Cain
Forgetting things slowly.
That’s what I tell myself when the nights get too long and the ghosts get too loud.
They say a single mistake doesn’t define you.
But that’s a lie humans tell to make themselves sleep at night.
In my world, one mistake can burn down an entire pack.
One mistake can mark you as prey.
One mistake can make you an Alpha no one fears anymore.
I’ve made more than one.
And I remember each one like a fresh wound.
The past doesn’t just haunt me—it stalks me like a predator that knows exactly where to sink its teeth. And the worst part?
I keep letting it.
Because maybe I deserve it.
I’ve been running for so long—pretending the blood on my hands has washed away with time—but the scent is still there. Sharp. Metallic. Impossible to scrub clean.
And now, here
