They Tried to Break My Sister. Then I Woke Up Chapter 07
The impact shook the beams of Founders‘ Hall, sending dust raining down from the ceiling.
Then a heavy iron security gate concealed above the hall came crashing down.
It was an old security system the Blackwell family had installed years ago to keep intruders out of
the Alpha memorial area.
The moment it dropped, it cut the inner chamber off from the rest of Founders‘ Hall.
Scar’s expression changed instantly.
He drew his knife, rushed forward, and brought the blade down hard against the iron bars.
“Gavin! Open this damn gate!”
Several Pack Elders and Blackwell family members finally panicked too, rushing over to push and
pull at the iron barrier.
But behind the bars, only Gavin and I remained in the inner chamber.
Gavin slowly straightened.
Every trace of panic, humiliation, and desperation vanished from his face.
He bent down and dragged two black plastic gas cans from beneath the base of the Alpha
memorial.
The moment he twisted off the caps, the sharp reek of gasoline flooded the room.
He splashed it over the heavy curtains first.
Then he poured a trail across the wooden floor all the way to my feet.
“Didn’t you want that three hundred thousand back?”
Gavin suddenly burst out laughing, still holding one of the cans.
He looked through the iron bars at the Blackwell elders who had just been demanding that he hand
over his house.
“And you old bastards. Didn’t you want to take my house to repay the Pack?”
He dumped the rest of the gasoline across the inner chamber.
His laughter grew more unhinged
“I don’t have a damn cent left!”
“No house. No money!”
He hurled the empty can onto the floor.
“No one’s taking anything from me today.”
“You wanted to settle accounts, right?”
Gavin grinned, his eyes completely crazed.
“Then we’ll all burn to ash together.”
The Blackwell men outside the gate recoiled from the overwhelming smell of gasoline.
Malcolm’s legs gave out, and he sank to the floor.
“He’s insane… that bastard’s completely lost his mind!”
I braced one hand against the thick wooden pillar beside me.
The cramps in my abdomen were getting worse by the second. I could barely straighten up, but I kept my eyes fixed on Gavin.
“Gavin.”
“You went through all this trouble. What exactly are you trying to do?”
Gavin didn’t answer.
He reached inside his coat, pulled out a folded document, and tossed it at my feet.
The papers landed on the gasoline–soaked wooden floor.
I glanced down.
It was a high–value accidental death insurance policy.
Insured: Audrey Vaughn.
Beneficiary: Gavin Blackwell
Payout: five million dollars
And the effective date at the bottom…
Exactly one year ago.
The day after Audrey had completed the Claiming Ceremony with Gavin and their marriage had
been officially registered.
Gavin stared at me, the corner of his mouth slowly twisting upward.
“Audrey, don’t tell me you actually thought that three hundred thousand in premarital assets was all
I wanted.”
He gave a low laugh.
“I put up with you for an entire year. I booked psychiatrist appointments for you over and over and
made sure every visit and every diagnosis about your severe depression and emotional outbursts
was documented.”
“I’ve been waiting for today.”
Gavin lifted his chin toward the insurance policy on the floor.
“A woman with severe depression, a woman the entire Blackridge Pack believes can’t even control
her own wolf, loses control after an argument with her husband and sets Founders‘ Hall on fire.”
“And me?”
His smile grew more twisted.
“I’m the poor husband who runs into the fire to save his mate but still can’t get his wife out.”
So that was it.
The depression records.
The claims that Audrey might go feral.
Even the way he’d repeatedly allowed the Blackwell family to push Audrey until she broke down
over the past year.
None of it had ever been accidental.
Gavin reached into his inner pocket and pulled out lighter.
He flicked it.
“Click.”
A small blue flame appeared in the dim inner chamber.
The sharp reek of gasoline hit me at once.
Almost at the same moment, a violent contraction ipped through my lower abdomen.
Every muscle in my body spasmed uncontrollably.
My legs gave out, and I crashed onto the gasoline–soaked wooden floor.
Months of wolfsbane exposure, blood loss, and increasingly frequent contractions had finally
pushed this body to its limit.
My limbs kept going weak, and I couldn’t put any strength into them.
Still carrying the empty gas can, Gavin walked toward me one slow step at a time.
He raised his leather shoe, wet with gasoline, and brought it down hard on my right hand.
“Crack.”
One of my fingers snapped.
Gavin kept grinding his shoe down and bent over me with a savage grin.
“What happened, mad wolf? Why so quiet now?”
“Where’s all that fight you had in front of the Pack Council?”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced me to look up at him.
“Weren’t you supposed to be such a good fighter?”
“What good did bringing the Eastside Rogues in here do you?”
“You still lost to me in the end.”
Gavin spat in my face, then pointed at the insurance policy soaking in gasoline.
“Five million dollars.”
“Once you die in this ‘accident, I’ll collect the payout, leave Blackridge, and start over wherever I
want.”
He grinned
“And you?”
‘Go to hell.”
