CHAPTER FIVE
926 Words
I haven't heard it spoken aloud in fifteen years, but it still makes my hands shake.
Suddenly, I’m twelve again, crammed into that tiny closet with my knees pulled to my chest. The screaming has stopped. My mother's voice, my father's roar of defiance—all gone. Just silence and the sound of my own ragged breathing.
"You are joking" My voice comes out wrong, too quiet.
Alpha Marcus holds up a thick manila folder, pages spilling out the edges. "BYour mate here is the last of the bloodline that killed your parents."
I grab the nearest tree to keep from falling, bark rough under my palm. This can't be right. The universe wouldn't be that cruel.
But Marcus is still talking, flipping through papers covered in family trees and test results. "We've been tracking the survivors for years. Most died out on their own. Some we helped along the way."
I look at my mate. Really look at her for the first time since the ceremony started. She's pale as moonlight now, swaying on her feet like she might collapse. Her dark eyes are wide with shock, lips parted but no sound coming out.
She doesn't know. She had no idea what we were talking about but what difference does that make?
I have sworn…on my parent’s grave that I would eliminate every single one of them and make them pay.
"Your family murdered mine." Each word tastes like poison. "Tore them apart while I watched and listened to them die."
She shakes her head frantically, backing away from me. Her hands flutter up, signing something desperate and quick, but I don't understand sign language.
The frustration in her eyes cuts through me even as my rage builds.
"Because they were monsters." My voice is getting louder, drawing stares from the gathered wolves. "Your bloodline feeds on pain. They destroyed everything good in this world."
She keeps signing, tears streaming down her face now. Her movements are sharp, angry. Even without understanding the words, I can feel her desperation through our bond. She's trying to tell me something important, I can’t understand.
The Silver Moon pack is loving this. I can see them whispering to each other, placing bets on what I'll do next. Will I snap her neck quick and clean? Or take my time, make her suffer the way my parents did?
My own wolves stand ready. One word from me and they'll tear her apart. It would be justice. It would be right.
Through our bond, I feel her breaking.
Her hands move again, slower this time, and I catch the universal gesture for "sorry" repeated over and over.
That stops me cold. She's not making excuses or trying to run. Just standing there taking my anger like she deserves it, apologizing.
Marcus clears his throat. "We kept her alive because she might be useful. Last of her kind has to be worth something, right?"
"Useful how?" I can barely form the words.
"Bait. Information. Who knows what secrets are locked in that Blackthorn blood?"
My mate looks between us like she's watching her execution being planned. And maybe she is. She touches her chest, then points to herself, then makes a gesture toward the other wolves. Even without words, her meaning is clear—she's offering herself up.
"You want to sacrifice yourself?” stare at her.
She nods firmly, then signs something that looks like it might be about helping others.
The mate bond is screaming at me. Every instinct demands I protect her, pull her close, tell the world to go to hell. But the twelve-year-old inside me wants her blood on my hands. Wants to make someone pay for that night of terror.
“Do you think, that your death is enough to atone for the sins of your people.”
She shakes her head sadly.
My mate meets my eyes across the clearing. She doesn't try to sign anymore, just stands there with quiet dignity.
Before anyone can react, she moves. Fast and desperate, she lunges toward the ceremonial altar where silver weapons gleam in the firelight.
"Don't—" I start forward, but she's quicker.
Her fingers close around an ornate dagger, its silver blade catching the flames. The metal burns her palm instantly, smoke rising from her skin, but she doesn't let go. Doesn't even flinch.
She turns the point toward her own throat, and her eyes find mine again. Even now, she's trying to communicate something. Forgiveness, maybe. Or understanding.
The blade touches her neck, and my world explodes into panic. My wolf howls, clawing at my chest from the inside. Every fiber of my being screams at me to stop her.
But she's giving me exactly what I wanted. Her death. Justice for my parents. An end to the bloodline that destroyed my childhood.
So why does it feel like she's tearing my heart out?
Her mouth moves silently, forming words I can't hear but somehow understand through our bond.
/This is what you want, right? To see the last Blackthorn die?/
A thin line of blood appears where the silver touches her skin. The smell hits me like a physical blow—not the metallic scent of regular blood, but something older, richer. Something that makes my wolf pace and snarl with confusion.
She's stealing my choice. My revenge. Making the decision before I can, and I hate her for it almost as much as I hate myself for wanting to save her.
The dagger presses deeper, and I move without thinking.
- Writer
