The road ahead was a dark line, snaking toward the manor looming on the horizon—a shadow etched against the night sky. Emily felt the tension rise within her, each passing mile bringing her closer to what needed to be done. Beside her, Alexander remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road, but she could feel his presence like a powerful shadow cloaking her. He had always known what she was capable of—he had seen it before she ever did. But tonight, she would prove it to everyone.

"Dmitri is dead, isn't he?" she asked, breaking the silence, her voice a cold whisper.

Alexander nodded without looking at her. "Yes. He paid for his betrayal."

Emily clenched her jaw, a cold satisfaction blooming inside her. But there was still another betrayal left to avenge—one far more personal, far deeper. Clara. The woman who had pretended to be an ally, only to betray her for her own gain.

"And Clara?" she continued, her tone sharpening, every word laced with the hatred she had buried.

Alexander slowed the car as they neared the manor gates. He stopped and finally turned to her, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers. "Clara is alive," he said. "She's in the trunk."

Emily's heart pounded harder, every beat feeding the fury coiled inside her. Justice wasn't enough—she needed vengeance. Brutal, bloody vengeance. She motioned for Alexander to get out. They stepped from the car together, the cold night air wrapping around them like a shroud.

Alexander opened the trunk. Clara lay bound, her face marked with fear. Emily stepped forward slowly, her eyes locked onto the woman who had dared to betray her. Clara tried to shrink back, but there was nowhere to go. Emily grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out without mercy, pulling her across the gravel courtyard toward the manor.

The doors opened before them, revealing the interior where guards and servants had gathered, drawn by the noise. Emily didn't spare them a glance. Her mind was focused on what had to be done. She threw Clara to the marble floor, looming over her like a shadow of vengeance.

Alexander handed Emily a knife. She pushed it away, her eyes gleaming with a feral light. "The doe didn't get that mercy," she murmured, remembering the moment she had been forced to kill the defenseless creature, ripping into its flesh with her teeth. That moment had unearthed something in her—something raw and ancient she had long suppressed. Tonight, she would suppress it no longer.

Emily leaned over Clara, her hands closing around her throat, pressing her face to the cold stone floor. She felt Clara's skin under her fingers, the pulse of her blood, the terror in her eyes. A dark smile curved Emily's lips. She knew exactly what needed to be done.

With a primal cry, Emily lowered her head, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh of Clara's throat. Blood flooded her mouth, hot and metallic, and she bit harder, her canines tearing through skin, ripping chunks of flesh away. Clara screamed, her cries piercing the silence, but Emily didn't stop. Every scream was a note in the symphony of vengeance. Every drop of blood, a memory of pain.

Emily's hands tightened on Clara's neck, holding her down, her nails clawing into her skin, marking her. Clara writhed, her legs kicking, arms flailing in desperation—but there was no escape. Emily was a wolf, a mother enraged, protecting what was hers. Nothing would stop her.

She bit again, feeling bones crack beneath the pressure of her jaws, blood spurting, splattering her face and clothes. She was soaked in it, and it only fueled her fury—her thirst for retribution. Clara's screams weakened, slipping into wet gurgles, then silence.

At last, Emily let go, rising, her face drenched in blood, her eyes glowing with triumph. She turned to the gathered crowd, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "This," she said, her voice ringing out, cold and final, "is what it costs to betray me."

Alexander stepped forward, his silent footsteps echoing through the hall. Wordlessly, he stood beside her. Their proximity felt natural—instinctual. Two predators who had shared the same prey. His eyes found hers, and in that look, there was no pity, no remorse. Only a silent recognition of what they had become to each other.

Emily nodded, a strange peace settling over her. She had unleashed the wildness inside her—the part she had always tried to deny. Now, she was more ready than ever to face the world, to destroy anyone who dared oppose her.

She turned toward the manor's doors and crossed the threshold with the certainty of newfound power. She was a wolf. A mother prepared to do anything to protect what was hers. And those who betrayed her—those who stood in her way—would meet the same bloody fate.

Behind her, the manor echoed with the silence left by Clara's screams. A silence thick with meaning, heavy with fear. Emily walked forward, each step an affirmation of her strength, her resolve. She was no longer a victim. She was the predator.

And the world would learn to fear her rage.