Gregory Farstone, a powerful and feared Werelord, sat on the balcony of his mansion, enjoying the evening breeze. His son, Kent, stood before him, pleading his case.

"Dad, we have to do something," Kent urged. "I won’t let Serbian hurt Caroline."

Gregory puffed on his cigar, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"I understand your concerns, Kent, but we can’t rush into this. The Silverfox Pack won’t take kindly to our interference."

Kent’s frustration was palpable.

"That’s just it, Dad—ancient rivalries and grudges. Why should Caroline suffer for something our ancestors started?"

Gregory’s expression turned stern.

"You knew the risks of falling for a Luna wolf from the Silverfox Pack. I warned you months ago."

Kent lowered his eyes but spoke with unwavering resolve.

"I love Caroline with all my heart. I’ll stand by her, no matter the cost."

Gregory studied his son, impressed by his determination.

"You’re as stubborn as ever, Kent. But I admire your conviction. As your father—and as one of the Werelords of our pack—I’ll reach out to Mark, our Alpha, and see what can be done."

Kent’s face lit up.

"Thank you, Father."

Gregory’s voice softened.

"I’m doing this for you, son... and for Caroline. She’s remarkable. I think she might be the one to help heal the rift between our packs."

Kent nodded, moved.

"I think you’re right, Dad. Caroline has a way of bringing people together."

Gregory rose from his seat.

"Now go back to the city, and tell Ben to send me today’s statistics report and sales figures."

Kent nodded and departed, leaving Gregory to ponder the complexities of their world—and the challenges his son was about to face.

---

As the clock struck 9 p.m., I began wrapping up my shift as a cashier at Lorraine & Co. antique shop.

It had been a bustling day. We’d sold loads of old dolls, vintage clothes, sneakers, and home accessories.

The shop was finally closed for the night. Nancy, my coworker, had already gone home, so I was left to tally up the day’s sales alone.

I loved working for my boss, Miss Pennymoor—she was like a grandmother to me. As I was finishing up, she poked her head into the room.

"Once you're done with the report, you can close up shop," she said with a warm smile, clutching her purse.

"My daughter Tina just arrived from the Bahamas, and I need to pick her up."

I looked up from my work, intrigued.

"That’s wonderful, Miss Pennymoor! When did Tina get back?" I asked, stacking the cash into neat piles.

"She arrived this morning and is staying at a hotel," Miss Pennymoor said, smoothing out her skirt. "I’m going to bring her home."

I smiled.

"Okay, ma’am. I’ll lock up once I’m done here. Please give Tina my best regards."

Miss Pennymoor’s eyes twinkled.

"I will, Caroline. Goodnight, dear."

"Goodnight, ma’am," I replied, watching her hurry out the door to reunite with her daughter.

---

My eyes glazed over as I stared at the computer screen and the sales ledger. My mind was miles away.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through the address list, then I stopped.

"Found you," I whispered, staring at the screen.

"Dad," I said, louder this time, "I’m coming. I promised I’d find you—and I will."

Then my voice turned dark.

"And you, Serbian... You’re going to pay. Tonight. You’ll tell me where you’ve hidden him. You’ll answer for what you’ve done."

I let it all out, talking to the empty, dark shop.

I needed to say it—to hear myself say it—to quiet the storm of fear and rage churning inside me.

***

As my old car slowly rolled down the peaceful street, a profound sense of calm washed over me. It was hard to say what caused it—the out-of-this-world silence, the scent of fresh-cut grass from the manicured lawns, or the gentle evening air.

Anyway, I kept staring at the houses, paying attention to details not to miss the exact home of my wicked uncle.

"Yeppie, found you," I muttered, my gaze fixed on a house with a long and uneven terrain.

Years ago when I was a little kid, my father and I usually visited Uncle Serbian when he was not a NUTHEAD and evil, and my father would discuss with him about business issues while Lysterr and I would play on the neatly-cut lawn.

usually, it was truth or dare, Sometimes I dare Lysterr to run around the house- hos father's apartment other times, I will ask him to tell me what he lobes the most. That was it, an innocent girl having fun. While on the other hand, Lysterr was mischievous as always, he would dare me to eat black sand or grass while he laughs mockingly.

He would even pinch me on the cheek and run away. Letting out a big scream, Mom would rush to me, consoling me while applying some sun-burn cream on my redden cheeks.

