Chapter Three: The Shattering

Nikita’s POV

12 years later

Years had passed since that fateful day. The once beautiful mansion had become my prison, and I had grown into my curse. My life had turned into a series of controlled experiments; every touch ended in death, and each loss scarred my body in ink-black marks. The darkness inside me mirrored the dark tattoos that now adorned my once-pale skin.

By my eighteenth birthday, my golden hair had turned midnight black as I mourned each life taken by my cursed touch. I had become a weapon, honed and sharpened by my father’s relentless conditioning. My once-bright blue eyes had darkened with the weight of too many deaths.

As I looked into the mirror, the void in my eyes stared back at me. A knock at the door broke my trance.

“Nikita,” a voice called softly. It was Father’s faithful beta, Yuri. “Your father requests your presence.”

I tightened my long leather gloves—layers upon layers of false security. There was no skin-to-skin contact and no unexpected deaths, but even the gloves had started to fail me as the cruise only grew stronger. As I walked towards Father’s chamber, Yuri gave me a look of pity mixed with something else—fear—a look I had become used to. 

The door to my father’s room creaked as I pushed it open. The scent of decay and sickness hit me like a wave. The once-powerful Alpha Vladimir lay frail and gaunt, his skin sallow and eyes hollow. The relentless curse of time had taken its toll on him, eroding his strength day by day. And for once, it was not my fault.

“My sweet princess,” came my father’s weak voice. “Come closer.”

I approached a stone in my chest. Each step brought me closer to the man who had shaped me into this living nightmare. As I knelt beside him, I saw his eyes, once icy and strong, now awash with regret and a sorrow that pierced my heart.

“I am sorry, my sweet princess. I failed you,” he whispered, each word a sharp blade slicing through the fragile armour I had built around my heart.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. “You didn’t fail me,” I choked out, even though deep down, I had blamed him for everything. “I love you, Father.”

His hand trembled as he reached up to touch my face, but he drew back, remembering the curse. “I love you too, my princess.”

The air between us hung heavy with unspoken words, haunted by regrets and undoable actions. My gloved hands trembled as I slowly removed them, inch by careful inch, revealing the ink-black marks that bore the weight of countless souls. His eyes widened slightly but softened as I placed my bare hands on his cheeks.

“I forgive you,” I whispered, my voice steady and cold.

In that moment, I wrapped my arms around him, feeling the life drain from his already frail body. His last breath escaped him in a sigh, and I clung to him until he was no more. The room, once filled with his presence, now echoed with an unbearable silence.

I stood, letting him go, and wiped my tears away with a newfound resolve. My eyes found those of the guard who had just entered.

"Inform the pack their Alpha is gone and that I am now their Luna," I commanded, my voice frigid and unyielding.

The guard nodded, his eyes wide with both respect and trepidation. With one last look at my father's lifeless body, I turned and walked out, feeling the weight of my new title settle onto my shoulders.

The pack gathered outside, their eyes full of questions and unspoken fears. I looked out at them, remembering how I had once been a scared little girl, crushed under the weight of my own curse. But now, I embraced it.

"I am Nikita, the Luna of Death," I declared, my voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "And under my rule, this pack will become the strongest it has ever been."

Their whispers flickered through the crowd like shadows, wary eyes studying me, fearing me. But in their fear, I saw promise. They would follow me not out of love but out of necessity, out of survival.