Chapter 3

I drifted silently just behind them, as weightless as a feather.

"She's an ungrateful little beast you just can't tame," Selene complained openly as she walked.

"Spend enough time in the slums, and that kind of deep-rooted filth becomes permanent. Just look at the way she stares at Elena—it's pure, toxic jealousy! If her blood wasn't still slightly useful, I would have tossed her right back into whatever dumpster we dragged her out of."

"Don't upset yourself, Mother. She's not worth the energy," Kyle chimed in smoothly.

Selene scoffed. "Putting on that pathetic, sorrowful face on such an important night... When I open that door, I'm going to teach her a lesson she will never forget."

Listening to their cruel banter, my soul truly felt nothing—not a single ripple of emotion.

If I had heard those words while I was still alive, I would have buried myself under the covers, sobbing until my entire body shook. I would have frantically analyzed every little thing I did wrong, only to lower myself further into the dirt to win their approval.

But now? I only found it pathetic.

As they neared the top-floor attic, the lingering, acrid stench of burning in the hallway grew undeniable.

Downstairs, the gala had been a suffocating mix of heavy designer perfumes, gourmet cuisine, and sharp alcohol. Coupled with the fact that a werewolf's heightened senses instinctively filter out faint background scents when completely relaxed, they hadn't realized something was terribly wrong until this very moment.

Selene's footsteps faltered, her brow pulling into a tight frown. "Why is the smell of smoke so strong? Didn't the servants say the fire was put out ages ago?"

Kyle took a sharp sniff, and his face visibly paled. "The smell is coming from beneath the attic door... And there's something else mixed in with it..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

As the executioner who had drained my veins countless times, he was all too familiar with the scent of my flesh and blood. It was the distinct, nauseating, metallic reek of pure Alpha werewolf blood being scorched at high temperatures.

"Is that utterly useless wretch playing with fire in there?!" Selene's fury flared instantly. She marched to the heavy wooden door, pounding her fists against it.

"Maeve! Get out here right now! Are you out of your mind? You dare start a fire in my house?!"

Inside, there was only a deathly silence. Not a single sound.

"Oh, so now she's playing dead?" Selene trembled with rage, whipping her head toward Kyle and snapping, "Open this door! I want to see exactly what kind of stunt she's pulling!"

Kyle quickly stepped forward, sliding the heavy pure-silver key into the lock.

The silver chain fell away with a heavy clank. This lock, originally forged to restrain feral beasts and paralyze a werewolf's innate power, had executed its mission flawlessly. Not only had it locked my body inside, but it had also deadbolted my very last sliver of hope for survival.

Shoving Kyle aside, Selene violently kicked the door open.

"Maeve, you little bit—"

Her venomous shriek died the very second the door swung wide. It was as if invisible hands had clamped down on her throat, choking the words back down her windpipe.

The scene inside the attic was a miniature recreation of hell.

The storage room had been charred beyond recognition, its walls and ceiling coated in a thick, soot-black glaze. And there, sprawled on the floorboards directly behind the door, lay a completely carbonized corpse.

The corpse was curled into a violently agonizing posture. Its hands were clawed desperately into the gap beneath the doorframe. The fingernails had been completely ripped off in the struggle, exposing the charred, blackened finger bones underneath.

Flakes of blackened ash were mixed with dried, dark crimson trails of blood, smudged across the floor in a horrifying, gruesome smear.

The suffocating stench of scorched flesh hung thick in the air, swallowed by a deafening, terrifying silence.

Selene stood utterly petrified in the doorway. Her eyes were glued to the blackened, shriveled mass on the floor.

Her pupils dilated and trembled violently. In that instant, her mask of untouchable arrogance completely shattered.

"What... what is this..." Her voice trembled so violently it was almost unrecognizable. She could have been asking Kyle, or simply whispering into the void.

Kyle was frozen stiff beside her.

His usually cold, ruthless eyes were blown wide with sheer, unadulterated horror. He unconsciously took a half-step forward, only to instantly recoil as if he'd been struck by lightning.

"No... that's impossible..." Kyle muttered frantically. "A werewolf's healing factor... ordinary fire can't burn us to death. Not unless..."

Not unless all her blood had been drained dry, robbing her of any capacity to heal.

And the person who had mercilessly bled her dry was none other than Kyle himself.

I drifted right in front of them, staring at Selene's face. It was twisted in grotesque disbelief and unparalleled terror.

Weren't you going to teach me some manners, Mom?

Weren't you going to teach me a lesson I'd never forget?

Well, here I am. Lying here perfectly quiet, making absolutely sure I'll never, ever upset you again.