Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 378: Kill Her Father

Tears blurred my vision, and sweat ran down my forehead, but I couldn’t let myself fall apart. I had to carry Grandma through the last stretch. I had to keep moving, no matter how badly my chest hurt.

I wanted to tell her she was wrong.

How could I ever forget any of them?

The Morrigans pack had their flaws. They had their coldness, their cruelty, their pride. But there had also been moments of kindness. I couldn’t erase every good thing they had ever done just because they had done terrible things too.

And I could never forget Grandma.

No matter how much the Blackwells had suffered, no matter how much blood had been spilled, I could never forget the care she gave me.

As I walked, memories from my childhood kept rising in my mind. They came one after another, warm and painful all at once. Vivian and Malcom stayed silent as I quietly shared those memories with Grandma. Malcom’s legs were soaked in blood, and Vivian’s face had gone pale with fear over what was coming.

Soon, we reached the Blackwell cemetery again.

The moment Vivian saw the gravestones, fear tightened her face. Then her eyes moved to the offerings around Ronald’s grave. When she realized every item there came from the Morrigans, all the color drained from her face.

I carefully lowered Grandma to the ground.

The second she saw the rusty lighter placed there, she seemed to understand something at once.

"When did you..." she murmured weakly.

I never had a strong memory of Grandpa. Most of what I knew about him came from whispers in the family, half-truths and gossip passed from one mouth to another. Some said he died of illness. Others claimed it had been an accident.

Now I finally understood that his death had never been simple.

"He was a useless drunk," Dominic said coldly. "A man who wasted his life on women and alcohol. It didn’t take much to trap him. The president of Morrigans Group dying from a stroke? Ridiculous."

I froze.

So that was why no one had ever explained Grandpa’s death clearly. It had been too ugly, too shameful, too humiliating to admit.

Dominic continued, his tone almost casual. "Wasn’t he fond of women? I gave him ten times the normal dose and let him die in a woman’s arms. It suited him perfectly."

Then his gaze fell on Grandma.

"But you, old fool, were too clever. Back then, the Blackwell pack hadn’t risen yet, so I couldn’t strike too hard. That’s why you survived all these years."

At last, it all made sense.

The Morrigans had stayed safe for so long because Grandma had been careful enough to keep them standing. But once her health declined, and once Wisteria quietly began sinking her claws into the Morrigans, everything started collapsing.

"Your descendants are fools," Dominic said with a cruel smile. "They loved the daughter of their enemy while treating their own blood like dirt. You all deserve this."

Then he looked at me.

"Elena, you already died once. I won’t hurt you again. You should hate them the way I do. Come here."

He crooked a finger at me.

Grandma looked at me too. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady.

"Elena," she said softly, "go over there. Don’t let us drag you down."

"Grandma..." I whispered.

"Think of Lewis," she said. "He’s still waiting for you. Didn’t you want children with him? Elena, sever your ties with the Morrigans."

Her words stabbed deep.

This life had been given back to me because of Lewis. Hard-earned. Precious. We had already wasted one lifetime in regret. Maybe this was the last chance fate would ever give us.

He was still waiting for me.

But the woman in front of me, frail and pale and shaking, had loved me more than anyone else ever had.

Why was fate so cruel?

Suddenly, someone pulled me back. I turned and saw Whitney.

"Elena, go," she said softly. "Take care of yourself."

She wiped my tears with gentle fingers.

"You’re not a Morrigans anymore."

But even as she pulled me away, she stepped toward the Morrigans instead, choosing to stand with them and share their fate.

Then she lifted her eyes and looked straight at Dominic.

"I’m tired of this life," she said. "The Morrigans owe the Blackwells. I’m here to settle that debt."

She grabbed a dagger.

My heart jumped into my throat.

"No, Whitney!"

But Dominic did not look surprised. It was as if he had expected this all along.

"I don’t want your life, Camilla," he said coolly. "If you stay alive, you can still save your mother."

Whitney froze.

"What did you say?"

"Debt must be repaid," he said. "But your mother is not a Morrigans. I’ll spare both of you. If you choose death, I’ll bury her with you."

