The Wolfless Blood Bag's Return: Caught by My Fated Mate

CLAIRE POV:

"You ungrateful little mutt! If you lacked the ability to supply blood for a true daughter of the Hayes family, do you really think we would have ever adopted you?"

The screeching voice of my adoptive grandmother, Meghan Hayes, tore through the lingering haze in my mind. I forced my eyes open, squinting against the harsh, blinding fluorescent lights of a sterile white room. The sharp, chemical scent of antiseptic burned my nose, but the dull, throbbing ache in my left arm grounded me in reality.

I looked down. A thick plastic tube was taped securely to my inner elbow, steadily draining my dark red blood into a clear collection bag hanging from a metal stand.

"Look, the little monster is finally awake," Meghan sneered, her face twisting with undisguised disgust. She stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. As the elder Luna of our pack, she always displayed her contempt for me openly. "Keep your eyes on the floor. Hannah needs your silver-lunar blood. It is the only substance keeping her wolf alive this month. Harvesting it is our sole reason for keeping you around."

My head pounded in rhythm with the beeping heart monitor. I closed my eyes, letting the reality of the situation wash over me.

During my coma, I wasn't just lying in bed. My consciousness went to another world.

I became Shadowfall, the successor of the Mooncrown Alliance. I went to a realm far beyond this world, where I spent over a decade forging myself into a living weapon.

Yet, the universe had granted me an impossible return.

I was back.

I returned to my original world, back to my weak and ravaged body. The memories of this life felt like a distant, faded nightmare.

I had spent twenty years as a voiceless, abused foster child, kept around solely as a living, breathing blood bank for the pack's precious Omega. During my long, grueling years as Shadowfall, I had almost entirely forgotten the pathetic existence of being the Hayes family's personal blood supply. The endless days of forced transfusions and verbal abuse had been overwritten by the glory of conquest.

Now, the contrast between the supreme commander I had become and the fragile victim I once was felt jarring. My current muscles lacked the dense power I was accustomed to, and my magic was a mere spark compared to the inferno I used to wield.

But my soul remained that of a conqueror. The mind of Shadowfall was fully intact.

"Grandma, please be gentle with her," a soft, trembling voice chimed in from the corner of the room.

I turned my head. Hannah Hayes sat in a plush armchair, dabbing at her perfectly dry eyes with a tissue. She played the part of the fragile victim flawlessly, her blonde hair falling in soft waves around her pale face. "I am certain Claire slipped and accidentally bumped into me on the stairs this morning. Even though my ankle is badly bruised and I am in immense pain... I forgive her."

I observed her performance with clinical detachment. After surviving the treacherous political courts and ruthless warlords of the Mooncrest Confederacy, Hannah's petty manipulations appeared utterly juvenile.

"You are far too forgiving, Hannah," Meghan snapped, her eyes flashing with sudden, violent fury as she turned her attention back to my bed. "Listen to her, you ungrateful brat! You try to cripple your sister out of pure jealousy, and she still has the heart to defend you!"

Meghan lunged forward. Her hand sliced through the air, aiming a vicious, open-handed slap right at my cheek.

Instinct, honed by decades of relentless warfare, took over.

Snap.

My hand shot up, catching Meghan's wrist mere inches from my face. My grip locked around her delicate bones like a steel vise.

"What are you doing?" Meghan gasped. She yanked her arm, attempting to pull away. I held her firmly in place, letting her struggle against my unyielding hold. Panic flickered in her wide eyes. "Release me!"

"She tripped on her own," I stated. My voice remained perfectly level, carrying a quiet, heavy authority that caused the temperature in the room to plummet.

I shoved Meghan's arm away, sending her stumbling back a few steps until she hit the edge of a medical counter. I turned my focus to Hannah, who immediately shrank back into the upholstery of her chair, her fake tears vanishing instantly.

"Tell her the truth, Hannah," I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. The hospital gown felt paper-thin against my skin, but I pushed past the chill, sitting up with perfect posture.

"Tell her how you tripped over your own feet while I was standing at the top of the landing. Alternatively, we can pull the security footage from the hallway. I am sure the pack elders would love to see exactly how clumsy their precious Omega really is."

Hannah's pale skin flushed a deep, ugly red. "You are speaking nonsense. I fell..."

"You fell, and you realized it was the perfect excuse to lock me in this clinic and drain me again," I interrupted, my tone flat and uncompromising. The truth was a weapon sharp enough on its own.

Meghan recovered her footing, her face now purple with indignation. "You dare speak to us this way! After everything we have given you! Get on your knees and apologize to Hannah right now, or you are banished from this house. You will have nothing!"

I looked at the IV line still pulsing with my blood. With steady hands, I reached over, grabbed the plastic hub, and ripped the needle out of my vein. A few drops of silver-tinted blood splattered against the pristine white tiles of the floor.

I stood up. My bare feet hit the cold floor, and I drew myself up to my full height. I met Meghan's furious gaze with absolute, chilling indifference.

"Banished?" I let out a dry, humorless laugh. "You have it backwards, Meghan. I am leaving."