Betrayal at its Closest

I was dragged back to the mining camp like a dead dog. Right in front of me, Butcher hauled Amina into the center of the square.

“This,” he said, “is the price of betraying me.”

He ripped Amina’s clothes apart and shouted to the werewolf guards behind him, “She’s yours.”

I could only watch as those beasts swarmed around her.

Amina’s desperate screams and their obscene laughter tore into my ears. I thrashed wildly, a beastlike roar ripping from my throat. I tried again and again to call out to the wolf inside me, but there was no response. All I could do was watch as the only person who had ever shown me warmth in this hell was tortured to death before my eyes.

Bloody tears slid down my face as hatred ignited inside me, burning away what little sanity I had left. However, Butcher still wasn’t satisfied. He walked up to me, crouched down, and pinched my chin between his fingers.

“Keeping you here is a waste,” he said with a grin. “I hear the Wakha Pack deep in the jungle loves tender, soft-skinned she-wolves like you. Selling you to them will earn me another fortune.”

I was stuffed into a burlap sack and transported for what felt like endless hours. When the sack was finally ripped open, I found myself surrounded by dark-skinned savages with oil-painted faces. The way they stared at me was the same way one looks at a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

They tied me to a massive wooden frame, dry firewood piled beneath my feet. A man wearing a feathered headdress—clearly their leader—approached with a stone knife in his hand. He muttered something under his breath, as if conducting a ritual. Around him, the savages began to dance and howl with excitement.

I stared at the stone blade as it crept closer and closer to my heart, my mind still. In despair, I shut my eyes. I swore on my wolf that even in death, I would haunt Gariel and Butcher.

Just as the knife was about to plunge into my chest, the pack’s wooden gates exploded inward under a massive impact. In the next instant, countless silver bullets rained down like a storm. The savages who had been celebrating moments ago fell in droves.

Armed helicopters circled overhead, their overwhelming firepower sealing off the entire area. Fully equipped werewolf mercenaries descended from the sky, eradicating everything in their path with absolute force.

Through the smoke and chaos, a tall figure charged toward me like a madman. He sliced through the ropes binding me and wrapped me tightly in his blood-soaked coat. At last, I couldn’t hold on anymore.

Everything went black.

…

When I woke again, I found myself inside a white medical tent, surrounded by advanced medical equipment. I twitched my fingers slightly, and pain surged through my entire body.

“Veya!”

A familiar voice rang out. It was my mother, Hale.

She rushed to my bedside, her hair completely white, her face worn and hollow. Behind her stood my father, Lucius, leaning heavily on a cane, his body trembling.

“Father… Mother…” Tears flooded my eyes as I spoke, “How did you…”

“A mysterious person sent us a message. They told us you weren’t dead, that you were trapped in the frontier and in terrible condition. However, when I confronted Gariel, he poisoned your mother and me. He then placed us under house arrest and told the pack I was ill, claiming temporary control in my stead.”

My father clenched his fists, his face twisted with rage.

“I never imagined,” he continued, “that after all these years, I’d raised a beast, just like his greedy, heartless mother.”

“Father, you were poisoned? Are you okay?” I asked.

Seeing me anxious, my mother assured me, “Veya, don’t worry. Your father and I are fine now. That mysterious person helped us. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here.”

She pulled me into her arms, her body trembling.

“Veya, I’m so sorry. We failed to raise Gariel. That’s why you went through all that suffering.”

At that moment, the tent flap was lifted. A silver-haired middle-aged male werewolf stepped inside. The powerful Alpha aura radiating from him made instinctive submission unavoidable. I recognized him instantly. He was the one who saved me.

Behind him stood an elegant female werewolf. The moment she saw me, tears spilled from her eyes, and she collapsed to the ground.

The male werewolf strode to my bedside, pushing my parents aside without hesitation. He dropped to one knee in front of me. His hands trembled as he reached out, wanting to touch my face, yet fearing he might hurt me.

Finally, his gaze fell to my right wrist. There, beneath the bandages, was a red birthmark shaped like a maple leaf. In that instant, his eyes turned red.