Does incidents created a strain between my mom and Serbian's mom; ( who was alive as of then ) infact it did between me and Lysterr, we never loved each other as family again. I and mom stopped visiting Serbian family because of tge bullying.

Mom told father about Lysterr's unruly behavior.

"I will talk to my brother concerning his son" Father reassured us.

But, whether he did that, we cant tell because mom and I stopped visiting Serbian's family entirely.

How TIME flies! How things CHANGE!!

Years ago, we are a family In Love. Today, we have become our sole enemies. Here I am now, seeking revenge for what the Serbian has done.

I walked swiftly through the terrain to the front porch, scared, but REVENGE got a bigger grip on me.

"No matter what, i must get the information i needed today" I swore beneath my breath.

Actually, 1108 Crescent Street was a silent, potable edifice with a front porch. Climbing the stairs to the front door, I knocked.

I sensed movements behind on the other side of the door.

"Oh! "Look who is here." Lysterr, Serbian's son, looking all shaggy and disoriented (it seems he was drinking liquor earlier on), gave me a sneering remark.

"... Come to check if your lousy father is here."

That was it! THAT WAS THE LIMIT I COULD TAKE.

I quickly pounced on his back from the doorway, like a predator attacking his prey. We had a brawl as we kicked and rolled on the floor all the way from the passage to the living room.

Lysterr was already changing; his first punch sent his claws gnawing deep into my left ribs.

With the pain, I let out a loud groan.

"You piece of shit!"

Spontaneously, I bite into his neck, draining the life out of him. To my surprise, he couldn't fight back.

I could taste his alcohol-induced blood. Just like that, in a matter of seconds, I had a flashbackof what Serbian did to my father the night I was banished. Where he was and his condition.

The basement was on another side of town, at the outskirts. Right there, Father sat on the cold and dirty floor, looking famished and homeless.

I stumbled back, legs suddenly weak, and sank to the floor. The room swam before my eyes, and I stared—blank and hollow—at Lysterr’s still form.

He was gone.

And I was left with the weight of what I’d done... and the desperate hope that I’d found my father in time.

What have I done? I questioned myself. I knew that no matter what happened, the outcome of what I did would be disastrous. I had killed the sole bloodlineof my own pack leader, Serbian's only SON.

"I am not afraid," I reassured myself, shoving aside the feeling of guilt and remembering the humiliation, shame, and captivity of my own father caused by Serbians.

Little droplets of tears fell from my eyes; I wiped them with my kerchief.

All I wanted right now was to find Kent, lean on his strong broad shoulders, and tell him that I had a brawl with the son of the alpha of my pack, which eventually led to his death.

I wanted to call Kent but brushed away the idea.

I hope Kent would be able to understand that what I had done is for the both of us, for the sake of our future together.

"He will."I spoke out loudly.

Confidently, I already knew he would do anything to protect me.

"I am ready for whatever might come."

What was I going to do now?. NOTHING! but to prepare for the worst that could happen.

Gently, I started the ignition and drove off before twilight.

***

Reaching home, I was feeling unrest and dizzy; I had actually done something despicable and dishonorable. Maybe a little shower could calm my nerves.

Showered, I walked toward the kitchen; something for dinner might help. I stared at the pack of cereal lying on the marble lining of the kitchen pane.

"Nope, not hungry, just tired," I muttered to myself.

I gently switched off the kitchen light and drifted to my room. Still feeling uneasy and dizzy, I grabbed my phone that was lying on the bed and dialed.

"Sweet berry, what's up? I have been calling you all day but couldn't reach you. What's up?"

“Kent…” My voice cracked, the tears making every word heavy. “I need you… please. Just come.”

There was a beat of silence on the line, then his voice—low, certain, and impossibly gentle. “I’m on my way, love. Lock the door. Wait for me.”

Fifteen minutes later, I heard the soft growl of his car outside. My chest loosened just knowing he was close.

The front door opened, his familiar scent—clean leather and a hint of cedar—filling the air before I even saw him. He stepped into my room, eyes sweeping over me with such worry that my throat closed up.

“Come here,” he said softly. I went, and his arms were around me instantly, pulling me against the steady rise and fall of his chest. My cold fingers curled into his shirt, and I felt the beat of his heart under my palm.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair. “Nothing else matters right now. Just you.”

---