YOURS TRULY

"Are you hesitating? Either you cut this beast’s throat right now or sign a forfeiture agreement. Make your choice, Clara." The icy, demanding voice slashed through the heavy silence of the Winston Tactical Armory, vibrating with a familiar, suffocating arrogance. I blinked, the sudden, overwhelming scent of ozone, damp stone, and raw silver flooding my senses. My throat burned. My chest heaved violently as if I had just taken my very first breath after drowning. A mere second ago, I was lying on a freezing hospital gurney, the rhythmic, mocking beep of a heart monitor fading into a long, flatline drone while my own family left me to bleed dry. They had demanded my blood for a treacherous twin sister who had never spilled a single drop for anyone else, only to utterly discard me when my utility ran out. But the stark white walls of the terminal ward were gone. Instead, fluorescent shop lights hummed aggressively overhead, casting harsh, clinical shadows across rows of high-grade tactical rifles, silver-tipped crossbow bolts, and advanced tracking monitors. The air was thick with cold reality, not the haze of death. I looked down from under my lashes, mouth agape. My fingers were wrapped tightly around the leather-bound hilt of an execution dagger. The blade was forged from pure, refined silver, its edge gleaming with a lethal, polished luminescence designed specifically to halt a werewolf's cellular regeneration. Less than a quarter-inch away from the tip of my blade was the chest of a captured wolf. I was back. The realization hit me like a physical blow, sending a violent shudder straight down my spine. The cosmos had played a wicked trick, or perhaps it had finally granted me the ultimate tool for vengeance. I had been reborn, reeled back through the fabric of time to the exact, pivotal night that had sealed my tragic fate in my past life. "Clara! I don't have all night," Nick snapped, stepping closer. His fingers clamped onto my shoulder, a heavy, possessive weight that used to make my naive self feel secure. Now, it only made my skin crawl with an intense, burning revulsion. "The Hunter Council is waiting upstairs for the live confirmation. Stop staring at the rogue like you’ve never seen blood before. Prove your loyalty to the legacy, or step aside and forfeit your birthright." I didn't answer him immediately. I couldn't. My eyes were entirely locked on the man chained to the heavy iron altar before me. He was in his human form, stripped to the waist, kneeling on the cold concrete. Heavy, silver-infused chains dug into his broad, muscular shoulders and bound his wrists, the metal hissing softly where it met his skin, leaving angry, blistering burns. His chest rose and fell in ragged, painful gasps, covered in deep lacerations from the vanguard's capture nets. Dark, thick blood oozed from his wounds, pooling on the stone floor. Then, as if sensing the shift in the air, he lifted his head. Through the matted tangles of jet-black hair, a pair of piercing, molten-gold eyes locked onto mine. My breath caught in my throat. A phantom heat bloomed deep within my chest, radiating outward until my veins felt like they were catching fire. It was the exact same gaze. The same untamed, terrifyingly beautiful depth that had stared back at me through the smoke and crumbling timber of the burning cabin years ago. It was him. The massive black wolf who had ignored the war outside, leaped through a wall of fire, and used his own body to shield me from a collapsing roof. The wolf who had stayed trapped under burning wood, choking out a desperate order for me to run while my own flesh and blood rode away into the night without looking back. For decades, the Winstons had preached that these creatures were nothing but mindless, bloodthirsty monsters that needed to be wiped from the face of the earth. But when death came knocking, the monsters showed mercy, and the humans showed absolute cowardice. In my past life, blinded by a lifetime of family brainwashing and Nick’s manipulative whispers, I had believed the lie that this captive was a ruthless rogue responsible for terrorizing our borders. I had swallowed my tears, hardened my heart, and driven the silver blade straight into his chest to prove I was a 'true Winston'. I had murdered my savior to please a family that ultimately threw me to the wolves anyway. A sickening wave of disgust for my past self washed over me, followed immediately by a cold, crystalline clarity. I had spent my first life bleeding for people who viewed me as an asset. I wouldn't spend my second life doing the same. "Well?" Nick pressed, his voice dropping into that familiar, grating tone of performative patience. He reached down, his large hand sliding over mine on the hilt, attempting to force my grip downward to drive the point home. "Let's get this over with, babe. For the family. For our future." A cold smile ran from one ear to the other, curling my scarlet lips. "Our future?" I whispered, the words tasting like ash. With a deliberate, fluid motion, I loosened my grip on the dagger. I didn't just lower it; I opened my hand completely and let the heavy weapon drop. It hit the steel altar with a loud, ringing clatter, bouncing once before sliding across the metal and falling uselessly to the concrete floor. Nick froze. His chest heaved, his eyes widening in absolute, unhinged shock as he stared at the discarded blade. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Clara?" "On second thought," I said, crossing my legs elegantly and leaning back against the edge of a nearby equipment crate, completely unbothered. "I won't be killing him." "Clara, this isn't a joke!" Nick’s face flushed a deep, furious crimson. He stepped forward, his hand shooting out to grab my upper arm with a grip of steel, his fingers digging into my flesh as he tried to pull me back toward the altar. "The Council is upstairs! Your father is upstairs! If you walk out of this room without finishing the execution, you are stripped of your vanguard title, your tracking data access, and your inheritance. You'll be nothing but an outcast." I looked down at his hand on my arm, then up into his frantic, ego-driven eyes. Rose-tinted blindfolds were entirely off. I saw him clearly now: a mediocre hunter who had built his entire legendary reputation on the back of my quiet, midnight tactical maps and flawless tracking coordinates. Without me, he was nothing but an empty suit playing soldier. "I heard you the first time, Nick," I said softly, my voice dripping with an icy disdain that made him flinch. "Let's pull the curtains on this alliance already." With a sharp, calculated jerk, I yanked my hand completely out of his steel grip, taking a quick step backward to avoid his reach. I didn't give him the satisfaction of another word. I turned on my heel and walked toward the heavy armory doors, my boots clicking firmly against the stone. As I reached the exit, I paused, casting one last look over my shoulder. The chained Alpha hadn't taken his molten-gold eyes off me. A faint, knowing gleam flickered in their depths, a silent, powerful promise that sent a thrill of dangerous anticipation straight through my blood. I smiled, pushed the heavy doors open, and walked out of my family's legacy forever. Let them burn in the ashes of their own making.