll be as direct as necessary."

Neville glanced between the two of them, "Looks like we’ve got ourselves a heist to plan. That serum, we’re going to need lots of it."