Chapter 4

Dara moved swiftly, gathering the few precious belongings she couldn’t bear to leave behind. Her fingers trembled as she packed, her mind racing. When she reached for her drawer, her gaze landed on a small, velvet box tucked in the corner. Slowly, she opened it.

Inside lay the bracelet Leo had given her for her tenth birthday—a simple, delicate band, but to Dara, it was priceless. It had been her most cherished possession, a symbol of warmth and kindness in an otherwise cold and uncertain world.

She clutched it tightly in her hand, hesitating. Would it be foolish to bring it with her? After a moment's internal debate, she tucked it carefully into her bag. She couldn’t leave behind the memory of the boy who had, in his own way, tried to give her a piece of happiness.

Midnight crept in like a thief. The mansion was eerily silent when a knock came at her door. Dara's heart leapt to her throat. She quickly wiped her face, composed herself, and opened it.

Two unfamiliar men entered without ceremony, their faces expressionless and cold.

“Luna Rosetta’s orders,” one of them barked, slamming a piece of parchment and a pen down onto the table. “You’re to write a letter. Tell Leo you never loved him—that you’re leaving because you despise him. Make it convincing. Or else.”

Dara’s hands shook as she gripped the pen. She sat down heavily at the table, blinking away the tears clouding her vision. With a heavy heart, she began to write, each word cutting deeper than the last. She barely realized when a single tear slipped from her cheek and splattered onto the page, smudging the ink slightly.

When she finished, she folded the letter carefully and placed it where Leo would easily find it.

It was done.

There was no turning back now.

Clutching her small bag to her chest, Dara took one last, lingering look around the room that had been her home, her prison, and her sanctuary all at once. Her feet dragged slightly as she followed the two men down the dimly lit corridor.

Her steps slowed as she passed Leo’s door. She stopped for a moment, her heart aching, her eyes misting over—but then she forced herself to move.

She had made her choice. Survival demanded it.

Outside, a black car idled, its headlights off. The men ushered her inside without a word. She climbed in numbly, the door slamming shut behind her.

As the car sped off into the night, Dara clutched the bracelet tightly in her palm, pressing it against her heart. She didn’t know where they were taking her. She only knew that fear sat heavy in her chest like a stone. She could only pray that wherever she ended up, it wouldn’t be in a shallow grave.

---

Back at the mansion, Luna Rosetta and Bayle stood on the balcony, watching the car disappear into the darkness.

"You should have ended it, not spared her," Bayle said with undisguised venom, his arms crossed over his chest.

Rosetta smiled faintly, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"I know," she said softly. "But for the years she lived like a ghost, for how she made Leo believe in himself again… this is the last mercy I can grant her." She turned her sharp gaze to Bayle. "Let this be a secret between us and no one else."

Bayle bowed his head obediently, but inside, he was grinning.

For he had already made arrangements behind the Luna’s back.

One of the men, Austin, was under his orders. And Bayle’s plan did not include mercy.

---

The car veered off the main road, grinding to a halt in the middle of a deserted dirt path surrounded by thick woods. The night air was cold, sharp with the scent of earth and something darker—something primal.

The men climbed out, and Dara, heart hammering, followed hesitantly.

She barely had time to look around before a sharp, horrifying sound pierced the night—the snapping of bones.

She froze.

One of the men—Austin—was shifting.

“What are you doing, Austin?” the other man, Luke, hissed in alarm. “The Luna said not to kill her!”

But Austin didn’t answer.

With a guttural snarl, he lunged at Dara, grabbing her roughly and dragging her toward the dense forest.

“No! No, please!” Dara screamed, struggling wildly against him. Her cries echoed into the night, unanswered.

Luke stood frozen, torn between duty and fear.

Moments later, Austin emerged from the trees, his muzzle dripping red. He shifted back into his human form, wiping the blood from his mouth casually.

“It’s Bayle’s orders,” he said with a cruel smirk.

Luke, grim-faced, nodded in silent resignation. But when his eyes flicked toward the spot where Dara should have been lying lifeless—they widened in horror.

“What the hell…?” Luke breathed.

Austin turned to look—and his expression shifted from smugness to shock.

There, bathed in the silver light of the full moon, stood Dara.

Blood matted her torn clothes. Her body was battered and trembling, but she was alive.

And something inside her had snapped.

Her eyes glowed unnaturally bright, and her entire frame seemed to shimmer with barely contained power.

“You should have just died,” Austin growled, his body beginning to shift again, fur sprouting along his arms.

But before he could fully transform, a sharp, agonizing crack filled the air.

Dara cried out, falling to her knees as her bones twisted and contorted. Her screams split the silence, raw and animalistic. The two men could only watch, stunned, as her body reshaped itself, she wasn't up to sixteen so they were confused when she began to shift.

When it was over, Dara rose to her feet—not as the fragile girl they had intended to bury, but as something far more terrifying.

A Lycan.

Not a mere wolf.

A true monster of the night.

Her size dwarfed theirs. Her fur shimmered silver under the moonlight, her fangs bared in a snarl that promised death.

Austin and Luke barely had time to shift into their wolves before Dara launched at them.

The woods exploded with chaos—screams of terror, the sounds of snapping bones and tearing flesh.

But none of the screams belonged to Dara.