Warning: Contains Gore (18+)
Year: 1900,
England.
"I hereby banish you, Veronica Esme Gordon, from the Thornstone Pack and strip you of your position as Luna. You are to leave immediately and never return."
Veronica blinked away the memory as she ran her hands through the intricate design on her wedding dress, she had chosen a new path now. A path that was going to be worth it with Andrew, she assured herself before closing her suitcase and stepping outside their hotel room.
"Excuse me, have you seen the man I came with?" Veronica asked an attendant passing by.
"I believe I saw him heading to Room 606," the woman replied.
"Oh, thank you," Veronica said gratefully before rushing to the elevator.
An hour earlier, her fiancé, Andrew, had mentioned he was stepping out to see a friend. Now, growing impatient, she longed to see him, particularly since his wedding suit had finally arrived in the mail.
The wedding was tomorrow—a union many considered reckless for various reasons that seemed insignificant to Veronica. They had known each other for barely a year, she was a werewolf, and he was a mere human. There would be no family present, and she had no friends to form a bridal party. Yet, she was utterly in love with Andrew and couldn't wait to marry him, to bind their fates together forever.
"Let's get married at Artemis' hotel. I heard that place brings luck to couples," he had suggested just a week ago. She had embraced him with a smile, thrilled by his enthusiasm. It would be just the two of them—no one else.
As the elevator doors opened on the third floor, she stepped out, her heart a mix of anxiety and hope. The hotel room was easy to find, and as she approached, she noticed the door was ajar.
After a brief moment of hesitation, she slipped inside, only to find the room empty. Just as she contemplated leaving, a low moan emanated from the bathroom, quickly followed by Andrew's unmistakable voice.
Didn't he say he wanted to see a friend? Who was with him in the bathroom?
Heart racing, Veronica tiptoed towards the bathroom door. What she saw would haunt her forever: Andrew entwined with another woman, locked in a passionate embrace.
Devastated, she fled the scene before they could notice her presence, tears streaming down her face as she clutched the crucifix Andrew had given her around her neck. Her heart clenched as she fought to hold back her sobs. Andrew had brought her here to betray her?
Veronica hastily packed her bags. She had given up everything for him—her pack, her life—and now this? How could she live with herself knowing she had been warned? Humans were all the same, yet she had chosen to be naive. But as she reached the door, fury ignited within her. Why should she leave in defeat and let him have the last laugh after humiliating her like this?
"Andrew!" she screamed, bursting back into the room, rage transforming her into a whirlwind of fury. Both Andrew and his companion turned to her, startled. Before Andrew could pull away from the other woman, she lunged at him, fueled by betrayal, smacking him repeatedly. With her heels, she struck the woman's bare back, her anger unrestrained.
"Nica! Calm down!" Andrew shouted, desperation tinging his voice, but Veronica offered no solace as she continued her attack.
In a desperate attempt to break her assault, Andrew's mistress flung her arms outward, throwing Veronica off balance. She stumbled and crashed into the bathtub, a sharp pain exploding in her skull as blood streamed from a deep gash.
"A-Andrew?" she called weakly, the world fading to a blur.
Deep within, she longed for her wolf, but she seemed to be unresponsive. Her heart raced rapidly, and tears pricked at her eyes as she fought to hold back the pain, refusing to believe that her worst fears were coming true. Her wolf had warned her too but she went ahead with her heart's fetish desires.
"Go get the stuff from the wardrobe, Lucinda," Andrew ordered, his tone cold and detached, as though she weren't lying there, bleeding.
"W-what's happening?" she gasped, dread filling her as she realized he had no intention of calling for help.
As her vision blurred and her consciousness began slipping away, the truth hit her with terrifying clarity: Andrew, devoid of concern, opened a briefcase he had brought from the closet, revealing a disturbing collection of blades, each more sinister than the last.
"A-Andrew?" she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "What's going on?"
He squatted down to face her, his fingers brushing the crucifix on her neck before slowly opening it to reveal a dark, glossy stone nestled within the locket. "Obsidian... your favorite gemstone," he smirked.
Veronica's breath hitched as a flash of memory pierced through the fog of her mind.
"You don't like obsidian?" Andrew had asked months ago.
"My wolf doesn't, it'll harm her," she had blurted out, naive and trusting, unaware that she had just handed him the perfect weapon to destroy her.
"How could you do this?" She whispered weakly.
"Sorry, darling. Rest in peace," he murmured, plunging a pristine knife deep into her abdomen. Veronica gasped, her body jolting in shock. He pulled her closer, whispering insidiously in her ear, "I suppose this is how it ends."
Before she could process what was happening, he plunged the knife into her again, faster this time, exploring her body with the blade, crimson splatters marking his skin.
"Be careful—you'll harm her heart," Lucinda interjected, her voice laced with morbid practicality.
Andrew paused momentarily to lay Veronica's limp form on the bathroom floor. He ripped away her clothing, exposing her exquisite body now marred by deep gashes and flowing blood. Then, he removed her black heels.
"Stupid woman, always dressing like a slut," he cursed, discarding the shoes.
