Taking Revenge to My Ex-Mate Who Injured My Father

I lashed out instinctively, throwing a punch—but my body was already broken. I stood no chance against her.

In the blink of an eye, she slammed me to the ground.

Her foot pressed hard against my chest as she bent down, lips grazing my ear, her voice low and vicious.

“If you keep refusing to submit,” she whispered, “I’ll make sure you understand the price. Your father will die in a prison cell because of you.”

I struggled wildly and scraped my nails down her ankle, leaving a deep, bloody mark.

Just then, sensing Ryke approaching, Syrelle’s expression shifted instantly. She clutched her forehead and let herself fall backward as if I had shoved her.

Ryke rushed out at that exact moment. The bowl in his hand shattered on the stone floor, the crack echoing sharply through the hall.

He charged toward us, his face twisted by rage, his wolf aura flaring violently.

“Lavinia!” he roared. “How dare you lay a hand on Syrelle? Do you know what the pup she’s carrying is worth? Even your life and your father’s wouldn’t be enough to repay it!”

He grabbed my shoulders and shoved me with full force.

My body flew backward, my spine slamming into the sharp edge of the entryway. The impact felt like a war hammer crushing my chest.

Pain exploded through me. My vision went dark. I staggered, then collapsed.

Ryke’s furious shouting, Syrelle’s trembling sobs, and the murmurs of onlookers tangled together, piercing my ears like countless needles.

I tried to move—but my body refused to obey.

My consciousness fractured, slipping away rapidly.

In the final instant before darkness swallowed me whole, I saw Ryke frowning at me—yet his arms were wrapped tightly around Syrelle, shielding her, terrified she might be startled.

Then everything went black.

***

When I opened my eyes again, the first thing that struck me was the sharp scent of medicinal herbs and antiseptic moon salves.

A white stone ceiling wavered above me. I tried to move my fingers, but they felt weighed down, distant.

The curtain rustled aside. A healer stepped up to the bedside, his expression composed.

“You’re awake?”

I nodded. My throat burned as if scorched by dry sand.

The healer sighed softly, choosing his words with care.

“Lavinia, when you were brought in, you were suffering from severe internal bleeding.”

My heart clenched. I forced the words out. “So…?”

He paused briefly.

“The pup is gone.”

My breath caught, frozen in my chest.

“The… pup?”

The word slipped out of me, faint and disbelieving.

“You were three weeks along,” he continued gently. “It was too early to sense through moon magic. But your injuries were too severe. The embryo could not survive. We’ve already completed the necessary procedure.”

Cold spread slowly through my fingertips.

So I had been pregnant.

Amid the blows. The curses. The despair.

A tiny life had been growing inside me.

And now it was gone.

Because of their shove.

Because of their violence.

Because of their cruelty.

Seeing my silence, the healer lowered his voice.

“Your injuries were clearly caused by an assault. We’ve reported it to the Pack Authority. Once you recover, you’ll need to give a formal statement.”

I closed my eyes. My chest felt ripped open.

Ryke’s merciless shove.

Syrelle’s triumphant smile.

Her words about letting my father rot in prison.

Each memory sliced into me like a blade.

The pup was gone.

And the mating bond I had struggled to protect collapsed completely in that moment.

I opened my eyes. My voice was calm—cold as a winter moon.

“There’s no need to proceed with the report. Please preserve all healing records, emergency notes, and surgical documents.”

The healer paused, clearly surprised.

“…Very well. But you must rest.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied quietly, my tone leaving no room for refusal.

The healer could only nod and step out.