Congratulations on your new fucking life, Clara!

Clara’s POV

My feet stumbled along the endless corridors, the carpets red as wounds, portraits on the walls watching with permanent suspicion. By the time we reached his chambers, my breath came shallow and weak, my heart drumming panic against my ribs.

The door slammed behind us with a bone-shaking bang.

His room—our so-called mating chamber—wasn’t just silent. It was menacing. Lamplight flickered over gleaming weapons on the walls, shelves lined with blood-spattered books, the stench of his cologne and smoke clinging to the battered furniture. It wasn’t a bedroom—it was a prison for ghosts.

Taehyung locked the door behind him with a finality that made my blood run colder. A flash of silver at his hip—a gun holstered, glinting—made something primal inside me shrink away.

But it was his presence that poisoned the air. His cold eyes. The darkness clouding every deliberate step.

I barely had time to flinch before his hand shot out—ringed fingers biting into my wrist—yanking me off my feet. My gasp was strangled, fear seizing me too quickly for sound. He threw me—hard—onto the bed. My body bounced, tangled in dead woman’s silk, the air knocked from my lungs.

I froze, staring at the ceiling, heart a rabbit’s drum in my chest. Above me, his cheeks were streaked with shadows, but his rage needed no translation. The lines of his suit—dark, expensive, sharp as a blade—did nothing to soften the monster beneath.

“You think you’re innocent?” His voice held an edge sharpened by grief and vengeance. “You think I didn’t see through your little act?” He stalked closer, looming over me, shadow swallowing me whole.

I shook my head, tears already pricking my lashes. “Please, Alpha. I didn’t kill her—I didn’t—”

“She died because of you! You killed her!” he roared. It shook the walls. Somewhere outside, a glass shattered—someone dropped something in fear, or maybe it was just my mind fracturing.

My words tangled in desperation. “She was my friend…my family, you know that! I would never—”

“LIAR!” The word detonated between us. He slammed his fist into the headboard—wood splintered so close to my face I felt shards flick against my cheek, smelled the sharp bite of varnish and blood. I flinched so hard my whole body curled in on itself, sobs tearing out of me hopeless and ragged.

He pressed in, his body heat a threat rather than comfort. “You don’t get to play the orphan. Not here. Not with me.” His tone dripped venom. “You did this. You put her in the ground. You stole my future. You stole everything.”

A cold, iron taste filled my mouth—I realized I’d bitten my own tongue trying not to scream.

“I wish I had died that day,” I whispered, voice shredded. “I wish it had been me…”

Taehyung’s lips curled, predator’s snarl. “Don’t worry, princess.” He crouched, close enough that his breath iced my skin. His hand shot out, grabbing my chin until my jaw creaked in protest, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I’ll fulfill your fucking wish. One way or another. Every day you draw breath, you’ll know regret.”

He released me for a heartbeat’s mercy, only to slam his palm into the mattress beside my head, making the whole bed shudder. His grip was everywhere—on my chin, neck, his shadow pinning me in place. My heart hammered chaotically against my ribs.

“You want death? It’s too easy. I don’t want you dead, Clara. I want you ruined. I want you on your knees, begging. I want you haunted.” He leaned so close, I could feel the electricity of his cruelty, the absolute authority in his posture. “You’re going to learn the cost of crossing me. You’ll never forget it—not while I run this pack, or as long as I run this city.”

His eyes flicked to my ruined lip, my bleeding neck—a wolf savoring the damage he caused. His features softened, just for a second, but it was only more dangerous. Mafia king, sadist, executioner—all in one cruel glance.

He stood, straightening his jacket, radiating dominance and lethal intent. “Congratulations on your new fucking life, Clara. You wanted to be Luna. Now you’re my mark. My example.”

He left me on the bed, blanketed in shadows and shame, the throb of his violence lingering like aftershocks from an earthquake.

My body curled up, small and shaking. The silk dress felt like barbed wire, scratching at my skin until I clawed at the seams, wishing I could rip away the whole day. The room wasn’t silent anymore—it pulsed with the ghost of his cruelty, the echo of his threats.

I pressed my face into the blanket, sobbing, pain and humiliation leaking from every pore. The mark on my neck burned like fire, his claim carved into me just beneath the skin. My lip ached fiercely, blood still beading.

But nothing hurt as much as my heart—battered, accused, utterly alone.

I heard his footsteps cross the room, the chink of glass as he poured himself a drink, ice clinking against crystal. He watched me through the shadows, didn’t speak, didn’t move to comfort—just drank, savored his victory in silence.

The city outside was unnaturally quiet, as if the whole world was waiting for me to break. But I was already broken.

I lay there, whispering, shaking, tears soaking the pillow as I repeated the only truth I had left to myself:

“I didn’t kill her…”

“I didn’t kill her…”

“I didn’t…”

The wolf on the throne across the room lit a cigarette, the smoke swirling into the darkness, sealing me inside my new life—a silenced bride, crowned in hell.

And when sleep came, it was no peace—only a murky place where pain couldn’t quite follow. But his words, his threats… followed me even there.