Emma’s POV
**Eighteen Years Later**
The rope felt rough against my fingers.
Good quality. Strong. It would hold.
I tested the knot one more ti. Perfect. I’d practiced this for weeks. Couldn’t afford to ss it up. Not now. Not when everything was finally coming together.
The cabin creaked around . Sa cabin I’d been rotting in for eighteen years. Sa four walls. Sa leaky roof. Sa view of absolutely nothing.
This was my prison.
No. Not prison. Prisons had guards. Had other people. Had sothing to break the endless, crushing silence.
This was worse.
This was exile.
---
I still rember the day they threw out.
Seraphina standing there with her perfect face and her perfect mate and her perfect fucking life. Looking at like I was garbage. Like I was nothing.
"You’ll live here. Alone. No pack support. No visitors. No contact with anyone."
Her voice had been so calm. So reasonable. Like she wasn’t destroying my entire existence with every word.
And the worst part?
She’d let keep my baby.
At first, I thought it was rcy. Compassion. Maybe even guilt.
I was wrong.
It was the cruelest punishnt she could have given .
Because now I had to survive. Had to keep going. Had to watch my son grow up in this hellhole while her children lived in mansions.
My son.
Ethan.
---
The first years were the hardest.
No money. No help. No one to call when the baby wouldn’t stop crying at 3 AM.
I learned to hunt. To forage. To survive on scraps and stubbornness and pure, burning hatred.
The hatred kept warm when the cabin got cold.
Kept fed when the food ran out.
Kept sane when the loneliness threatened to swallow whole.
Every night, I’d hold Ethan and whisper the truth in his ear.
"You’re special," I’d tell him. "You have Alpha blood. Pure Alpha blood. Nightshadow’s blood."
He was too young to understand. But I said it anyway. Over and over. Until the words beca part of him.
"They took everything from us," I’d whisper. "The Alpha and his Luna. They’re the reason we’re here. The reason we suffer."
His little eyes would watch . So serious. So focused.
Even as a baby, he understood hate.
---
He grew up beautiful.
Hair like his father. Sharp features. Those intense eyes that could pin you in place.
But he had my ambition. My fire. My refusal to accept defeat.
"Tell again," he’d say when he was five. "About why we’re here."
And I would tell him.
About the Nightshadow pack. About the throne that should have been his. About the imposter children living in luxury while we rotted in exile.
"Adrian Nightshadow isn’t the real heir," I’d explain. "He’s just the son Damien had with that oga whore. But you—you’re different. You’re pure. You’re what an Alpha should be."
It wasn’t entirely true. Seraphina’s Alpha blood had been a shock to everyone.
But Ethan didn’t need to know that.
He needed to believe he was special. Destined. Robbed of sothing that belonged to him.
And he did believe it.
By the ti he was ten, he hated them as much as I did.
By fifteen, he was training. Every day. Building strength. Learning to fight. Preparing for the day he’d take back what was his.
By eighteen, he was ready.
And so was I.
---
I looked at the letter on the table.
Simple. Devastating. Perfect.
*My dearest Ethan,*
*If you’re reading this, I’m already gone.*
*I didn’t want to tell you, but they found us. The Nightshadow pack. Their spies tracked us down weeks ago. Damien sent a ssage—stop our "plotting" or face execution.*
*I tried to reason with them. Tried to explain that we just wanted to live in peace. But they wouldn’t listen. They never listen.*
*They gave a choice. Kill myself quietly, or watch them kill you in front of .*
*You know what I chose.*
*I’m sorry, my son. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you better. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the life you deserved.*
*But I need you to know sothing.*
*Everything I told you was true. You ARE the rightful heir. You DO have Alpha blood. And they ARE monsters who destroyed our family.*
*Don’t let my death be aningless.*
*Avenge . Avenge us. Take back what they stole.*
*I love you. I’ve always loved you. You were the only good thing in my life.*
*Make them pay.*
*Mom*
I set down the pen.
Lies. All of it lies.
Nobody had found us. Nobody cared enough to look. We were forgotten. Erased. Like we’d never existed at all.
But Ethan didn’t know that.
And he never would.
---
The front door creaked.
"Mom?" Ethan’s voice. Strong. Deep. So different from the baby I’d held eighteen years ago. "I’m back. Got so rabbits for dinner."
I didn’t answer.
My hands were shaking. Just slightly. The last tremors of doubt before the end.
Was this really what I wanted?
To die?
To leave my son alone in this world?
Yes.
Yes, it was.
Because I wasn’t just dying. I was giving him a gift. The final push he needed. The motivation that would carry him through whatever ca next.
My death would be the spark.
His revenge would be the fire.
And the Nightshadow pack would burn.
"Mom?"
Footsteps. Getting closer. He’d see soon. See the rope. See the chair I was standing on.
Good.
I wanted him to see.
Wanted the image burned into his brain forever.
"MOM!"
The door burst open.
Ethan stood there. Tall. Handso. Every inch the Alpha he was born to be.
His eyes found . Went wide.
"What are you—Mom, NO!"
He lunged forward. But I was faster.
I kicked the chair away.
The rope caught. Tightened. Cut off my air.
It hurt.
God, it hurt.
But the pain didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the look on Ethan’s face.
Horror. Anguish. Rage.
Perfect.
He was screaming sothing. Trying to reach . Trying to save .
Too late.
It was always going to be too late.
My vision was going dark. My lungs burning. My body fighting even as my mind welcod the end.
But I could still hear.
Could still hear Ethan’s voice breaking. Shattering. Reforming into sothing harder. Sothing colder. Sothing I recognized.
Hatred.
Pure, beautiful hatred.
"NO!!" He scread it like his soul was being ripped out. "MOM! NO!"
Then—
"I’M GOING TO KILL THEM!"
The words echoed through the cabin. Through my fading consciousness. Through everything I was and everything I’d beco.
I smiled.
At least, I tried to.
Because this was it. This was what I’d been working toward for eighteen years. Not just survival. Not just endurance. This mont. This transformation.
My son was ready now.
Ready to hate. Ready to fight. Ready to destroy everything Damien and Seraphina had built.
Ready to avenge .
The darkness was closing in. Cold. Final.
But I wasn’t afraid.
Because I’d won.
They’d taken everything from . My status. My future. My life.
But I’d taken sothing too.
I’d taken their peace.
Their security.
Their happy ending.
Ethan would co for them. Would tear apart their perfect family. Would make them feel every ounce of pain they’d inflicted on .
Maybe he’d succeed. Maybe he’d fail.
It didn’t matter.
What mattered was that they’d never be safe again. Never stop looking over their shoulders. Never forget what they’d done.
The cycle would continue.
Hatred breeding hatred. Violence breeding violence.
That was my legacy.
That was my gift.
My final, perfect gift.
*I’m going to kill them.*
Ethan’s voice. The last thing I heard.
So full of rage. So full of purpose.
So much like .
Good boy.
The darkness swallowed everything.
And Emma Blackwood died smiling.
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