Prologue

As she paced the dungeon floor, a malicious glint in her eye, she used her evil mind to come up with a plan to murder all those who had hurt her. First, her father hated her because he thought she had killed her mother.

At first her father concluded that, as her mother gave birth to her littermates, Nightpelt would be fine. Then she slid out. That's where everything went wrong. Her mother had started convulsing and her eyes had rolled back, showing only the whites of her eyes. He had blamed her for Nightpelt's death, finding no other reason as to why she had died. He had called her cursed. Damned. Forever to be condemned.

"Words," she whispered as she circled the giant cage, "words are a powerful force."

Then her sister had stolen her true love. Stolen. She had had him in her grasp, but then her sister decided that she loved him, and convinced him to stay with her as her mate.

The last straw had been when her supposed best friend had betrayed her for true love, her hated brother. He had taunted her when she had needed kindness and stayed loyal to her father even when it came to blows. Her tail reached up, on its own accord and traced the giant scar that wound from the top of her split left ear, through her face, and onto her chest. He had marked her. Then she had spent months planning to kill them all. Her traitorous "best friend" had betrayed her again, saying she was a psychopath, and intended to kill her family. The Striker Force had caught up to her; taking her down under the earth into the jail she was in now.

Hopefully she will stay there, locked in her prison cell. Never destined to unleash all her fury and cause havoc among the many Clans. Hope. A fluttery, slippery, light thing. Never stays long. Though it's all we can do.

"My time will come," she whispered, "it will come."