“Stand up, Casey,” he said softly, his small hands wiping away her fake tears. Then, his eyes met mine, burning with hatred. “You killed my mother with your wicked heart,” he spat, his voice filled with disgust. “And now you’re trying to hurt Casey, too!”
Marc turned back to Casey, his face softening. “Don’t cry, Casey. Don’t worry. Let Rhea go—I don’t want her in my life. I don’t need her.” He lifted his chin, his next words cutting deeper than any wound. “I want you to stay. You should be my mother. You should marry my father.”
He turned back to me, his eyes filled with nothing but scorn. “You’re a wicked woman with a bad heart. That’s why my father could never love you.” A slow, cruel smile tugged at his lips. “I’m happy you’re leaving.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and took one last look at the boy I had raised, the boy I had loved like my own.
“After eight years, if this is what you think of me… then there really is no point in me staying,” I said with a sigh.
Without another word, I turned and walked away.
Just as I was dragging my suitcase towards the gate, Marc pulled the crossbow and shot at my head.
Rhea’s POV
“Don’t think that if you play the victim, I will let you stay and be my stepmother!” Marc’s voice cracked with adolescent rage. “If you have the strength to leave, then go and never crawl back!”
The silver-tipped arrow, heavy with the boy's hate, hissed through the air. I tried to twist away, but the bolt grazed my shoulder, tearing through my skin and embedding itself in the muscle. A pained scream ripped from my throat as I collapsed onto the cold stone.
Malachi was at my side in a heartbeat. He gathered me into his arms, his face pale as I gritted my teeth against the searing fire in my shoulder.
“I am so sorry, Rhea,” he choked out, his voice trembling.
Suddenly, a sharp cry pierced the air. Casey let out a wail, and Marc screamed right after her.
“Father! Come quickly! Lady Casey twisted her ankle trying to help that witch!” Marc cried out, pointing at the grass.
Malachi’s eyes darted between my bleeding wound and Casey’s pitiful sobbing. He looked torn for a single second, then he let out a heavy sigh and released his hold on me.
“It is a clean wound, Rhea. Go to the pack’s healers; I will meet you there. I must carry Casey inside—she cannot walk,” he stated, his voice regaining its Alpha coldness.