Working alongside Lucinda, Andrew meticulously dissected Veronica's body. With almost surgical precision, he extracted her heart and placed it carefully into a white plastic bag that Lucinda had provided. The grim dissection continued: her lungs, kidneys, eyes, uterus—each organ removed and neatly stored away in plastic bags.
Once they had dismantled her body, Andrew resorted to horrifying methods of disposal. Using a knife, he hacked her corpse into small pieces, flushing them down the toilet as if she were nothing more than waste. Her bones were stashed away, destined for disposal later that night.
With the scene cluttered with evidence, Andrew began erasing the last traces of his fiancée, while Lucinda refrigerated Veronica's organs, methodically preparing the area for cleanup.
As she worked, Lucinda couldn't shake the thought of the profit they stood to gain. Veronica, so naïve to fall for Andrew's charm after barely eight months, had become the perfect prey.
Turning on the stereo, Lucinda danced to Mary Hopkin's "Those Were The Days," savoring a margarita as she reveled in the thrill of her newfound freedom.
Just then, Andrew returned, finding her at the center of the room, moving in rhythm. She greeted him with delight, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"What's next?" she asked, her voice dripping with excitement.
"I'll cancel the wedding plans before we take off," he replied.
"Where did you hide her?"
"I dropped her in a nearby zoo."
"Why—"
"She's an animal," he smirked, leaning in for a passionate kiss. "Animals don't deserve anything good."
With a smile, Lucinda kissed him back, their laughter mingling with the music as they reveled in depravity. Suddenly, something clattered to the floor.
However, Andrew and Lucinda ignored the noise, engrossed in each other's taste as he led her back to the bed, hovering over her as she undid her robe. That's when her eyes caught sight of a female figure seated at the vanity.
Lucinda screamed, causing Andrew to shudder as he pulled her away from him. "What is it?" he snapped. Lucinda said nothing; instead, the sounds of bones cracking filled the room while she lay on the bed, each crack eliciting a terrified scream as worry seeped into Andrew's mind.
"Lucinda! What's happening?" he demanded.
"She's doing this!" Lucinda yelled, pointing toward the vanity, only for her arm to break loosely and roll to the ground.
"Bloody hell!" Andrew cursed as he turned to the vanity table, spotting a woman covered in blood, seated in a dress.
Andrew rose to call for help, but an unexplainable force held his feet to the ground.
Lucinda's cries intensified as the woman rose from the chair, her black heels clicking ominously on the wooden floor as she approached with a wide smile.
"Ve...ro...nica?" Lucinda stuttered through her pain, dizziness creeping in. This had to be a nightmare; maybe Veronica's spirit was haunting her, demanding she wake up.
"Lovely dream, isn't it?" Veronica grinned, her tone sharply cold and unsettlingly calm.
"How is this possible?" Andrew stammered, his heart pounding against his chest as he struggled to process the situation. Sweat dripped down his forehead as fear enveloped him.
Suddenly, Lucinda's body contorted, her limbs twisting into unnatural positions, bones cracking sickeningly with each movement. She was forced into a grotesque reverse tabletop position, her arms pressing into the bed while her back arched.
She screamed as pain surged through her, her mind desperately insisting. 'This isn't real... I just need to wake up.'
Veronica's lips curled into a smirk. "Heard you were expecting a child. I just wanted to extend my greetings to my fiancé's offspring."
As her words settled like a curse, a thin line of red appeared along Lucinda's abdomen. She cried out, her voice raw with agony.
Andrew's face twisted in horror. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HER? STOP! STOP IT THIS INSTANT!" he bellowed, struggling to free himself from the ground, blood draining from his face as he watched the torment unfold.
In one final, nightmarish moment, Lucinda's torn abdomen revealed a barely formed embryo, glistening under the dim light. Her screams faded into numbness, her mind slipping into darkness. She shut her eyes, clinging to the belief that soon, she'd wake from this horrific nightmare.
Veronica turned to Andrew, who trembled in fear.
"Please... please..." he stammered, but before he could continue, a shard of glass pierced his mouth, rendering him silent.
"Horrible start for your last words, Andrew, isn't it?" she frowned, moving behind him.
Her crimson-painted nails pressed into his back, tracing down his spine as his flesh tore open. Andrew's face contorted as his veins bulged on his neck; he squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to scream.
The pain in his throat intensified as Veronica slid her hands around his waist, moving to his chest. Muffled groans escaped him, pleading for her to stop. In one swift motion, Veronica's hands plunged into his chest, ripping out his heart and tossing it aside as his body went pale. He fell, lifeless, blood pooling around him.
Veronica washed her hands and walked away from the room, shutting the door behind her as if nothing had happened. The sharp staccato of her heels echoed in the empty hallway, devoid of hotel attendants or the manager of this organ trafficking den disguised as a hotel.
A deep, male baritone voice resonated through the building—a whisper barely heard.
"A place where the deceived will deceive their deceiver. An abode for an endless cycle of revenge, fueled by the bleeding heart of an injured maid — Delilah's Inn."