Varg continued to stare with his widening eyes, crushing the wolves beneath his blood-crimson gaze.
"Perhaps I should burn all of you, along with your moldy furs!" Varg snarled. "How many of your lineages must I extinguish until my Luna's chills pass?"
And with a single move, my husband—the man who had wiped out an entire wolf lineage—hurled all of that so-called "heritage," of which not even a single needle had been spared for me, into the flames. As my clan's history transformed into a massive funeral pyre to keep me warm, Lira's silver dreams and my father's house pride mingled with the ashes in the light of the sapphire ring on my finger.
Once again, with my mere presence, I had managed to become a plague upon them! And I had done so without even lifting a finger.
"I will turn the heritage of every clan that defies me into a toilet mat! I warned you repeatedly; I told you this day would come," Varg roared.
