Chapter 6

But those massive beasts with blood-red eyes didn't swallow this weak cub in one gulp.

A mother bear who had lost her own cub licked the mud from her face with her warm tongue. In the dim forest, pairs of beast eyes watched over her through the night.

Wild animals understood feelings better than werewolves.

She survived on raw meat and wild fruits brought by the beasts, growing taller day by day. By the time she reached Stella's age, she had the tough resilience of wild grass.

Until that rainy dusk, when she found a boy by the muddy swamp.

The boy wore expensive silk robes torn to shreds, his chest carved with claw marks so deep you could see bone. Dried dark red blood covered both his eyes.

He was blind.

With her thin arms, Marcella dragged him back to the tree hollow where she lived.

She copied the mother bear's treatment of wounds, chewing bitter herbs into a paste and applying it, bit by bit, to his injuries. Then she pressed half a wild rabbit—food she couldn't bear to eat herself—into his hands.

The boy's whole body was tense, like a cornered beast ready to bite through an enemy's throat at any moment.

"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse, his empty eyes warily facing her direction.

Outside, rain poured down, water hammering against dead wood through the leaves.

She tilted her head, watching the rain fill the sky, and gave herself the first name of her life.

"Raina. My name is Raina."

Six months. A full one hundred and eighty days and nights.

The blind boy and the wild girl huddled together for warmth in the narrow tree hollow.

He couldn't see, but with a voice slightly childish yet firm, he described the outside world to her.

There were metal boxes that could run fast on flat ground, glass lamps hanging from ceilings that never went out, and something called candy.

She listened, mesmerized, her gray-silver wolf ears twitching now and then, filled with longing for the world outside.

"Raina, when I'm healed, I'll take you out," the boy said, feeling for her cheek. "I'll buy you candy every day."

Marcella remembered these words her whole life, and suffered because of them her whole life.

That was a very warm time in her life.

The accident happened on a clear morning.

That day she was lucky—she found a wild beehive at the forest's edge.

To get some honey for Vincent, she got stung by poisonous bees all over her head until her whole face swelled up.

But she didn't care about the pain. Clutching the dripping honeycomb, she ran back.

But the tree hollow was empty. Vincent's warmth had disappeared from the dried grass pile.

His scent was fading in the wind.

Marcella threw down the honeycomb and chased after that faint scent, running all the way out of the forest that had protected her for years.

Outside there were no glass lamps, and no candy.

What waited for her were countless cold stares, and merciless mockery and beatings.

To find him, she became a lowly stray wolf.

When hungry, she dug through garbage bins. When thirsty, she crouched in mud puddles to drink rainwater.

For ten years, she struggled to survive in the darkest corners of the werewolf world, growing tougher through countless fights.

Until that day when it rained heavily.

To protect half a moldy meat pie in her arms, three adult stray wolves pinned her down in dirty water at the alley entrance and tore at her.

Three of her ribs broke, and a chunk of flesh was ripped from her left leg.

Just as she was about to die, a group of guards in black suits suddenly appeared.

They didn't save her. Instead, they put an iron chain around her neck and dragged her like a dead dog into the Shaw Mansion.

Past scenes flashed rapidly through her mind, the glaring crystal chandelier so bright she couldn't open her eyes.

The Alpha of Shaw Pack looked down from on high, examining her with eyes that saw rotting meat.

"You look exactly like that shameless stray wolf mother of yours! If I hadn't been drugged by rivals back then, how would I have touched such a lowly thing!"

The man turned away in disgust.

"Clean her up and throw her in the medical room. Wendy's wolf is weak from birth and needs a wolf with similar bloodline to nurture it."

That day, the stray child learned her origins.

She wasn't an illegitimate child meant to stay in Darkwood Forest from birth.

She was the Alpha of Shaw Pack's biological daughter!

The day she was born, this father despised her low bloodline and cruelly threw her into forbidden lands where beasts roamed.

That she survived was actually thanks to those blood-drinking animals in the forest!

All the memories became sharp, piercing her mind.

She spent ten years of her life for a promise.

And the result?

The Moon Goddess made her Vincent's fated mate, but Vincent thought Wendy was the girl named "Raina" who saved his life.

She gave him her whole heart, but he didn't cherish it at all. He even took away the daughter she nearly died giving birth to, using her to please Wendy, who had stolen everything from her!

"Vincent..." The intense pain jolted her from her memories.

Marcella's eyes snapped open, a terrifying blood-red light shining from her dead pupils.

She shoved Miles's hand away and collapsed in the snow, vomiting a large mouthful of black blood mixed with organ fragments.

Behind her, the gray-silver wolf raised its head and let out a piercing, mournful howl.

In the Luthor Manor, expensive wood crackled in the fireplace.

The Rolls-Royce engine had barely stopped when Vincent kicked open the master bedroom door.

He strode quickly through the hallway, cradling the weak Wendy in his arms.

"Dr. Johnson." Vincent placed Wendy on the large bed and turned to growl toward the door.

Michael Johnson, carrying his medical kit, stumbled into the room.

He didn't have time to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, his hands shaking as he pulled out his stethoscope.

Wendy leaned against the headboard, her face deathly pale.

In Vincent's Alpha spiritual sense, her wolf's shadow was dim and lightless, circling weakly and whimpering.

"Vincent, don't blame Marcella..." A tear slid down her cheek. "She... just pushed me on impulse. Don't be angry with her."

At the mention of Marcella, Vincent's face darkened.

"Does she deserve to be your sister?" Vincent gripped Wendy's hand. "Over ten years ago in Darkwood Forest, if you hadn't saved me, I would have died. Even if she's my fated mate, she dared to hurt you. I won't let her off."

Wendy lowered her head, her falling hair hiding the smile at the corner of her mouth.

Ten years ago, the person who saved Vincent was Marcella, but now Vincent only recognized her, Wendy.

As for the real savior Marcella, let her stay in that mess for the rest of her life.

Someone knocked on the bedroom door.

Guard Ryan Luthor stood in the doorway, his large frame holding a small girl.

It was Stella.

The little girl's breathing was weak. If Ryan hadn't taken pity and secretly fed her some healing potion, she would probably be dead already.

Vincent turned his head, looked at Stella, and frowned. "Take that dirty thing out."

Ryan froze in place, his Adam's apple bobbing. "The Alpha, how should I handle this..."

"Handle?" Vincent stared at that face that resembled Marcella somewhat, his eyes full of disgust.

"In the backyard dungeon, aren't there a few mad wolves locked up?" Vincent adjusted his cuffs methodically.

Ryan's heart sank. "Yes... stray mad wolves caught a few days ago. They've lost all reason and bite anything alive."

"Perfect. Throw this illegitimate child in there. Those werewolves have been starving for days—they can have an extra meal."