Brute 256

Chapter 256 

ATASHA’S POV 

“I should have strangled you,” Collin hissed, his voice rough with hatred. “I should have killed you when I found you.” 

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I only smiled as I continued staring at him. The firelight gave his face a sickly warmth, but it could not hide the way his skin had lost color, or how his fingers kept flexing like he was trying to remind himself he still had strength. 

He did not. 

He had poison left in him, and we both knew it. 

His chest tightened again, and he coughed into his fist, the sound ugly and wet. When he pulled his hand away, there was blood at the corner of his mouth. He wiped it hard, like he could erase weakness with force. 

I watched him do it and thought about what he had said moments ago. 

A tribe. 

A conquered territory. 

Orders from the King. 

The picture he painted did not match the way he wanted to be seen. It was not a heroic tale. It was a confession wrapped in pride. 

According to him, he found me in a tribe of werewolves that he defeated years ago, a tribe accused of working with Demon Fangs. He said the King instructed Nightfall to wipe them out. 

And in the aftermath, among corpses and burned tents and torn banners, someone found a child. 

Me. 

Who would have thought a baby could be dragged into a war like that and still survive long enough to be picked up by the very man who ordered the slaughter. 

Collin stared at me like he wished he could rewind time and fix his mistake with his bare hands. 

“If you do not believe me,” he said, voice tightening. “Get the box under my bed.” 

I raised an eyebrow but did not move. 

“There are maps in there,” he continued, then coughed again, his breath catching halfway through. He had to stop and drag air in slowly, his shoulders lifting as if breathing had become something he needed to earn. “Find an old map. You will see the locations of that tribe.” 

He swallowed, eyes narrowing at me as if daring me to challenge him. “It will be marked. The routes, the borders, the camp points. Everything.” 

I glanced toward the bed behind him, then back to his face. 

“You can look,” he added, voice roughening. “But it won’t change anything. Times have passed. Those tribes were erased. There will be no traces now.” 

He coughed again and leaned back, jaw clenched as if he hated that his own body kept cutting him off in front of me. 

I stayed seated. 

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Sat, Jan 24 D 

Chapter 256 

“Even if the map is real,” I said. “It only proves you killed a tribe and stole a child from the aftermath. 

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Collin’s eyes flashed, but his lungs betrayed him again. He turned his head and spat blood into the hearth ash by the side, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like it was nothing. 

I let the silence sit for a moment, long enough for his breathing to settle into something less frantic. 

Then I spoke again. 

“Still,” I said calmly, “I wonder why you picked me up.” 

My smile did not reach my eyes. “The Collin I knew isn’t that foolish.” 

His gaze sharpened like he had been waiting for that question. 

“At that time,” he said, forcing the words out steadily, “Genevieve had just lost our eldest child.” 

My expression shifted. 

Collin watched it and looked satisfied, even as his chest rose and fell too hard for someone trying to sit like an Alpha. “She was the same age you were,” he continued, voice quieter. “She was already dead when Genevieve gave birth.” 

He paused, cough threatening again, and he swallowed it down. The effort made his throat bob harshly. 

“We kept it a secret,” he said. “To avoid problems with neighboring packs. To avoid gossip. To avoid letting anyone think our Luna was weak.” 

His lips pulled back slightly. “We also did not tell Genevieve right away. Not then. Her health was not stable. Her mind was not stable. We did not want to worsen her state.” 

My brows drew together. 

“So you…” I started. 

Collin’s eyes stayed locked on mine. “You were a replacement.” 

A short sound escaped me, something between a snort and a laugh. 

“I see,” I said, tone light enough to be insulting. 

Collin did not flinch. He looked tired and bitter and certain. 

“Genevieve’s body was fragile after the birth,” he continued. “She had not recovered. She had not accepted the loss because we did not allow her to face it. We told her what we needed her to believe.” 

He coughed again, harsher this time, and had to brace a hand against the arm of his chair. For a second he looked like he might fold in on himself, but pride held him upright. 

“When I found you,” he said through the lingering strain. “It solved a problem.” 

My mouth tightened. 

“So you told her I was your child,” I said. 

Collin nodded once. “We did.” 

I stared at him. “And you thought she would never notice?” I look different! I had no similar features to the Black Family! What was he thinking!? 

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18:58 Sat, Jan 24 DOD. 

Chapter 256 

His lips curled, humorless. “Of course she noticed” 

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He let out a breath that sounded like it scraped his lungs. “But it took years. And by then, it did not matter what she felt. We could not ruin our reputation. We could not admit weakness. We could not admit anything that would make other packs circle us like vultures.” 

The pieces slid into place in my head, 

My voice lowered. “So when I didn’t awaken…” 

Collin did not look away. “Yes” 

The answer was too quick, too honest, like he was tired of pretending he ever cared how it sounded. 

“That was the only reason Genevieve agreed to keep you,” he said. “We thought you were the daughter of that tribe’s Alpha. We thought your wolf would awaken. We thought you might carry something valuable and strong.” 

I nodded slowly, letting him speak, letting him hang himself with the truth. 

“But when you didn’t,” I said. “That was your excuse to kick me out of the picture.” 

Collin’s jaw tightened, “Yes” 

He coughed again, and this time he had to pause for longer, breathing through it while his fingers gripped the chair like it was an anchor. When he finally spoke again, his voice had gone hoarse. 

“Genevieve wanted your wolf,” he said. “That was all. When it did not come, you became a stain she had to tolerate, not a daughter she wanted.” 

I leaned back in my chair, the movement slow, controlled, like none of this surprised me even though something in my chest still wanted to crack at the edges. 

Now her treatment made sense in a way that left no room for excuses or softer interpretations. It had never been clumsy affection or a failed attempt at motherhood. It had never been confusion about what to do with a child that did not fit into her life. 

It was calculation from the very beginning. 

Every look weighed, every gesture measured, every scrap of attention given only when it served a purpose. When hope still existed, I was observed. When disappointment set in, I was tolerated. When it became clear that I would not become what they wanted, resentment settled in and stayed. 

I was never a daughter to her. I was an investment that failed to yield returns, a weapon that never awakened, a reminder of a lie she was forced to live with and could not discard without consequences. 

I looked at Collin and let my smile return. 

“So you kept me,” I said. “Not because you found a child and had a conscience. Not because you wanted to save anyone.” 

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