Chapter 184
184
Third Person’s POV
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Zara’s voice trembled with a grief so deep it cracked through her soul.
Finished
“What did I ever do to deserve this?” she cried hoarsely. “Thirty years, Alaric. Thirty years of being your mate–did it mean nothing to you?”
Alaric Vale could barely shield himself from her fury. His legs, still broken and weak from the savage beating he had received days ago from Duke, hadn’t yet healed.
That was the curse of it.
Ever since the fight with Duke, Alaric had been unable to shift into his wolf. Something had snapped inside him that night- not just bones, but the fragile tether to his beast. Whether it was the brutal force of the injuries, a backlash from a spell cast during the scuffle, or a sign that his wolf had begun rejecting him after years of betrayal and moral rot—he did not know. All he knew was that when he reached inward now, there was only silence. His healing had slowed to a crawl, no better than
human’s.
For a werewolf who once wielded power with impunity, it was a terrifying weakness.
a
Now, facing a storm of rage from the mate he had betrayed beyond redemption, he could only flail, helpless and cornered.
“Zara, enough!” he choked out, arms waving clumsily in the air as her nails tore across his face.
But she didn’t stop.
The fire in her eyes had become a consuming inferno.
She leapt forward, her fingers clamping around his throat like steel traps.
“You don’t get to live after what you’ve done! You’re a monster!” Zara’s entire frame shook with hatred. Her claws dug in deeper, her eyes glowing with feral energy, no longer the mate he once controlled–but a mother wolf driven by vengeance.
Alaric gasped, his eyes rolling back, lips turning blue. His tongue lolled from his mouth as his arms thrashed in the air. Oxygen fled his body with every second she held him, and panic twisted his body like a dying animal.
Outside the hospital room, Riley stood silently, watching the unfolding chaos through the glass.
She had never seen her mother like this .
She had assumed Zara, broken as she was , would choose silence , or retreat. That she would weep behind closed doors, too proud to cause a scene.
But now she understood.
There was no forgiveness in Zara anymore – only righteous fury.
Riley’s lips curled in a cold smile. Only when the blade cut your own flesh did you understand pain. And now, finally, Zara understood.
Inside, Zara’s face twisted in anguish. Her hands shook, but her grip remamed iron–strong around Alaric’s throat.
Her world had crumbled into ruin.
She had never cared for money–she had always had plenty. But what she treasured most had been loyalty, love, her family.
And Alaric had destroyed all of it:
Her father? Poisoned by Alaric
Her son Kael? Framed and locked away, the key thrown into the abyss.
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Her daughter Riley? Abandoned, unloved, replaced by a child not her own.
Her own body? Harvested–violated–her kidney stolen, for Alaric’s bastard.
Zara’s screams tore through the sterile air as she squeezed harder.
Alaric’s vision darkened. His body convulsed violently, and he groped blindly around the nightstand–desperate for something, anything.
His fingers brushed metal.
A fruit knife.
Driven by primal survival, he didn’t think. He just plunged the blade forward.
A wet, sickening shhk filled the air.
Zara’s scream pierced the room like shattered glass.
Her body flung backward as pain exploded from her left eye. Blood sprayed across Alaric’s face, hot and thick.
The knife had pierced her face–her eye.
Finished
She fell hard to the floor, writhing in agony, her cries echoing like the last howls of a dying wolf. Blood pooled beneath her, her hands clutching her face as her body twisted uncontrollably.
Alaric gasped for air, greedily pulling breath into his burning lungs. His chest rose and fell in ragged jerks as he blinked the blood out of his own eyes .
When he looked down at Zara, his breath caught in his throat.
Her left eye was gone.
The blade still jutted from the socket, and blood streamed through her fingers, down her arms, staining her hospital gown.
She writhed, screeched, pleaded in pain–a sight that would haunt any decent man.
But Alaric Vale?
He felt only relief.
And soon, calculation.
He staggered back from the bed, muttering, “It—it wasn’t my fault. She attacked me. This is… this is self– defense .”
His voice trembled, but the panic in his eyes had begun to fade.
He looked down at the woman he had spent three decades pretending to love. Now lying in a pool of her own blood. And yet, in his heart, there was no sorrow. No regret. Only cold, twisted clarity.
After all, they were still legally mated.
This? This would be brushed off as domestic violence. A tragic misunderstanding. He’d get a slap on the wrist, maybe a lecture from the Elders–then walk free,
He would be fine .
And Zara?
She was done.
He wiped the blood from his mouth and opened his communication stone.
“Hello?” he said as the call connected. “Elira–come to my room Now”
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His voice was casual, almost bored.
Finished
“That bitch Zara found out about us,” he continued, lips curled in disgust. “She tried to kill me. I stabbed her in the eye. Bring someone to drag her out–I don’t want to see her. Filthy thing.”
The words spilled out of his mouth without a pause.
But across the room, Zara heard every word.
Writhing on the floor, blinded on one side, she glared up at him, the only eye she had left burning with a hatred so potent it made the air feel colder.
Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a curse.
“Alaric Vale… you will die in agony.”
Alaric laughed.
He threw his head back and howled with cruelty, the sound shrill, inhuman. His bloodied face twisted in something resembling glee.
“Die?” he sneered: “Bitch, if it weren’t for your shares in the pack council and what little name you still have, you think I’d have let you live this long?”
He spat on the ground, blood mingling with saliva.
“You were just a means to an end.”