Hermosa POV

“You don’t have to do this,” I said, stepping backward, my palms slick with sweat.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick,” he smiled darkly, his eyes glinting in the night—enough to make me squirm.

Rapheal wasn’t just a werewolf—he was a beast with terrifying strength. Veins bulged along his arms, his pupils darkening as he approached.

The streetlight, as if in agreement with my death sentence, flickered on and off. I inhaled the damp air, clinging to one side of the wall.

Perhaps, I thought, this was a good spot to make a stand—to let it be known I didn’t die without a fight.

“Stop sticking to the walls!” he growled. “You’re just making this harder on yourself. I love to chase my prey.”

“Hurting me would also mean hurting yourself!” I screamed, praying someone might hear me—that rescue was near.

My heart dropped.

Silence. Then Rapheal’s voice again.

“I am the to-be Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack,” he grumbled. “Nothing can hurt me!”

“We’re still mates, remember?!” I shouted, panic rising. Had I just said the wrong thing?

“Mates,” he scoffed, as if it were a disgusting word. “I dissolved that a long time ago—when I was f**king Cammy,” he said calmly.

My eyes widened in horror. So he had broken our mate bond long ago? He’d gone that far to deceive me—pretending love while betraying me.

I felt stupid—humiliated—for believing his lies, his promises, his fake love.

“Wait a minute. You thought I loved you, Hermosa?” he chuckled, the cruelty in his voice slicing through me.

The laugh was low, mocking. It punched me in the gut. I hated myself for not seeing the truth sooner.

“I loved you, Rapheal! How could you?!” I screamed, my voice trembling with rage and heartbreak. “You made me fall for you—while you were in Cammy’s bed the whole time!”

I wanted to scream, to strike him, to plunge a dagger through his chest for killing her. But instead, I whispered, “Why? Was Cammy just a tool for power?”

“She wasn’t supposed to die,” he drawled. “Her only mistake was trying to betray me.”

Without warning, he lunged at me with werewolf speed. “I’ll have to kill you too.” His long claws traced my neck in a sick, playful manner. “Those eyes have seen too much.”

I closed my eyes as his breath brushed my skin. I was disgusted, but powerless to stop him.

I wasn’t going to die like this—not in this lonely alley. I kicked him in the groin.

“Ohhh, you—” he gasped, but caught up with me instantly. I knew I was no match for him.

He shoved my head aside, exposing my throat. Licking my ear softly, he whispered, “You don’t even know who you are, Hermosa. That made everything easy.”

*What is he trying to say? Who am I?*

I guess I’d never know now. A tear slid down my cheek as I waited for death’s embrace. The business card slipped from my hand, falling to the ground.

His fangs slid out, grazing my neckline, ready to drain my life. I stiffened. This wasn’t death—it was pure torture. His warm breath burned against my skin.

For a moment, I thought I sensed hesitation.

“If I can’t be with you, nobody else should,” Rapheal murmured.

The streetlight flickered off completely. The night was perfect—too perfect—for this kill.

I scanned desperately, but there was no escape—no weapon to buy me time.

In one swift motion, his fangs plunged into my neck. I let out a sharp yelp as blood dripped from his mouth. Then, just as suddenly, he threw me aside.

I hit the ground with a thud, my eyes wide open, blood gushing from my neck.

It felt peaceful. Oddly quiet.

Watching yourself die was supposed to be horrifying—but I smiled weakly.

The sight of Rapheal stumbling, clutching his neck and chest as if poisoned, brought me a strange peace. I had managed to hurt him—and that was enough.

He wasn’t that powerful after all.

*If the Moon Goddess gave me a second chance, I’d make sure to kill him.*

My vision blurred. I saw his eyes blaze red as he formed a fist—ready to finish me.

Then, a loud grumble echoed down the street. So loud it rattled my bones.

It filled me with both dread… and hope.

Rapheal froze. He recognized that sound instantly.

He sprang to his feet, blood still dripping, and ran into the dark—leaving my body behind.

Cold. Empty. Discarded.

Footsteps thundered after him as he fled blindly. My vision dimmed completely… as the wounds finally took over.