The hordes of hunters seemed to stop at her voice, but they continued to brandish their weapons in our faces. I stared down the barrels of multiple guns, before turning back to gaze at my mother derisively.

"Distract her," Blaise whispered from the corner of his mouth, his lips barely moving. I didn’t know what his plan was, but if he wanted me to attract my mother’s attention, I had just the idea.

"Mother, stop this madness at once!" I demanded angrily, whipping out the pistol to point it at her. "Stop it now, or I’ll shoot!"

My mother let out a condescending laugh. "Dearest, I would be more threatened if your arms weren’t trembling like a leaf in the wind." She stretched out her hands, wordlessly taunting me to pull the trigger.

I snarled and shot. My mother didn’t even flinch, she calmly cocked her head to the side, dodging my bullet with relative ease. I cursed; that was another bullet wasted.

"I see you haven’t fixed your issue regarding the recoil," my mother noted with a small disappointed shake of her head. "If you want to kill me, you and your pets would need to do a lot better than that."

"Madame Veronica!" The hunters cried out, and it was as though a spell had broken with my gunshot, for they quickly formed ranks around her, presumably to protect her― the same way guard bees would die for their hive, to ensure their queen lived. Now, I couldn’t even get a clear look at her, let alone aim and shoot.

We would have to cut through all of them to get to her. My mother had no qualms about sacrificing all their lives if it meant she got to have Damon’s head on a silver platter.

Speaking of Damon, I could now get a clearer look at him. He was now half bowed over from exhaustion, his sweaty hair falling into his eyes, even as it was half-encased in ice. His ice armor was looking worse for wear; it was punctured with so many silver bullets one could have mistaken it for a silver vest instead. I noted with increasing horror that parts of his armor had chipped away, revealing streams of blood on his skin.

Even if Damon was incredibly skilled, it couldn’t have been easy maintaining such a suit of armor through such bombardment. But then he turned and caught sight of my gaze.

I could feel his determination coursing through the bond, and he straightened imperceptibly.

It was as though my very presence had given him a second wind, a stronger will to live.

"Stop this teenage rebellion at once, Harper," my mother continued, her voice echoing through the hall loud and clear. "You’ve been hoodwinked by these men to betray your only blood family!"

"You’re insane!" I yelled out, the frustration and grievances from the past week bubbling to the surface.

This woman removed my wolf without my consent when I was nothing more than a mere child needing her protection. Then she went on to poison Blaise, and now she was out to murder Damon.

"Your hatred of werewolves exceeds your love for me. You’re a monster, Mom! How could you remove my wolf from me? I was only a child! You made my life a living hell in Stormclaw!"

"Me? Make your life a living hell? Oh, Harper, you’re placing blame on the wrong people." I could just imagine my mother shaking her head indolently, her lips curling into a smirk as she began to poke holes in my argument. "I was presumed dead all those years, so how could I be the one torturing you back in Stormclaw? That honor lies solely at your father’s feet."

"The entire pack thought I was wolfless and worthless!" I burst out, enraged. "If I had a wolf, I would―"

"Let’s not kid ourselves. Even if you had the strongest wolf in you, the useless sack of shit that used to be my mate would still treat you as a stain on his shoe," my mother hissed venomously, the nonchalance from earlier noticeably missing from the moment my father was brought up. "Nothing you could have done would be good enough for him, not when he was led around the nose by that other bitch who went around seducing married men―"

"My life would be easier anyway! It could hardly be worse!" There were some discontented grumblings from the hunters surrounding my mother; in their eyes, I was nothing more than an ungrateful daughter who couldn’t count her blessings.

I bet they would have willingly given up an arm and leg to be the daughter of a renowned hunter. Instead, that honor went to me, and I got my wolf stolen thanks to her.

"Why are you so hung up over this? Harper, my dear, it’s not as though you’re the poor Alpha of Thunderstrike― that man had a wolf, and so he was understandably devastated when he lost it," my mother said, actually sounding confused while reminding me that she had spies everywhere.

"How could you lose what you never had? You should be thanking me for removing your wolf when you were too young to know any better! Now you can live the life of an ordinary human!"

"I don’t want to be an ordinary human!" I yelled out. "I’m a werewolf! I belong with my pack and my mates!"

My mother gave a cold, cruel laugh. I could imagine the twisted expression on her face, as she voiced her thoughts out loud.

"What’s done is done, and I would do it again in a heartbeat if I had another chance to turn back time. You’ll understand me when you’re older."

To think she would rationalize her decision to poison me as something done for my own good... I was so upset, that I would have lunged for her throat if not for the hordes of bodies in my way. But my mother wasn’t done.

"But since you’ve chosen your way, there’s no need for me to say anything else. Hunters, take care of them!"