bChapter /bb147 /b

India’s POV

The maning after, they dragged me back to the basement. My body ached from being crammed in that closet for hours, but the physical pain was nothingpared to the devastation in my heart.

Days burred ingethet in that concrete prison. They fed me just enough to keep me alive, solfshanecing every meal to keep my wolf subdued. I lost track of time until one afternoon, the Luna returned with a new from of torture.

11 heard your nose is like a cute little wildcats?” She held up a phone screen inches from my fare.

| saw cur old chat messages–Bodrigos texts praising my upturned nose, calling a sexy,paring me to a wildest. The memory Hit me like a physical blow.

It had been our first anniversary. He’d gives me a red coral bracelet that I’d worn every day since. I’d been so happy, so carefree, that I’d gotten ice cream on my nose while celebrating. bHe’d /bkissed it away,ughing at my clumsiness before apologizing that he had pack business that night.

After he left, he’d sent that text:

“Your nose se cute and upturned, like ba /bvery little wildcat.

Now his mate pressed the hilt of a silver dagger against that same nose, turning bto /bone of her warriors. “Cor it off.

The warrior hesitated. “Lunab, /bthat’s-

“Did I stutter? Her voice tumed deadly. “The whore seduced my mate with her looks. Let’s see how many menfn9c0f The rightful source is find·novel/fn9c0f

men she can seduce without her pretty little nose”

blood pouring

The pain bwas /bindescribable. They held me down as the silver de sliced through cartge and flesh. I screamed untill my throat was raw, down my face, choking on the metallic taste. The silver prevented any healing, ensuring the wound would scar permanently-

But she wasn’t done. bOver /bthe next week, she systematically destroyed everything Rodrigo had everplimented about my appearance. bMy /b“silly hair” was bhacked /boff in uneven chunks. My “graceful fingers were broken and allowed to heal crookedb. /b

“Thereb,/b” she said finally, holding up a mirror to show me my reflection. “Look at yourself. See how many men will want you now, you hideous creature.

The woman in the mirror bwas /bunrecognizable. Where once there had been beauty, only rain remained. The hole where bmy /bnose had been was the worst–a gaping wound that would never properly heal bthanks /bto the wolfsbane, they’d brubbed /binto it.

*Tai not going to kill byou/b,” bthe /bbLuna /bannounced, her satisfaction evident. “Death would be too merciful. Live with your ugliness. Let it remind you every day of what happens when byou /btouch what belongs to another.”

They dumped me on the side of a highway, miles from anywhe

anywhere, I dragged myself t

to the nearest town, keeping to shadows, hiding my destroyed fee.

When I finally bmade /bit home, my mother’s screams echoed through our small house. She wept until her eyes were swollen shut, holding me as I sobbed our the whole terrible story.

Over the next bdays/b, she threw herself into her work with frightening intensity. My mother bwas /bbgifted /bwith poison–particrly those that worked bon /bwerewolves. She created bsomething /bspecial: coloress, odorless, and instantly lethal even to the strongest Alpha.

make them bpay/b, bshe /bpromised, her gentle hands now bsteady /bwith bdeadly /bpurpose. “Both of them.”

She used bour /bsavings to bhire /binformants, btracking /bbRodrigo /band his mate’s movements. When she learned of their uing vacation to a private resort, she began nning her revenge.

But I couldn’t let her risk herself for my mistakes.

The night before she nned to leave, I waited until she bwas /basleep. I took the poison vial from her workshop, along with the travel documents bshed /bprepared. My mother had taught me well over the years–bI /bknew how to move unseen, how to blend with shadows despite my disfigurement.

The resort was beautiful, isted, bperfect /bfor a romantic getaway. I watched them from a distance, my beam turning bto /bbstone /bas I observed their happinessb, /b

b1/2 /b

Theyughed over dinner, fed each other dessen, walked hand–in–hand along the beachb, /b

On theirst night, I made my moveb. /b

The Luna bliked /bto take a moonlight

im alone while Rodrigu showered. I waited in the shadows by the pool, the poison vial cold in my patim. When emerged from the water, reaching for her towel, I bwas /bthere.

“Remember me?” I pulled back my hood, revealing my mitted bface/bb. /b

He scream died in her throat as I forced the poison between her lips. It worked exactly as my mother had promised–instant, silent, final. She crumpled to the pool deck, her eyes wide with shock that faded to emptiness.

I should have ran then. Should have disappeared into the night. But I needed Rodrigo to know, needed him to

to understand why.

I was still standing over her body when his Beta found me.

The scandal brocked /bthe werewolf world. A prominent pack’s Lana, murdered by a disfigured witch. The story spread like wildfire, growing more twisted with each telling.

The version people loved most painted me bas /ba seductress bwho’d /bused love potions to ensnare an Alpha, then poisoned his mate out of jealousy. In their narrative, Rodrigo was the grieving widower, seeking justice for his beloved Luna.

Every member of the Ironwater Pack howled for my blood. They suggested burning me alive, ying me, entombing me in concrete and dropping me in the ocean. When it came to torture, werewolves had vivid imaginations.

But I survived.

The night before my execution–they’d settled on burning–Rodrigo came to my cell. He’d arranged bfor /banother female prisoner to take my ceb, /bsomeone already condemned whose death would satisfy the bloodthirsty crowd.

saved my life once,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “I owe byou /bthat much. We’re even now,

I pointed to the hole where my nose bhad /bbeen. “Even? Can you give me bback /bmy face? Can you bundo /bwhat you did to me? Why d

did you lie to me?”

“My Luna is dead. You got your revenge.” His voice was thick with emotion, his brow furrowed deeply. He couldn’t look directly at my ruined bface/bb, /bhis gaze sliding away whenever he tried. “I bhad /bmy reasons for what I did. Sometimes we don’t have choices.”

Beasons. Choices.

Every bman /bseemed to have his reasons. Just like my father had his reasons for abandoning my mother, for never acknowledging I existed.

“Just go,” Rodrigo said. “Don’t let my people catch you again.”

From that bday /bforward, I wore a mask. The physical scars were bad enough, but the emotional ones can deeper. Trust, love, hope–shed cut those baway /bbas /bthoroughly as she’d carved up my face.

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Crowned by Fate