Chapter 187 CHAPTER 187

Chapter 187 CHAPTER 187
Emma's POV
I grabbed its fangs.

My hands were weak. My arms were trembling so badly I could barely hold on. The wolf's jaws were inches from my face, its teeth gleaming, dripping with black blood. I could feel the heat of its breath on my skin, the pressure of its weight on my chest, the absolute certainty that this was the end. I was pinned. I was broken. I was about to die.

I couldn't hold on. I knew it. My grip was slipping. My fingers were losing strength with every passing second. The wolf was stronger, faster, angrier. It was everything I had ever feared, and it was winning.

A tear slipped past my eyes. It burned as it traced down my cheek, cutting through the blood and dirt.

I closed them.

This is it, I thought. This is how I die. I failed them. I failed everyone.

The darkness behind my eyes was absolute. The pain was a constant, roaring thing, consuming every thought, every breath. I could feel my grip slipping, feel the wolf's teeth pressing closer to my throat.

And then the memories hit.

They came all at once, a flood of images and voices and feelings that crashed through me like a wave. I saw my mother's face—her smile, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, the way she would hug me so tight I couldn't breathe. I heard her voice, warm and steady.

"You're my fierce girl, Emma. You've always been fierce."

I saw my father. His hands. The calluses on his palms from years of working. The way he taught me to hold a gun, steady and sure. The way he taught me to fight, to stand my ground. The way he would say, "No one's going to take care of you but you, Emma. So you learn to take care of yourself."

I saw Rafael. His face, broken and bleeding, but still standing. Still fighting. Still refusing to give up. The way he looked at me when he said, "You're not going to lose me tonight."

I saw Vivienne. Crying, but still beside me. Still holding my hand. Still refusing to let go.

I saw Mathias. His guilty eyes. His broken voice. The weight he had been carrying for years. The way he had chosen to reach out to Elara, to save Rafael.

And I saw my parents again. Not as they were in death—broken, bloodied, torn apart by the monsters that had killed them. But as they were in life. Strong. Proud. Standing in the doorway of our home, watching me with love in their eyes.

I heard them speak.

"You didn't come this far to quit, Emma." My mother's voice, soft but firm. "You didn't come this far to give up."

"You're a Steele," my father said. "We don't raise quitters. We raise fighters."

"We raised you."

"And we are so proud of you."

The words hit me like a lightning bolt.

They were counting on me.

They wanted me to live. To fight. To conquer.

They were watching me. They were waiting for me to rise.

I opened my eyes. The wolf was still there, its jaws inches from my face. The pain was still there, the blood, the brokenness. But something had changed inside me. Something had steeled itself. Something had caught fire.

I screamed.

"NO!"

The sound tore out of me, raw and fierce and absolute. It was not a scream of pain. It was a scream of defiance. It was the sound of someone who had decided that she would not, could not, would never give up.

I grabbed its fangs with both hands and squeezed. I drove my thumbs into the gaps between them, felt the bone strain, felt the teeth shift under my grip. The wolf snarled, its jaws trying to close, but I held them open. My arms were burning, my muscles screaming, but I didn't let go.

I squeezed harder.

I felt the bone give way. A crack. Then another. The wolf howled in pain, a high, piercing sound that shook the stone walls around us. Its head thrashed, trying to break free, but I held on. I felt its fangs shatter under my grip, felt the fragments cut into my palms, felt the blood pour down my hands.

I broke its fangs.

The wolf screamed—a raw, animal cry that seemed to tear through the very air. It reared back, tearing away from me, blood pouring from its broken jaw. I scrambled to my feet, my chest heaving, my hands bleeding, my body screaming with pain.

I was still standing. I was still fighting.

The wolf's eyes blazed with fury. It came at me again, and I met it head-on.

I grabbed its throat. My hands closed around its neck, fingers sinking into the thick fur, squeezing. The wolf thrashed, its claws tearing into my arms, my chest, my face. I felt the skin split, the blood pour down my cheeks. It hit me, threw me against the wall, the stone cracking against my back. I felt my ribs break, felt the sharp pain of bone snapping.

I didn't let go.

I held on, squeezing, suffocating, demanding it recognize me. The wolf fought, its body twisting, trying to break free. It slammed me into the wall again. The pain exploded through me, white-hot and absolute. I tasted blood in my mouth, thick and metallic.

I squeezed harder.

"Recognize me," I growled. My voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything I had lost, everything I was fighting for. "Recognize me as your master."

The wolf snarled, its claws raking across my face. I felt the skin split, the blood pour down my cheek. But I held on.

"I said recognize me!"

The wolf's struggles grew weaker. Its thrashing slowed. It was losing strength, losing the fight. I pressed harder, my fingers digging deeper into its throat. I could feel its pulse beneath my hands, slowing, faltering.

"Submit," I said. "Submit to me."

The wolf's eyes flickered. The red in them dimmed, just slightly. Something moved in its gaze—something like recognition.

I didn't stop. I squeezed until its breathing grew shallow, until its body began to sag. I squeezed until I felt its will break, felt the last of its resistance crumble.

And then, after a long, drawn-out struggle, the wolf went still.

Its eyes closed. Its body slumped. It yielded.

I stood over it, panting, my body broken, my hands bloody. The wolf lay at my feet, beaten, subdued. Its chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. It was alive. It was defeated.

I dropped to my knees beside it. My hands were shaking. My vision was blurry. But I reached out and placed my hand on its head.

"I am your master," I said. My voice was hoarse, but steady. "You belong to me now. Do you understand?"

The wolf didn't move. But I felt it—a shift, a connection, a bond forming between us. Something ancient and deep and absolute.

I had conquered it.

I had survived.