Chapter 336
Chapter 336
How did my father die? I have always wanted to know. A part of me still clings to the hope that he might be alive somewhere with Mum, but the need for truth outweighs that fantasy. Now I am finding out by witnessing it as it unfolds.
My father begins by guiding me through his memory, back to when he first meets Mum. He is out searching for a rare leaf and flower needed to complete a medicine he is developing when he sees her. She is searching for the same flower, though for a different purpose.
I watch the scene unfold with quiet awe.
Mum is young—stunning in a way that feels almost disarming. Her face carries colour, life, vibrancy, yet her eyes hold a hollow boredom, as though the world has already stopped surprising her. She looks more beautiful here than I have ever seen her in my life, but there is a strange emptiness beneath it. Before everything that happened to me, before I became a blood wolf, she looked happier. Lighter.
My father gives a low chuckle beside me, drawing my attention. His gaze stays fixed on her in the memory as he speaks.
“The moment I saw her, I knew I was fucked. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and the pull towards her was stronger than my first mate bond.”
He swallows hard, then takes a few hesitant steps back as though he is reliving it rather than remembering it.
“I was terrified,” he admits quietly. “So I ran. Me—the man who swore I would kill anyone I recognised as my mate—I ran with my tail between my legs.”
In the memory, he turns and bolts.
Mum’s expression shifts instantly from surprise to confusion as she watches him flee. She tilts her head slightly, studying his retreating figure rather than chasing him immediately. And then, once he disappears from sight, her lips curve into a soft smile. Her eyes sharpen with something mischievous—calculated, almost excited. A spark of determination settles in them as she turns away, her ponytail snapping sharply behind her.
I can already guess what kind of plan formed in her mind.
“I ran as far as I could,” my father continues, pulling me back into his voice. There is a fondness in it now. “But she found me. I swear, I nearly had a stroke.”
He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head at the memory. I smile despite myself. No one escapes Mum when she decides they are worth chasing. Not even him.
“I kept running,” he goes on, “over and over again. Every time I thought I’d lost her, she appeared again. I tried to convince her to go back, to think about her family, but she didn’t care. She treated it like a game—like the chase was the whole point. And I… I was already gone for her by then. Completely. And your mother—she knew exactly how to make sure I stayed that way.”
He exhales through a laugh, dragging a hand down his face as though the memory still exhausts him.
I looked back at the flashback, which has frozen in place for a moment, as though even the memory itself needs time to breathe. I had not known this about Mum. I knew she was persistent, someone who sees everything through to the end, but I had never imagined her like this—provocative, deliberate, dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with fighting.
My father lets out a quiet, knowing hum, as if he has been waiting for that reaction.
“Oh, she was,” he says simply. “Your mother should have been the queen of succubus. Every time she found me, she made me pay for running away. No marking, no touching from my side, nothing. And still she drove me insane.”
His grin widens slightly, eyes lifting as though he is watching it all play out again in his mind.
“Seven months of running,” he continues. “Seven months of absolute torture. And before I even realised it, I was begging her to let me touch her. That woman is a beast. A cruel one.”
He tilts his head back, smiling at the sky now, amusement threaded tightly with something far softer—fondness, love, the kind that survives humiliation and still refuses to fade.
“I had the greatest sex of my entire life,” he adds without hesitation. “A week of nothing but our bodies speaking. That was it. That sealed everything.”
My breath catches. “She didn’t—”
He cuts in immediately, far too pleased with himself. “Oh, she did.”
The pride in his voice is almost ridiculous.
“Then she left,” he continues. “Just like that. My turn to chase her. If I didn’t find her within a year, she would deliberately mate with someone else and take his mark instead. That was my punishment for running from her.”
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head.
“I searched for her everywhere. I tried everything. But your mother is impossible to track. Unlike you, I don’t have your blood sense. She made that year hell for me. Every time I started to give up, she would leave little traces of her scent—just enough to pull me back in. Just enough to ruin my peace.”
His gaze sharpens slightly, as though the memory still irritates him and comforts him at the same time.
“After a year and two months, she came back to me. And I never let her go again. That was it. That was how we became one.”
“You hid from everyone?” I ask quietly. “Did she know you were—”
“Everything,” he replies before I can finish. “Before I even told her. Your mother is intelligent. She knew something was wrong. She felt guilty too, for making me accept her. But you know her as well as I do—she puts herself first. Always has. Always will.”
Well, I’m her daughter for a reason.
“I prayed you would be a girl,” he admits after a moment. “I thought… maybe then you wouldn’t carry my blood. I didn’t know until I died that there is no escaping the curse. Not really.”
The memory shifts, movement resuming.
He returns from a trip to find another rare plant—only to see her.
Mum is on the ground, drowning in blood. Her stomach is torn open.
The image hits like a physical blow.