The Blackwells really knew how to twist a knife.

Whitney looked at Vivian.

Vivian’s hair, once carefully dyed, had now turned completely gray. The last trace of vanity had vanished from her. Her clothes, which Whitney had once insisted stay neat and proper, were now stained with blood and dirt.

She had nothing left.

She had lost her children. She had lost everything tied to the Morrigans.

Out of all of them, she was the most innocent.

Whitney’s lips trembled as she glared at Dominic.

Then his voice turned colder.

"Elena died once. The Blackwells are owed a life. My son has loved you and protected you for years, but your filthy blood remains the same. So now you will choose between your father and your brother."

My whole body went numb.

"Kill one of them," Dominic said. "Cleanse your blood."

Whitney and I both stood frozen.

Then he added, "The other one will live."

Whitney shook with rage and horror. Malcom’s legs were already ruined, while Greg still had a chance to survive. If one of them had to die, then it was obvious who Dominic meant.

He wanted Whitney to kill her own father.

And Grandma had to watch it happen.

It was cruelty beyond words.

Dominic stared at Grandma with a savage smile. "Old hag, this is what you deserve. Watch the Morrigans fall apart. Feel the same pain I felt when I collected my father’s body."

Grandma broke down at once.

"Dominic, kill me! Kill me!"

"Don’t rush," he said. "After your son and grandson are gone, you’ll be next."

"You demon!" Grandma shouted through tears. "You deserve hell!"

Dominic only grinned wider.

"Do you think I care? I made it this far because of revenge. Death doesn’t scare me. Even if I fall into eternal hell, I won’t regret it."

Beside him, Wisteria played with the knife in her hand, smiling at Whitney like a mad girl enjoying a game.

"What’s wrong?" she asked sweetly. "Can’t do it? Want me to help? If I do, I’ll kill them all. Hahaha!"

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails bit into my palms.

The Blackwells were beyond reason now.

If I tried to interfere, I would only make everything worse.

Inside my head, I kept repeating one name over and over.

Lewis.

Lewis, where are you?

What would you do if you were here?

Malcom looked at Whitney, his face pale from blood loss.

"Camilla," he said quietly, "kill me. I won’t blame you. Spare your brother."

Whitney shook her head wildly, tears pouring down her face.

"No. No, I can’t. You’re my dad. I can’t kill you."

Malcom slowly dragged himself toward her.

"I wasn’t a good father," he said. "I didn’t protect you. And... I hurt Elena. I dragged Greg into this too. You need to live. Protect your mother."

Vivian sobbed as she held his battered body.

"Honey, if you die, I don’t want to live either."

Malcom gently touched her cheek.

"Live," he told her. "For the children. I had an easy life. My only regret is that I wasn’t better to you and to them."

"Malcom..."

"Live well," he said. "Take care of the children. The Morrigans need you now."

Then he pushed Vivian away and crawled toward Whitney.

But Whitney’s long white dress tangled around her legs. She stumbled and fell to the ground, then scrambled backward, her whole body shaking.

Wisteria smiled and lifted the knife.

"Whitney," she said in a sing-song voice, "you know how to kill, don’t you? Like this."

She pressed the blade against Greg’s throat.

Whitney cried out at once. "No! I’ll do it! I’ll do it, just don’t hurt my brother!"

Greg was the last male left in the Morrigans pack.

Whitney would do anything to protect that last hope.

Even if it meant killing her own father.

Her fingers wrapped around the dagger, but her entire body trembled so hard she could barely hold it steady.

Malcom looked at her with tears in his eyes.

"My poor daughter," he whispered. "Live well. I won’t hate you. I love you..."

"Dad... Dad..." Whitney sobbed, her hands shaking harder.

And then, without warning, another blade drove straight through Malcom’s back.

Blood splashed across Whitney’s wedding dress.

Everything around her seemed to go silent.

Her pupils widened.

Then she screamed.

"No!"

Malcom fell forward.

For a second, I saw Vito’s face flash across Whitney’s eyes, like some final memory colliding with the horror in front of her.

Whitney shattered right there.

She coughed up blood, her voice breaking apart as she cried,

"Dad..."