The Hidden True Bloodline's Fated Revenge

Aine Salazar POV:

"I, Cornelious Maynard, reject you, Aine Salazar, as my mate."

I stood frozen in the center of the Grand Hall as his quiet declaration silenced the crowd. Cornelious-the fated mate I had loved for years-faced me with nothing but disgust in his cold gray eyes, while my adopted sister, Isela, clung possessively to his arm.

"If you hadn't stolen Isela's rightful place as my mate, she would never have been forced to live as my mistress," he said, each word laced with contempt. "She should have been my Luna from the beginning. You were nothing but a mistake forced on me by the Moon Goddess."

Each word was a hammer blow against my soul.

An indescribable agony erupted from the bond between us, a metaphysical tearing of spirit. My inner wolf let out a piercing howl, a sound no one else could hear. No!

My legs trembled, threatening to give out. The whispers around me swelled into a tidal wave of mockery and cruel amusement. I saw the undisguised contempt on their faces. I was nothing but a shameless, low-born Omega who had dared to reach for the sun.

I forced myself to look up, to search his eyes for a flicker of doubt, a hint of regret.

There was none. Only resolution.

And beside him, clinging to his arm, was Isela. My adopted sister. She was draped on him in a posture of victory, her head resting on his shoulder.

Her light brown eyes, filled with a performance of sympathy, met mine. But beneath the pretense, the triumph in them was a venomous snake striking true. Her lips moved, forming two silent words I could read perfectly.

"You lose."

According to the ritual, I had to respond. The words were ash in my mouth, a poison I had to swallow.

"I, Aine Salazar, accept your rejection."

The pain doubled. My vision blurred. It felt like I was spitting out my own heart.

I thought that would be the end of my humiliation. Instead, Cornelious raised one hand, and the guards stationed around the hall immediately stepped forward.

"Accepting my rejection does not absolve you of your crimes," he announced coldly. "For months, you abused your position as my mate to threaten Isela, intercepted her letters, and bribed servants to spy on her. Three days ago, you ordered a maid to put wolfsbane in her tonic. The remaining poison was found among your belongings."

Shocked gasps erupted around us. Isela shrank against him, her eyes filling with carefully summoned tears. "Please don't punish her too severely, Cornelious. She only did those things because she was afraid of losing you. I don't want her to die because of me."

"That's a lie!" I forced the words through the agony tearing through my chest. "I never threatened her, and I never ordered anyone to poison her!"

But the accusations had been constructed to look like the truth. That morning, guards had "discovered" a vial of wolfsbane hidden in my wardrobe, while two servants loyal to Isela claimed they had heard me give the order. I understood too late that Cornelious and Isela had prepared these charges before the rejection ceremony. They didn't merely want me to surrender my place as his mate. They wanted me disgraced, silenced, and stripped of any chance to expose them.

Cornelious looked at me as if my denial only proved my guilt. "Attempting to murder the woman I have chosen as my Luna is treason against the Maynard Pack. You will remain in the dungeon until the Pack tribunal passes judgment. If Isela chooses to plead for your life, I may consider sparing you."

Cornelious didn't even grant me a final glance. He turned, wrapping a protective arm around Isela, shielding her as if she were a priceless treasure and I was the filth on the floor.

At his signal, the Pack guards grabbed me. Their hands were rough, their grips unforgiving. My struggles were pathetic, weak. They dragged me from the hall and down a long flight of stone stairs toward the dungeons where accused traitors awaited judgment.

The heavy stone door slammed shut behind me, sealing me in darkness. It cut off the light, the sound, the world. I collapsed onto the cold, damp floor, the twin agonies of my body and soul making it impossible to breathe.

I don't know how long I lay there.

The door creaked open again. It wasn't Cornelious.

It was Isela. She held a small oil lamp, the flickering light casting dancing shadows on her sweet, cruel smile.

"Sister, you look so pathetic," she cooed, crouching down. Her innocent eyes roamed over my broken form. "Cornelious isn't coming for you. He's with me now."

I had no strength to speak. I could only glare, pouring all my remaining life force into the hatred in my eyes.

She laughed, a light, tinkling sound that grated on my raw nerves. "Don't look at me like that. If you have to blame someone, blame yourself for being in the way. Did you really think you deserved to be the future Luna of the Maynard Pack? You may have Salazar blood, but you'll always be a filthy little Omega from the mountains."

Her foot, clad in delicate silk, pressed down on the back of my hand. She ground her heel into my knuckles.

"A weakling who can't even keep her own mate."

The sharp crack of bone was followed by a surge of white-hot pain. A choked scream escaped my lips.

"That hurts?" Isela's smile widened. "This is just the beginning." She pulled a long, thin silver needle from her sleeve.

My pupils contracted. Silver.

For a werewolf, silver is a death sentence. It burns our skin, silences our inner wolf, unravels our very being.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. "Did you know? Mother Annice has always loved me more. She said you were like a debt collector, that your very birth was a mistake."

I was Lady Annice Salazar's true-born daughter, the rightful heiress of the Salazar family. But war had broken out on the night of my birth, forcing my mother to flee the family estate and seek shelter in a remote farming village. Raiders attacked before dawn, and amid the bloodshed and chaos, I was accidentally switched with the newborn daughter of a poor farming couple.

From that moment on, our lives were stolen from their rightful paths. I grew up as an impoverished girl in the mountains, while Isela took my place and became the cherished daughter of the Salazar family, surrounded by wealth, privilege, and love.

When I was twelve, the Salazar family finally uncovered the truth. They brought me home and restored my name and status, but Lady Annice couldn't bear to part with the child she had raised for twelve years. Isela was allowed to remain in the family. And somehow, even after I returned, she was still the beloved daughter-while I was treated like the intruder who had come to steal her life.

Her words were another blade, sharper than the silver. All my life, I had craved my mother's love. It turned out that in her eyes, I was just an error.

Isela plunged the needle into my shoulder.

Searing, electrifying agony convulsed through me. I could feel my strength draining away, my inner wolf whimpering in torment.

She left one puncture mark after another, admiring her work as if I were a canvas and my pain was her art.

"There," she said, dropping the needle. She stood, looking down at me. "Now you can't threaten me anymore. Enjoy what little time you have left, my dear sister."

She turned and left. The stone door boomed shut once more.

Lying in a pool of my own blood and despair, my consciousness began to fade. The memories of my life flashed before me.

The disgust in Cornelious's eyes. The triumph on Isela's face. The cold, indifferent back of my mother, Annice.

Before the endless darkness swallowed me, I used my last breath to forge a vow in the depths of my soul.

If... if I had one more chance...

I would never again love Cornelious Maynard.

I would make Isela Salazar pay for her crimes in blood.

And I would make every single person who belittled me, who humiliated me, who hurt me, suffer a thousand times over!