Prologue: The Makings of a Villain

Had I been a normal child, I would have hesitated. I would have felt guilty, sad, and maybe pity for the man in front of me but I didn’t. The warm glow from the full moon lit up the dark room. The rays caressed my cheek, squeezed my arm, and wrapped around me. I closed my eyes as they held me like a blanket and promised me that everything would be okay. It was as if she were whispering to me, telling me she was here with me. As if confirming that I was making the right choice. It felt as if the moon agreed with my choice. I was comforted with the knowledge that there was nothing wrong with what I was about to do.

She told me there was nothing wrong with what I was doing, that there was nothing wrong with what I was about to do. If anything, she urged me forward. I lifted my chin and smiled at her, the Moon, not the Goddess that left me here by myself. Not the Goddess that did nothing to help me all those times I prayed to her. Not the Goddess that left me alone when I needed her most. No, it was to the moon that I looked, it was the moon that I worshiped.

The Moon had always been with me. She was always there, always watching, and I was never alone. I nodded as if answering her. I dipped my chin, lowering my gaze to the man on his knees in front of me. Still unaware of the situation he’s found himself in, he glared up at me. I’ll rectify that soon. Our roles have been reversed and I revel in it. Standing above him, it feels so good to be the one staring down at him. The days of being at his mercy were behind me, no longer will I fear him.

Today, things were changing. I promised myself that I would never be put into that position ever again. I picked up the Wolfsbane-soaked dagger. His eyes widened and plea after pathetic plea fell from his lying tongue, but they fell on deaf ears. I stood above him, letting him think he had a chance of persuading me.

The child I was died long ago. I stood there with my arm raised, the moon glinting off my dagger. I stared down into his fear-filled eyes. His death would be slow and painful. I would relish every second.

I savored this moment of power. How many times had I pleaded for him to stop? How many times had I begged until I lost my voice? How many times had I begged until I finally realized he wasn’t going to listen? How long did it take for him to break the innocence in me? Had I ever been innocent? I don’t remember being different from how I am now. I can’t recall a time when I felt I could be free, but look at me now. Knowing that freedom was within my grasp sent a jolt of adrenaline through my body. I could almost taste it on my tongue.

Look at where I was. The man who deprived me of sleep as a child and the man who promised to leave my sister alone if I did what he wanted. The man who forced his way into my life and into the security that was supposed to be my room was in front of me, on his knees, pleading for his life. Without a father who cared enough to even stop his best friend, I never expected anyone to help me. No one would stand up to the Beta. I quickly realized I needed to save myself.

Now that the time had come, I felt powerful and it was amazing. Vengeance was finally mine. Never had I ever thought that this day would come. I never thought I would get out from under him. Today, I did that. I didn’t care what happened after today. I was sure that after today, I would be killed. My mind wasn’t there. No, what I wanted was this man’s death. I didn’t care about the throne, or taking over this pack. What I wanted was his blood on my hands. I wanted to see it spill from his flesh and splash on me. I needed to feel the warm liquid as it rained one me. I wanted to bathe in it, to know I had finally taken back what he’d taken.

Today, I would get what I deserve and take back what he’s taken from me. I will squash the man who defiled me, ruined me, and made me into the monster that I am. I will get rid of the threat to my sister. I’ve thought of this day for as long as I could remember. I wanted to slit his throat but he didn’t deserve a quick death. My father had killed someone during a meeting, he’d slit his throat, and the man had died shortly after. With every bit of strength I have after what he’s done to me, I plunge the dagger into his shoulder.

Air filled my lungs and warmth filled my chest. It was as if I were reclaiming a part of myself, and I had just picked up the first piece. His scream pierces the night air but I don’t give him time to look down at the wound. Lifting the blood-coated dagger I feel his blood splatter me, as if in payment for what he’s done to me. I plunge it over and over again into his chest, reclaiming piece by bloody piece of myself. The moon shines brightly tonight and I smile as I drag the dagger down his chest. His skin spreads for me.