Reborn As The Beastmen's Wicked Wife

Brennan was the first to break the silence. He sneered, "Even without your memory, you're still cunning. Three months is plenty of time for you to scheme something nasty."

Dangelo twirled the discarded quill between his fingers, his eyes dark. "We have no obligation to play house with a crazy woman," he added coldly.

Isolde knew words weren't enough. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Using every ounce of strength left in her battered body, she pushed herself up from the floor. Her legs refused to fully support her, forcing her to heavily drop to her knees beside the table. She dragged her upper body up, leaning most of her weight against the rotting wood. Before they could stop her, she picked up the quill. But she didn't sign the parchment.

Under their shocked gazes, Isolde raised her right hand and drove the sharp, metal end of the quill hard across the pad of her thumb, slicing a deep, jagged line through the flesh.

Blood welled up instantly. Isolde gasped but didn't scream. She pressed her bleeding palm hard against her own chest, over her heart.

She looked up, her eyes clearer and more resolute than they had ever been. "I swear to the Beast God," she declared, her voice ringing with a raw intensity, "by my soul and my life. If, after three months, you three still wish to annul the contract, I, Isolde Perry, will sign without condition. I will exile myself to the wasteland. If I break this oath, let my soul be devoured by beasts, never to find peace."

As the words left her lips, a faint golden light flickered across the ceiling. The Law of the Beast God had acknowledged the vow.

The three men froze. In this world, no one dared make a false oath to the Beast God. It was a curse worse than death.

Brennan's mouth hung open. He stared at the blood dripping from her palm, a flicker of something complex in his eyes. Dangelo's mocking smile was gone, replaced by a deep frown.

Cameron stared at her for a long moment. Then, he stepped forward and swept the three parchments off the table, tucking them back into his coat.

"Since you've sworn to the Beast God," Cameron said, his voice low, "we will give you three months. But don't expect any care from us."

Isolde's tense muscles finally went slack. She had won the gamble.

But the moment the adrenaline faded, the reality of her injuries crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her vision went black. Her body went limp, collapsing forward like a puppet with cut strings.

Cameron, standing right in front of her, instinctively reached out. His arms caught her falling body, pulling her against his chest.

Isolde's head rested against him. She could smell a faint, bitter scent of herbs on his clothes.

Dangelo and Brennan didn't move to help. They just watched.

Cameron frowned, looking down at the woman in his arms. She was as light as a piece of paper, her face as pale as a ghost. A strange, uncomfortable feeling twisted in his gut.

He carried her to the broken wooden bed and laid her down gently. As he pulled his arm back, his gaze landed on the bloody mat of hair at the back of her head. He remembered the moment, just hours ago, when he had shoved her.

He leaned in close. His eyes traced the gruesome, bloody mat of hair, and for a fleeting second, the cold scholar's mask slipped. He looked at her pale face, and a sudden, uncharacteristic wave of hesitation washed over him. He had pushed her on purpose. It was a calculated move to rid them of a monster. Yet, seeing her broken like this, he questioned his own descent into the very cruelty he despised.

Isolde, hovering on the edge of consciousness, felt the tense, complicated silence radiating from him. Her heart clenched in fear. But she forced herself to keep her breathing steady, playing dead.

Cameron lingered for a moment, making peace with his own guilt. He had been a scholar once, not a killer.

He straightened up and turned to the others. "She's lost too much blood. If she dies before the three months are up, we'll be charged with murder. Get some food."

Brennan cursed under his breath and stormed out into the snow. Dangelo just snorted and walked to the far corner of the room, closing his eyes.

The room fell quiet. Isolde lay in the dark, her mind racing. The heavy, suffocating silence of Cameron's lingering gaze still chilled her to the bone. This three-month battle for survival had only just begun.