the women are the strong ones

Do you know what it's like to watch your dreams die? To pour everything you have into something and watch it crash and burn? Megara did. She struggled through her abuse. She rose to become an alpha. She began a revolution - but one, that ultimately failed. The royal packs of Beacon Hills ceased to be what they were. Both a blessing and a curse. The Tanners would spread a message of peace to their offspring, the Olsen's would never be the pack they had once been, the fate of the Chevaliers rested on a girl who had never liked royals too much and the Taos? No one really knows what became of them. At least, Meg did not. There was no purpose for her in Beacon Hills. She couldn't even anchor herself to the pack she had built. It wasn't enough.

Megara left in search of a new dream, a new purpose, a new life. She would travel the world, an empty shell. For all her talk of tearing down the royals, she had been unable to separate the royal from the human in her. Born a royal, die a royal. She was both disgusted and captivated by herself. And for her, there was little enjoyment in life. Picking a man up at the bar was meaningless. The sunshine felt cold. This wasn't living, only existing. And Megara had never been sure how to transform from one to the other.

The hunters of Beacon Hills were quite tame. The Calaveras were not. You could travel the world and still be within their sight. It's a funny thing. To watch a royal werewolf brought to her knees in front of the man with wolfbane, a taser and a machine gun. Her pride was knocked. No, it vanished. It was her first and last visit to Mexico - not that she ever saw any of the country. She woke in a cell, strapped to a chair, electricity attached to her. The rules of the Game were simple. She answered their questions or she faced torture. Her constant nightmare, fear of being captured and reduced to nothing more than the animal they saw her as came true. They would never let her leave. To end the line of Zeus... a true victory. So Megara chose the pain. It was a month. Or she thinks it was. The days and nights pass by without recognition when a prisoner.

Eventually, they figured it out. They figured out that Megara had nothing to fight for - nothing more to lose. A Calavera pressed a gun to her forehead, asked if she had any last words. Megara told them that she would see them in the underworld. They would be cell mates. Equals under the torture of demons, or whatever Hades offered. She never saw the pattern of blood that stained the wall. She never knew that it took a week to scrub it out. She didn't know that her body was burnt, a charred corpse thrown out for disposal. There was no funeral. No mourners. No one remembered the girl who might have changed the world.