Hailee’s POV
Branches slapped against my arms as they dragged deeper into the woods. The night was cold, and the darkness seed to swallow every desperate cry I tried to let out.
They threw down roughly onto the forest floor. I struggled, kicking and clawing at them, but they only laughed—dark, disgusting laughter that made my stomach twist.
"Well, well..." one of them sneered through his mask. "The famous girl everyone keeps talking about... let’s see what’s so special about you."
The other pressed down on my shoulders, trying to pin .
"No! Let go of !" I yelled, my voice hoarse, panicked. I thrashed wildly, desperate for any opening to escape.
But one of them pinned harder to the ground while the other began unbuckling his belt. My eyes widened as he brought out his hardened shaft.
He forced his knees between my legs, trying to part them, but I pressed my thighs tight together. He groaned and struck across the face, trying to force my legs open again, but I clenched them tighter.
The one holding down hit again, pain searing through my skull, and the other used that mont to wedge my legs apart.
I groaned through the pain and realized it was ti—ti to stop pretending to be weak.
Fueled by rage, my fangs shot out from my fingers. The one pinning down didn’t stand a chance—I overpowered him, grabbed his throat, and with one savage swipe of my claws, I sliced his head clean from his shoulders and flung it aside.
The other’s eyes widened in terror as he tried to crawl away, horrified by what I’d done. But I didn’t give him the chance. I moved with inhuman speed, landing in front of him.
I slamd him against a tree, my fangs grazing his throat.
"Please... I’m sorry..." the masked man whimpered.
I shook my head slowly. "I don’t know how many girls have suffered at your hands, and leaving you alive would only put more in danger."
His brown eyes widened in fear behind the black mask. My claws tore into his chest, my fingers wrapping around his ribs and snapping them like twigs.
He scread—a wretched, bloodcurdling sound. "No! No, please!" He choked.
He struggled against , his body thrashing but he was no match for , not when I am in this mode.
I didn’t stop.
I dug my claws deeper, feeling the frantic beating of his heart under my fingers.
"In your next life," I growled, my breath hot against his ear, "you’ll never even dream of abusing a woman."
I leaned closer, watching agony twist his face.
With one final, rciless tug, I ripped his heart from his chest.
The wet squelch of torn flesh and the crack of breaking bone filled the air. Blood splattered across my face, warm and thick.
The stranger’s body spasd violently before going limp, his lifeless eyes still wide with horror.
I let go of him, and the dead body dropped on the grass floor.
With a panting heart, I stared at his heart in my hand before throwing it on him.
My chest heaved, blood dripping from my fingertips as I stood in the middle of the silent woods. My fangs slowly retracted, my claws pulling back into my fingers as the fire inside began to fade.
I closed my eyes.
Breathe, Hailee.
One breath in—sharp and shaking. One breath out—slow and steady. Then another.
The anger that had taken over —the raw energy that made feel more beast than human—I forced it back down.
I sealed it. Locked it away behind the wall I had spent years building.
And finally... I was again. The innocent, powerless oga everyone believed I was.
I opened my eyes and stared down at the two lifeless bodies lying at my feet. The scent of blood filled the night air, thick and tallic. My stomach churned, but I pushed the feeling aside.
I needed to know who they were.
I knelt beside the first—the one whose head I’d severed—and hesitated before reaching for his mask. My fingers trembled as I peeled it away.
My breath caught in my throat. I knew that face.
"Maro..." I whispered. "Gamma Magnus’s son..."
My eyes widened. What was he doing here? Why would he—soone from our own Pack—do sothing like this?
Swallowing hard, I turned to the second body. I moved slower, afraid of who I’d find under the mask this ti.
I gripped the edge of his mask and pulled. My heart nearly stopped.
Gamma Daniel’s eldest son.
My hands flew to my mouth in horror.
"No..." I whispered, staggering back. "Why would they—? How could they—?"
I stared at them in disbelief. My mind racing. My chest tightening.
People I knew. People who smiled at in the Pack house. Who trained with others. Who held rank. Respect.
And they’d tried to— I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing back the scream rising in my throat.
They would’ve destroyed . And no one would’ve believed .
But now... now they were gone. Not just dead—killed by . By the thing I kept hidden.
The woods were quiet again, but inside I was scared. The people I had just killed weren’t just rogues like I thought they were; no, they were sons of high-ranking n, and if anyone sees here, they will never believe my story.
With my heart pounding, I ran from the woods. I ran as fast as my legs would carry , back ho.
Luckily, the path was empty, and a few minutes later I reached ho. I unlocked the door, slipped inside, and bolted up to my room.
Reaching my room, I slamd the door and leaned against it, gasping for breath.
I was terrified—and sothing deep inside told this was only the beginning of my trouble.
I pushed away from the door and slowly took off my clothes. They were covered in blood. I didn’t want to look at them. I didn’t want to rember anything.
I went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Blood ran down my body and swirled around the drain. I grabbed the soap and started scrubbing hard, again and again, until my skin turned red. I wanted to feel clean. I wanted the mory gone.
But it didn’t work.
Even when the blood was gone, I still felt dirty.
Their voices still rang in my ears.
Their laughs.
Their screams.
The way they looked before they died.
I leaned on the sink, dripping wet, trying to calm down.
"Just breathe," I whispered to myself. "Just breathe..."
But I couldn’t.
I wrapped a towel around myself and walked slowly to my bed. My body felt so heavy. I dropped down onto the bed, too tired to even move.
The sheets were cool, but my thoughts were burning.
I stared at the ceiling, my heart racing.
Tomorrow.
By tomorrow, everyone would know.
The sons of two powerful Gammas—dead. Killed in the woods. And not just killed—ripped apart.
People would panic. They would ask questions. They would try to find out who did it.
And if they even guessed it was ... I’d be in danger. No one would believe it was self-defense. I was just a weak, quiet oga to them.
I didn’t regret killing them. Not at all.
But I was scared.
Scared of what would happen next.
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