Chapter1

Now, only my sixth brother was left, clinging to his last breath. He had always been so proud of his looks, but now I had shaved off all his fur with a silver dagger. I was inexperienced; when I reached his head, I accidentally sliced off a piece of his scalp along with the hair. A hoarse, guttural sound rattled in his throat. I couldn't make out what he was trying to say. I was about to tell him to speak up when I suddenly remembered—I had already cut out his tongue and thrown it to the stray dogs. Sixth Brother used to love taking me everywhere to play. Whenever his friends complimented my beauty, he would proudly stroke my cheek and say, "My sister, of course she's the prettiest." Remembering this, I took his right hand—the one he always used to touch my face—and began slicing it away, slowly, methodically, piece by piece. By the time the pack judges and guards rushed in, Sixth Brother had breathed his last. Only his unclosed left eye remained, fixed on me in a death glare. I let out an impatient sigh. Perhaps shocked by my audacity to act so crazily in front of everyone, a few young pack guards, who had never seen battle, bent over and vomited. Even the seasoned veterans looked ghastly pale. "Lyla!" someone shouted sharply. "Drop your weapon, now!" At the guard captain's command, they quickly surrounded me. I merely smiled faintly and glanced toward two coat stands by the hall entrance. The captain instinctively followed my gaze, and his face contorted in horror— He saw it. Hanging there was the coat I had fashioned from my father and mother's skins. Blood was still dripping from it. I doubted any criminal had ever received such 'special treatment,' enough to stir the entire pack council. But no matter how they pressed me for a motive, I just lowered my head, admiring my own hands with a faint smile, saying nothing. These hands had ended thousands of family lives in the cruelest ways imaginable. And I, the deeply sinful murderer, was as composed as if I'd been invited for afternoon tea. The head judge was utterly infuriated. He slammed the table again, roaring, "Why?! Why did you do this?!" I replied lazily, "Because I felt like it." A guard's voice trembled, "When you had your first shift, burning with fever, who risked everything to save you? Your mother—Mrs. Leilani! She shed her coat, braved the cold in just a thin dress, and prayed to the moon goddess for you for three days and nights!" "She even ventured into the poisonous mist swamp to gather herbs for you, her knees scraping raw until they were bloody and mangled… She fell gravely ill for three months afterward! And you—you skinned her and made a coat from her hide?!" I answered with a hint of regret, "Yes… What a pity. If only she had stumbled into a hunter's trap back in that swamp, smashed her head beyond recognition… then I wouldn't have had to go through all this trouble today. Killing her… was exhausting work." A soldier, his eyes bloodshot, yelled, "And your father, Bob?! He fought his way up from being a rogue to earning the whole pack's respect! He taught you everything he knew! Even his own sons didn't get that privilege! Everyone knows how much he loved you! Is this how you repay him?!" I curled my lips, almost proudly. "I've always respected my father. Precisely because of that, I took special care to preserve his pelt in the most pristine condition—you have no idea how difficult that was. Out of respect for him, I peeled it off bit by bit with a silver knife myself… and I did it while he was still breathing." Instantly, the judges turned ashen. The very air seemed to freeze solid. My nonchalant attitude clearly made them want to tear me to shreds. They cursed me furiously, calling me a "monster," "ungrateful wretch," "cold-blooded beast!" I let out a soft laugh. "How can you call me cold-blooded? I was being considerate. I worried that Father, Mother, and my brothers might lack attendants on their journey to heaven, so I sent all the servants down to accompany them—oh, and I didn't even forget the carriage drivers. They're fully staffed now." "They treasured you like a jewel, and you didn't even spare a single soul! You're a devil!" I nodded, replying indifferently, "Thank you for the compliment." These men, among the most authoritative in the pack, were now so enraged they lost all gentlemanly demeanor, hurling insults. I just found it boring. What was the point of this endless interrogation? Better to just convict and sentence me quickly. After all, I had long since stopped wanting to live. Just then, a guard entered the hall respectfully. "The Alpha has sent someone." He stole a glance at me and added in a low voice, "It's Mr. Lambert." I slowly shifted my gaze. Lambert—the Alpha's most favored adopted son, the acknowledged future Alpha of The Blackwood Pack. If not for this bloodbath, in three days, it would have been our wedding day.