Claire POV:
However, I vastly underestimated the shamelessness of a beast.
When I was brutally dragged onto the execution block, the glaring sunlight stung my swollen eyes. But what stung infinitely more were the familiar faces bound to the wooden posts across the square.
My grandfather, my pack members, my blood kin... all seventy-two of them, heavily chained before the chopping blocks. They hadn't even spared the newborn pups who were barely a month old!
The crowd of commoners below was restless, a sea of bewildered whispers. No one could believe that the fiercely loyal, righteous, and benevolent Bryant Pack could commit such heinous crimes of treason and murder.
I was forced to my knees on the rough wooden platform. My eyes nearly tore at the seams as I glared at Erich, who sat comfortably on his high throne. "You swore an oath!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "You said if I confessed, you would banish them! You promised to leave them a way out!"
Erich looked down at me from his towering height, a chilling, merciless smirk curving his lips. "I did promise to let them live, Claire. I just never specified... for how long."
He lazily raised his hand, and with the casualness of brushing off a speck of dust, he let it drop.
"NO—!!!"
My grandfather, the once-invincible Chief Elder who had bled and sweated his entire life for the werewolf packs, looked at me one last time. There was no resentment in his old eyes, only profound, agonizing sorrow and pity for my naivety. “Claire, my silly girl...” he mouthed silently. “Don't cry.”
"Execute them!" Erich's cold command echoed across the square.
The executioners raised their massive silver broadswords high into the air.
SCHLICK—
The sickening, synchronized sound of blades slicing through bone and flesh. Seventy-two heads rolled from the chopping blocks at the exact same second. Warm, crimson blood erupted into the air like geysers, instantly dyeing the stone square a horrific red.
Crimson flooded my vision. A deafening, explosive ringing shattered my eardrums. Seventy-two vibrant lives, my family, the very foundation of my pack... slaughtered like cattle right before my eyes.
A roar that didn't even sound human tore from my shredded throat—the long, desolate, and bloodcurdling howl of a mother wolf who had just lost everything.
"Erich! Kenya! You treacherous, despicable animals!" I lunged toward the throne like a madwoman, only to be brutally kicked in the stomach by a guard, sending me tumbling down the steep stone steps of the platform like a broken ragdoll.
I lay in the pooling blood, staring at the severed head of a pack member that had rolled to a stop right in front of me.
Suddenly, I stopped crying.
Pushing myself up with my hands, I slowly knelt upright and burst into a fit of uncontrollable, maniacal laughter. Two streams of blood-tinged tears poured from my eyes, burning hot trails through the grime on my face.
Without a second of hesitation, I shoved my mangled hand into my mouth and bit down viciously on the freshly formed scabs of my severed fingers.
Thick, dark blood welled up instantly. With a trembling yet resolute hand, using my own soul as the conduit, I began to frantically draw an ancient Blood Oath totem on the stone ground. It was a forbidden ritual whispered about only in the darkest grimoires—a ritual that didn't ask the Moon Goddess for mercy, but summoned demons for vengeance.
"I, Claire Bryant!" I rasped, my voice hoarse but terrifyingly steady, every syllable dripping with lethal venom. "I offer the blood of the Bryant Pack as a sacrifice, and I wager my immortal soul across all lifetimes—"
The air in the square instantly dropped to freezing. A sourceless, howling wind swept through the execution grounds, carrying what sounded like the agonizing wails of my seventy-two slaughtered kin.
"I curse Erich Blackburn! I curse Kenya Pennington!" I screamed, my voice rising with the very last ounce of life in my dying body. "May your lives be plagued by endless torment! May your deaths be agonizingly slow and filled with despair! I will make you suffer a thousand times the pain you have inflicted upon me today!!!"
The moment the blood totem was complete, it flared with a blinding, sinister crimson light.
Time seemed to freeze. I felt my soul being violently ripped apart by an unstoppable, raging force, plunging me into an endless, dark abyss.
...
I didn't know how long had passed.
Light. A piercing, glaring light. The sound of chattering voices. The cloying, sweet scent of blooming roses and lilies. The crisp chirping of birds...
My eyes snapped open. Like a drowning victim finally breaking the surface, I bolted upright in a soft bed, gasping greedily for air.
I looked around frantically. I was in a lavishly decorated bedroom, sunlight pouring in through massive floor-to-ceiling windows.
Instinctively, I looked down and raised my hands. Ten fingers. Slender, pale, and flawless. No scars. No blood. No missing pieces.
Just then, a sickeningly sweet voice, laced with fake concern, chimed right beside my bed. "Claire? What's wrong? You're so pale, you look like you've seen a ghost. Are you getting pre-wedding jitters because you're about to marry Erich today?"
I turned my head stiffly.
Kenya Pennington was sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing her signature innocent, sweet smile. She reached out, wanting to affectionately cover my hand with hers. "Oh, don't be nervous. Erich is such a perfect mate. You're going to be the happiest Queen in the world."
The moment her skin was about to touch mine, the phantom pain of my severed fingers shot up my arm like a lightning bolt. A violent wave of physical, acidic nausea churned in my stomach, rising straight to my throat.
Smack!
Without a second thought, I slapped her hand away viciously.
Ignoring Kenya's shocked and stiffened expression, I stared dead into her hypocritical face. Hearing her words—about to marry Erich today—a chilling, earth-shattering realization washed over my entire being.
I was absolutely certain. The Moon Goddess, or perhaps the demons of hell, had heard my Blood Oath.
I was reborn.
I had actually returned to the very day I was supposed to marry Erich—the exact starting point of all my tragedies.
Looking at the flustered Kenya, a bone-chilling, predatory smirk slowly curved my lips.
Since you let me crawl my way back from hell... this time, it's your turn to burn.
