A Regret in Red

The party was in full swing as I sat alone in a corner.

Damian moved effortlessly through the crowd, blocking drinks for Clara while bringing her food. He was so considerate that it made me burn with jealousy.

I had never enjoyed that kind of consideration and tenderness from him.

I raised my glass and drank it all in one gulp, letting the alcohol sear my nerves.

Suddenly, someone suggested a traditional Werewolf game.

"Let's play Fate's Choice!" The host waved an ancient crystal ball overhead. "Let the crystal show us the way!"

The rules were simple. The crystal ball would randomly show someone's image and ask a question. Whoever was chosen had to answer honestly. It was an old tradition among werewolves, and no one could refuse.

In the first round, an image of Damian appeared in the crystal ball. His face was as clear as day.

"Respected Alpha Damian, if you found yourself in danger, who would you want by your side?" the host asked in an expectant tone.

Clara and another girl's image appeared on the crystal's surface.

My heart started to race, my palms sweaty. The whole room went quiet, waiting.

Damian glanced at the crystal, then at the crowd.

"Clara," he said, without hesitation.

The room erupted in cheers and applause. Clara blushed, looking down shyly.

I gripped my glass so tightly my knuckles turned white.

In the second round, the crystal picked Damian again.

"If you could choose one person to spend your life with, who would it be?"

"Clara." Still no hesitation.

In the third round, the question cut even deeper. "If you could only save one person's life, who would you choose?"

This time, it was my photo and Clara's together.

Damian hesitated for a few seconds. I saw his brows draw together, like he was genuinely thinking about the question.

But in the end, he still said, "Clara."

My heart crashed. It felt like the whole world was laughing at my foolishness.

The game continued, and for three more rounds, the crystal picked Damian.

"Who do you trust most?"

"Who do you most want to protect?"

"Who is most important to you?"

Each time, he picked Clara without a hint of doubt.

Each answer was like a slap across my face.

Meanwhile, I was completely ignored like I was invisible. It was as if I didn't even exist to him.

"I need to go to the washroom," I said as I stood up, my voice trembling as I clung to the last shreds of dignity.

The hallway was quiet, only distant music and laughter reaching me. I leaned against the wall, trying to steady myself. I kept telling myself to stay calm.

"Well, well, what's a pretty thing like you doing here alone?"

A few unfamiliar male voices echoed from around the corner.

I looked up to see a group of Betas from a rival Pack. Their eyes were hostile, and they reeked of alcohol.

"Stay away," I warned coldly, my hand instinctively reaching for the silver dagger strapped to my thigh.

"Don't be so ferocious. Aren't you that famous designer? How about you come see my new art collection?" A tall man reached for me.

I backed away quickly and drew my dagger. "Last warning. Back off, or you'll regret it."

At that moment, I glanced toward the entrance, silently wishing for someone to help.

Damian was right at the ballroom doors, turning just in time to see what was happening.

Our eyes met. Mine were full of silent pleading, certain he would come to my rescue, just like before.

He noticed immediately, his body leaning forward as if he was about to come to me.

But then, behind him, Clara's panicked voice rang out. "Damian! My injury hurts again! It really hurts!"

Without a second thought, Damian turned and hurried to Clara, his eyes filled with worry. Before leaving, he turned to his Beta, Marcus, and said, "Don't worry about her. She can handle herself."

At that moment, it felt like my whole world crumbled.

Fury and despair exploded in my chest. I lunged and stabbed the arm of the nearest man with my silver blade.

"Ah!" He howled as the dagger's poison took effect, dropping him to the ground in agony.

The others scattered, and I took the chance to escape.

Afterward, I sat alone on the terrace, drinking in silence. My mood was completely ruined. The wind at night was cold, stinging my face.

"Don't drink so quickly or you'll end up drunk," Clara's voice drifted over as she approached, carrying a glass of fruit juice. "I was out of line just now, Sister. Don't get mad, okay?"

"It's fine," I replied icily.

"Don't. We're family," Clara said, putting on a show of concern as she stepped closer. "Besides, I wanted to tell you something."

I looked at her coldly. "Don't call me sister. I've never been family to you."

She snapped, unable to keep up the act, "Don't think you've won anything! In the end, you're the one who's been abandoned—by Dad and by Damian."

Her words hurt me deep, but I had no energy left to argue. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a sharp crack overhead.

I looked up. One of the heavy metal racks above the terrace was coming loose. It was about to fall!

In that split second, Damian burst out of the ballroom. Without hesitation, he threw himself over Clara, shielding her with his body.

And I was standing directly beneath the rack as it crashed down.

There was a loud bang, and I was pinned right under the edge of the rack.