TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 82: MARCELLA’S CONFESSION
VALORIA WILDEROSE
I wake again in the middle of the night, stirred from sleep by an unknown force, staring up at the ceiling.
The night is cold, still, silent — and for the first time Azrael is beside me, sleeping. His soft snoring echoes into the empty quiet around us.
Something unknown beckons to me, making the space suddenly uncomfortable, making me crave fresh air far from the four walls of this room.
In a trance, I slide out of the sheets, silent enough not to stir Azrael, slip into my slippers, and leave through the door.
The entire building remains silent even after everything that’s happened with Ronan.
It’s in a dead-like state, yet I get the subtle feeling something is amiss — the once peaceful aura replaced by chaos.
It’s just a feeling.
I stroll down to the ground floor and walk through the front doors into the gardens, taking a familiar path by memory to the place I tried to escape through weeks ago.
Back when I believed my life was over... when I finally summoned the courage to leave and do something with my life. Before the choice was stolen from me.
Something has pulled me here, forcing me to relive my final moments, how naïve I’d been back then.
And now, with so much happening in the span of three weeks, my eyes have opened. My opinions have changed.
Things I thought I hated, views I used to frown upon... I find myself questioning all of it. Questioning everything I’ve ever been told.
I remain deep in thought, staring up at the stars, until I hear footsteps drawing closer — leaves crunching beneath feet.
I turn to the side toward the approaching figure, exactly like that night. And just like before, a cloaked figure stands in front of me, face and form shrouded from sight.
A small, knowing smile graces my lips.
Unlike that night, I’m void of fear entirely. Something about facing death’s door more than a couple times numbs the instinct to run.
And maybe I owe a bit of that fearlessness to the man sleeping in my bed. It’s strange how the thought of him fuels an unexpected confidence inside me.
"I h-had a f-feeling that you’d sh-show up at some point," I say to the shrouded figure.
My killer.
They raise their hand slowly, pulling the cloak off their face — revealing deep dark auburn hair, so luscious and distinct it could only belong to Marcella.
My heart doesn’t ache the way I expected, confirming the truth. Maybe it’s because so much has happened in the last few days that acceptance came easier than grief.
She looks enraged, furious, her eyes stained with tears. A blade slips from beneath her cloak, glinting in the night’s faint light.
"You... you ruined everything. Ronan is dead because of you, and now Father..." Her voice breaks, refusing to continue as more bitter tears spill.
I raise a brow.
"W-What hap-pened to Father?"
Did Azrael do something? Is that where he went off to earlier without speaking?
Her hateful eyes lock onto me with sharpened vengeance.
"Like you would care!" she laughs bitterly, appalled by my curiosity.
Then she doubles down.
"You’re a viper. A parasite. You should have never been born. You should have never existed!" She steps closer, her words venomous, aimed to stab and shame and hurt me more than I’ve ever been hurt. "You’re filth that doesn’t deserve life. You should’ve been grateful for everything we did for you, yet you stabbed us in the back. You ruined our family. You killed Ronan — your own mate — because you were jealous no one wanted to love you. And you tried to take Father down too, because you’re an insatiable void of pain and destruction that consumes everything in its path."
She pauses to breathe, watching me, waiting for the familiar collapse — the shame, the agony, the tears. Waiting for me to suffer. Cry. Crumble.
It hurts, yes, but this time the pain is different.
This time, I’m hurting because it took so long to see her for what she truly is. Because it took becoming numb inside to finally realize I wasted years of my life on my family.
My eyes are finally open — and just as Azrael said, I was a fool.
I inhale deeply, exhale slowly, gathering every painful word she’s ever spat at me... everything I let define me... and I breathe it out, letting it all go.
"No, Marcella." The words fall easily, without breaking, without fear.
I’ve seen too much to tremble before the sad, broken little girl standing in front of me.
"You people did nothing for me — nothing but torment and hate me all my life, blaming me for things that were never my fault."
Her eyes widen at my lack of stutter before narrowing into a glare. She steps forward again, shoulders squaring to appear intimidating.
"Shut up."
I shake my head.
"Maybe hours ago I would have. But not anymore. I’m tired of holding onto hope that you’d finally leave me alone. I’m tired of being docile and giving you power over me."
"You ruined our family! You destroyed everything!" she screams hysterically, swinging her dagger, demanding I cower... demanding I fear her.
"Is that what you told yourself? The excuse you gave for why I needed to die?"
She clenches her teeth. "You should have died long before now. Maybe our family would still be together!"
She lunges at me with the blade.
We topple over, rolling across the ground like two bickering children locked in a deadly struggle for power, until she ends up on top of me — overpowering me.
Her blade aims straight for my chest, and I struggle to keep it from making contact with every ounce of strength I have left.
"Why do you hate me?" I ask her for the first time, voice strained through the struggle and the gasping for air.
I look her in the eye, searching for the answer.
She trembles above me, shaking with emotions that overwhelm her to the point that hateful tears spill from her eyes.
A single drop falls onto my cheek. And for the first time, I truly see her — my little sister, the little girl yearning and desperate for something.
Just as I have been all my life.
