Chapter 4

The Memory Recall Ceremony was held in the Sacred Grove.

It was an ancient temple hidden deep in the mountains, its stone walls carved with the totems of the first Werewolves.

In the center was a stone altar holding a massive, glowing Moonstone.

Four elders sat around the altar, chanting in an ancient tongue.

I lay on the stone, bathed in the pale, burning light of the Moonstone.

Then, the memories hit me like a tidal wave.

When I was eighteen, I hadn't shifted yet. While other wolves my age were experiencing their first shifts, I remained in my human form.

And then, tragedy struck.

My parents were killed in an ambush by a rival pack. I became an orphan.

But wait—it wasn't an ambush.

A scene materialized in my mind: Late at night, dark figures crept into our house.

My father was stabbed through the heart. My mother was dragged into the yard... I was hiding in the closet, my hands clamped over my mouth, crying silently.

The fathers of those six Alphas were standing in the yard, laughing.

"Is it done?"

"Yes. The last of the Lycan bloodline is dead."

"What about his daughter? Don't kill her yet. Let's have some fun with her first."

I trembled on the altar, tears flowing freely.

The memories continued to flash.

I was taken by the first Alpha, forced to be his toy. Three months later, I was passed to the second Alpha like a piece of meat. Then the third, the fourth...

Every mate mark they forced on me felt like a branding iron searing my soul.

I couldn't take it anymore. I set a fire, burning their manor to the ground, and ran.

I ran through the wilderness for three days and three nights until I collapsed by the road.

An old couple found me—Thomas and Martha.

They healed me, fed me, and gave me a new identity.

But they didn't know that before I lost consciousness, I had used the last of my energy to cast an ancient lock-curse on myself, sealing away all my memories.

Because those memories were too painful. If I didn't forget, I would have gone mad.

The ceremony ended.

I opened my eyes, my face soaked with tears.

"I remember," I whispered, sitting up. "I remember everything."

The six Alphas stood below the altar, their expressions tense.

"My parents were murdered by your fathers," I said, my voice echoing in the temple. "Your 'fated mate' claims were nothing but you treating me like a trophy you shared. Every single one of you is the son of my parents' murderers."

Silence fell over the hall.

"What proof do you have?" Greyson growled.

"Proof?" I laughed coldly. "I saw them. That night, your fathers stood in my yard, deciding my fate. Greyson, your father has a scar on his left cheek, right? My father gave him that scar. Silva, your father walks with a limp, doesn't he? My mother bit through his ankle tendon before she died."

Every detail was painfully accurate.

The Alphas' faces turned pale.

"Even so..." Logan muttered, "that was our fathers' doing. We... we cared for you..."

"You used me!" I screamed. "You all thought I was a willing partner. But ask yourselves—could an eighteen-year-old girl who just lost her family really have a choice?"

No one answered.

"Enough," Elder Raymond stood up. "This involves a historical crime committed by six prominent families. This is no longer a simple mate dispute. I order this case to be handed over to the High Crescent Council. Until then, these six Alphas are forbidden from leaving the city."

"What about me?" I asked.

"Come with me," the Elder said. "We need to talk in private."