Reborn for Vengeance: Claiming All That Was His

The cold iron bars pressed painfully against my back, but even worse was the rough stone beneath me, hard, damp, and cutting into my skin. Every breath was a struggle, each inhalation sharp and shallow. My back was torn open, the lashes had gouged so deeply into my flesh that blood now ran down in sticky streaks. The silver spikes had burned me, delayed my healing, and left me as vulnerable as a mortal can be.

My dress clung to my body, stiff with dried blood, and the air around me smelled of rust, wet stone, and iron, disgusting, suffocating. But what weighed heaviest was the sense of betrayal that hung in the air like smoke and choked me. It made it hard to breathe.

I stared at the stuttering torch in the hall, its flame mocking me with every flicker.

If there was one truth carved into my bones, it was this: I would not confess, and I never bow.

Outside, my pack whispered my name, my people, those I had led, for whom I had fought. Now they called me jealous, barren, bitter. They accused me of poisoning Zebub, Vance’s mistress, and that I had killed the unborn pup. They said I wasn’t a real Luna.

I pressed my forehead against the cold bars, my breathing shallow and irregular.

“I didn’t do it,” I croaked for the umpteenth time. “I swear, I didn’t do it.”

It was useless. No one believed me, no one even bothered to take me seriously.”

Then I heard the door creak open. Heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway. I lifted my head, hope crept inside me. Maybe he was coming to rescue me.

Vance!

My mate of three years.

Tall, broad-shouldered, embodying everything I found mesmerizing in a man.

I remembered the nights when his arms were my fortress, when the weight of his body pressed against mine felt less like dominance and more like safety. The warmth of his breath against my neck, the way his voice dropped low when he whispered my name, it had all been intoxicating, a spell I thought would never break.

But when I saw his face now, illuminated by the flickering torchlight, that hope died. His eyes were neither warm nor loving, they were colder than steel. My heart twisted, torn between memory and reality.

“Vance,” I whispered, clinging to the bars. My palms burned from the silver. “You’ve come.”

His jaws were clenched tight. “You should have confessed, Amani. Then it wouldn’t be this hard for you. The Council won’t spare a child killer.”

My heart broke. “You know me, baby. You know I’m not capable of this. We trained together, fought side by side. I’m your Luna, your mate! How can you see me as a murderer?”

His gaze remained flat, gray, empty, devoid of emotion.

“Zebub lost her pup while screaming your name. Everyone saw her pain. And that hatred in your eyes was crystal clear. You are the one. Take responsibility for your actions, at least!”

I shook my head. The world was spinning around me.

“No! It’s a lie. Find Rosie. She was with me. She knows the truth. Please, Vance. Trust me one more time.”

There was a long silence. His eyes met mine, uncertain for just a fraction of a second. But then his face hardened again, unreadable.

“Rosie? She’s your maid. Why would she help you?”

“Because she’s loyal to me and honest,” I whispered desperately. “She’s the only one I trust the most. Please, Vance. Ask her. She’ll tell you I didn’t ask her to do anything wrong.”

He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. “Okay, one last chance.”

Shortly after, Rosie was brought forward by two warriors. Her face was pale, her eyes darting nervously back and forth. I let out a sigh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. Rosie had served me for years, she would never betray me. She would save me. I thought.

Vance turned to her. “Tell me what happened, Rosie. Did Amani order you to put abortion pills in Zebub’s coffee?”

Rosie’s hands trembled. Her voice quivered, but she forced herself to stay calm.

“I swear, Amani has never asked me to do anything like this before. I was just following orders,” she exclaimed shakily. “My Luna told me to do it. She said it was the only way to keep her position. That it would end the pregnancy.”

I sank to my knees, a scream tearing from my throat.

“No!” I wailed. “Rosie, how could you? You know I never told you to do that! You were with me!”

Rosie kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “I did what she told me to do. I’m sorry, Alpha.”

My sobs burst forth, uncontrollable. “Vance, please! She’s lying! Someone paid her, she’s lying!”

His face hardened again. Without warning, he took a step forward, his hand shot through the bars and closed around my throat. His grip was iron-strong, merciless. His eyes showed no mercy.

“You’re a liar,” he hissed. “You’re a murderer. And you’re going to pay for this. You’ll be executed tomorrow. And that is final!”

He turned to my father, his Beta, who had come in with him and now stood at a distance, trembling and bloodless. “Prepare her. The Council will ensure justice is served.”

Instantly my father collapsed, falling before his Alpha, his voice hoarse with grief. “Vance, no! She’s my daughter! She’s innocent!”

But Vance cut him off. “She’s guilty. And your loyalty is with me and the pack. Don’t forget that.”

I clawed at his wrist, gasping for breath as despair took over me. “Vance, listen! You swore, you swore you’d never betray me! What happened with that? Why did you change your mind?”

His grip tightened once more before he finally let go of me.

“You betrayed yourself,” he stated coldly, turned around, and walked away.

His footsteps echoed down the hallway and faded into silence. The door slammed shut behind him.

Once he was gone, I fell onto the cold stone floor again, my hope entirely gone. I pressed my hand against my side and felt weakness overtake me.

I was exhausted, my eyelids fluttered, I could barely keep them open.

The morning air was so cold that it felt as though it cut into my lungs with every shallow breath.

It was a beautiful day, a clear blue sky, bright sunlight, as if the day were mocking what was about to happen.

Two warriors entered my cell, dragged me out of the damp, stinking dungeon, tightly bounded my wrists with a rope woven with silver threads that burned like fire against my skin. My bare feet scraped across the gravel, each step sending a new jolt of pain through my legs.

When I finally saw the light outside, it felt like I was being stabbed.

Despite my trembling knees and the open wounds on my back, whip marks I could still feel, I held my head high. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me weak. No, I wouldn’t do that.

The square was packed, more than I had expected.

Hundreds of packmates, faces I’d known my whole life, stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for my demise. Their eyes were angry, wild, twisted by unfiltered rage.