98 Lives For Betrayal: One Life For Regret

Emma's POV The lifeless, icy gaze of my mate shattered me more than the cold steel blade he held in his hands. My neck was pressed against the execution docks, the chuck of wood piercing into my skin. And while I screamed in deep pain, a crude smile played over his lips as the entire pack watched in a silence so thick it felt like a grave. A grim laughter escaped my lips. He had chosen today, our three-month wedding anniversary; as the perfect time to send me back to the Moon Goddess. And my step-sister was already standing in my place, posing like a queen. A ragged chuckle coughed out of my lungs, the bitter pills of their betrayal gagging down my throat. "Out of the billions of ladies in the world... it had to be her? My own step-sister?" The pain cracked through my voice despite my resolve. "You will not associate the Luna with your cursed nature, Emma!" Damon’s voice boomed, devoid of any warmth we had shared in the training pits. "You are responsible for killing my child in her womb—the Lycan’s heir. For that, you do not deserve to live!" He had swallowed the allegations whole, never asking for proof, never giving me a second thought. It was just the excuse he needed to do what he had always wanted and nothing more. "I didn't do it, Damon," I whispered, but it was too late. The sword came crashing down. The whistle of the blade was the last thing I heard before it sliced through my bone. Once again, darkness enveloped me. **************** Sudden waves of shock poured through my being. My eyes snapped open, stinging as they adjusted to the brilliant, warm lights of the bridal suite. The crackles of excited laughter from the pack maids filled the room. Nearby, and soft music drifted from the grand hall; a blissful melody that felt like a mockery. My wedding dress was a masterpiece of lace and silk, fitted perfectly to my body as my chief bridesmaid began her chant. "You’re going to be the next Luna of the pack, loved by the Alpha, bearing his heir..." My mind recited the words with lazy, bitter precision. After hearing the same thing for the 98th time, it was impossible to miss a beat. Yes, ninety-eight times. I’ve been married to the Lycan King, my childhood love, ninety-eight times before my nineteenth birthday. And each of those times ended with a death sentence. Arrows, swords, guns, poisons—the gruesome methods evolved with time, but the executioner was always the same. That was what I was born to do, or so my mother always reminded me. I was the Saintess, destined to marry the Lycan and make him fall in love with me to prevent a werewolf apocalypse. I had exactly ninety-nine chances or lives as people may call it, to make it happen. But this time? I was so done and I was ditching that crap. "Luna... are you fine?" The bridesmaid inquired, her gaze revealing a worried expression. I looked at her through the mirror and let a sharp smirk dance on my lips. "Sure I am. It’s my wedding day, isn’t it? Just another day to freely give myself into the cold hands of death because of some ancient folklore." The rest of the words died in my stomach. She didn't need to understand. No one did. With my makeup done and my hair pinned back, I stood up. My resolve was a hard stone in my chest. I was perfect to walk down the aisle and "kiss" my mate. The crowd welcomed me with smiles as the doors groaned open. Damon stood ahead, his cold, handsome face enough to take anyone's breath away. The dark suit, the midnight eyes, that jawline—he looked like a specimen perfectly drawn by the Moon Goddess herself. If only he didn’t have a heart of stone that delighted in killing me, we might have actually worked. I held his hands at the altar. His skin was warm, a sensation that used to make me melt. Now, I just felt a wave of disgusted irritation, fanning my feelings into a forced calm. ‘This is the last time I hold these arms,’ I mumbled under my breath. Before I put an end to his miserable life, I have to escape fate. "Do you accept Miss Emma Young as your true and fated Mate?" The Sage’s voice drowned my thoughts. I didn't look at Damon. I stared at the wall clock instead, my lips twisting with muffled sarcasm. His low growls, meant to show his dominance and disapproval, weren't enough to make me care anymore. I watched the second hand tick. At exactly 8:00 PM, I was going to say the words my entire existence was bred for. "Do you, Miss Emma Young, accept Lycan Damon Daggernut as your True and Fated Mate?" The crowd was already erupting in cheers, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. The clock struck eight. I released a long, steady breath and pulled my hands back. "Hell no," I snapped. "I’m not doing that sh*t again." I brushed my sleeves as if his touch had left a stain, my irritation boiling over. The pack surged from their seats, shock peeling across their faces like a physical layer of skin. I could feel Damon's stare burning into me. He leaned in, his voice a dangerous whisper. "What... are you doing?" "This," I responded, stepping back so everyone could see. "I, Saintess Emma Young, firstborn daughter of the Young family and the Holy Sect, reject you, Lycan Damon, for being a chronic d**k." The words rang in everyone's hearing with a sting of disbelief. A scream of agony erupted from the depths of our shared soul at the same time. The pain tore through every fiber of my body like physical bullets. My wolf howled, screaming and hitting the walls of my mind as the fated bond snapped. I struggled to stay upright, but Damon had it worse. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, his teeth gritting with a mixture of fury and blinding pain. He stared into my eyes, searching for something; confused, for the first time in a century. The agony stretched for an eternity. But as I panted, sweat dripping down my face like a stream, my lips broke into a wide smile. It was a pain that served my freedom. It was a pain that promised me a life beyond his betrayal. As the bond went cold and dead, I turned to leave. I didn't care about the breathless crowd or the scandal. Then I felt it. A sharp, suffocating grip on my wrist. I screeched as the heat of his palm burned against my skin. I spun around, my glare burning with enough hate to match his own. "I don't know what has gotten into you!" Damon hissed. That flicker of confusion was gone, replaced by the cold-hearted Lycan I had feared for 98 lives. "But you are playing your god-damn role." "Now there's the man I know," I mocked, my heart racing. "The monster is finally out." "You cannot reject me," he growled, his grip tightening until I thought my bones would snap. "I am your Alpha. Your mate. I own you!" "Sorry, Lycan, but I can," I said, leaning in until we were nose-to-nose. "And if memory serves me right, I just did." I wrenched my hand out of his grip with a surge of strength I didn't know I had.