Compassion vs. Vengeance
Before Isla could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. Draven emerged from the shadows, his wolf form shifting as he stepped into the light. His black fur was slick with blood, and his amber eyes burned with rage.
“You’re hesitating again,” he growled, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “We’re not doing this again, Isla. She dies.”
Isla turned to him, her heart pounding in her chest. “Draven, she’s pregnant,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
Draven’s gaze hardened, his claws flexing at his sides. “I don’t care. She’s too dangerous to let live.”
His claws hovered inches from Seraphine’s throat, his amber eyes blazing with unrestrained fury.
“Draven, stop!” Isla’s voice cut through the chaos, firm yet trembling with urgency. She stepped between him and her sister, her silver hair catching the faint moonlight like a halo. Her hands pressed against his chest, a gentle barrier against his unyielding wrath. “We can’t kill her. Not like this.”
Draven’s chest heaved with the effort of holding himself back, his wolf barely restrained. “She’s lied, manipulated, and betrayed us,” he growled, his voice deep and guttural. “This isn’t just justice, Isla—it’s survival.”
“She’s pregnant,” Isla said softly, glancing over her shoulder at Seraphine, who lay crumpled on the ground, clutching her abdomen. Despite her ragged state, there was a defiant glint in Seraphine’s eyes, as if she dared them to follow through.
“And you believe her?” Draven snarled, his jaw tightening. “You’ve seen what she’s capable of. This could be another one of her games.”
Isla’s gaze didn’t waver. “If she’s lying, we’ll know soon enough. But if she’s not… Draven, we can’t kill an innocent life. No matter who the mother is.”
Draven’s frustration boiled over, his hands flexing at his sides. “This isn’t just about her, Isla! How many times will you let her twist your compassion into a weapon? How many more lives will she destroy because we showed her mercy?”
“She’s my sister,” Isla whispered, her voice raw. “And this child—this child didn’t choose her as a mother. We lock her away, Draven. No mercy, no freedom. But we don’t kill her child.”
Draven’s piercing gaze bore into hers, searching for something to anchor him. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his claws retracting as he took a step back. His voice was low, dangerous, barely more than a growl. “One more chance, Isla. For you, not for her.”
Isla nodded, relief flooding her features, but her heart remained heavy. She turned to Seraphine, her expression hardening. “You’ll be taken back to Crimson Fang and locked away. Your child will be born in captivity. You’ll have no influence, no voice, no chance to manipulate anyone again.”
Seraphine smirked weakly, her crescent mark dim but still visible. “Such a benevolent Luna,” she murmured, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Always playing the savior.”
“Don’t mistake compassion for weakness,” Isla snapped, her tone cold. “You’ll get no more chances, Seraphine. This is it.”
Draven motioned for the warriors to take Seraphine, his jaw tight as his eyes never left her. “If she so much as breathes out of turn, end it. I won’t risk her life at the expense of this pack again.”
He pulled Isla close, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you’re right about this, Isla. Because if you’re not… I won’t stop next time.”
Isla rested her head against his chest, her heart pounding with fear and resolve. “I know,” she whispered back, staring at the retreating silhouette of her sister. “But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”
