Chapter Six: Blood and Ashes
1024 Words
Sabrina Cuevas didn’t scream. She never did. Even as the glass cut into her palm when she grabbed the broken edge of the window to pull herself out, she stayed silent. Blood dripped from her hand, mixing with the black smoke curling through the ruined hallway of the safehouse.
Her wolf senses were sharp—too sharp. Every creak of a step, every shifting scent, every heart beating around her felt like a shout in her ears. And right now, something was wrong. Not just the explosion, not just the betrayal.
Isaac was gone.
He’d disappeared seconds before the blast. One moment, his hand had been in hers—cold, strong, steady. The next, it was smoke and heat and a ringing silence.
She limped into the alley, breathing hard, blood staining her gray hoodie. Her mind raced. Had he escaped? Was he part of it?
A siren wailed in the distance. Sabrina’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t random. Someone wanted her gone. But who?
She knew too much about the mafia families in this city. She’d stolen information for her own safety—and maybe revenge. Her past as an assassin, trained by the rogue wolves in the Southern packs, made her a target. But this felt deeper.
It felt personal.
---
An hour later, she was in an abandoned bookstore near the docks—one of Isaac’s old hideouts. The walls smelled like old pages and sea salt. She crouched in the shadows, trying to stop the bleeding with a torn shirt. Her mind kept replaying the last few days.
Isaac’s voice in her ear, whispering plans.
His lips on her neck.
His warning that “loyalty in this world is a blade, not a bond.”
She had trusted him.
Sabrina pressed her head against the cold wall and closed her eyes. That’s when she heard the softest creak. Too light for a human. Too slow for a rat.
Someone was here.
In a blur, she pulled the small silver knife from her boot and spun to face the intruder.
Isaac.
Alive.
Soaked in blood—but not his own.
“I had to disappear,” he said quietly, his deep voice shaking just enough to feel real. “They knew.”
“They?” she asked, still gripping the blade. Her heart thudded like a war drum.
Isaac stepped forward. “The ones who created me. The ones who want you dead.”
Sabrina stared at him. His face was pale, lips tinged with red. She could see his fangs, barely hidden behind clenched teeth.
He looked like a monster.
But she knew monsters. She had killed them.
She had been one.
“You should’ve told me,” she whispered. “Before everything.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“No,” she said, stepping closer. “You were protecting them.”
Isaac looked down, guilt shadowing his face. “They think you’re the reason the bloodline broke. The curse is tied to you. You’re not just any wolf.”
Sabrina’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
He raised his head slowly, eyes glowing faintly. “Your mother wasn’t just a wolf. She was a Seer. She foresaw the fall of the vampire kings. That’s why she was killed.”
Sabrina staggered back. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was,” Isaac said. “But there’s more. You weren’t supposed to live. They marked you as a threat the moment you were born.”
Sabrina felt the world spin. Her memories—foggy pieces of childhood she could never explain—came crashing back. A woman screaming. A man’s voice begging. A fire.
“My nightmares…” she whispered. “They’re real.”
Isaac nodded.
She dropped the knife. “So what now? Do you kill me too?”
“I should,” Isaac said, stepping closer. “That’s what they sent me for.”
Sabrina didn’t move. “Then do it.”
He reached her, touched her bleeding hand gently. “But I won’t. Because I chose you. I chose us.”
---
Later that night, they lay on the floor beneath dusty bookshelves, sharing silence.
“You said my bloodline’s cursed,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Isaac replied. “And your blood is the key.”
“To what?”
“To ending all of it—the wars, the hunger, the need to hide who we are.”
“And what happens to me if we use my blood?”
Isaac didn’t answer.
Sabrina turned to him, her voice low and steady. “Tell me.”
“You die.”
The words landed like thunder. She stared at the ceiling.
“Then we find another way,” she said, as if she’d already made up her mind. “I’m done being someone’s sacrifice.”
Isaac looked at her. “What if you’re not as innocent as you think?”
“What do you mean?”
He pulled something from his coat—a photo. A girl, about eight, with blood on her hands and glowing golden eyes.
“That’s you. The night your pack died.”
Sabrina stared at it. Her throat tightened. “I don’t remember.”
“You killed them.”
“No,” she whispered.
But something deep inside her knew it was true.
A scream echoed in her head, her own voice, from years ago.
“I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “They wiped your memory. But the monster wasn’t the vampire. It was the wolf.”
Sabrina curled her fingers into fists. The girl in the photo stared back—wide-eyed, broken, dangerous.
She felt like fire was blooming in her chest again. But this time, she didn’t fight it.
“I don’t care,” she said. “I’m still me. And I’m not letting them win.”
Isaac looked at her with a strange expression—half fear, half admiration.
“I believe you,” he said. “But they won’t stop.”
“Then let them come,” she said, standing up slowly. “Because this time… I won’t run.”
- Writer
