2

I could still feel the phantom grip of their hands on my arms, the bruises forming where they had dragged me through the village. But none of that compared to the suffocating weight in my chest as I stood before my Alpha, before my pack—before the people I had spent my entire life serving—while they watched me like I was nothing more than a criminal.

A traitor.

I wasn’t one of them anymore.

I could see it in their eyes. The way they refused to meet mine. The way no one stepped forward, no one spoke in my defense. The realization settled like ice in my veins.

I was already guilty in their minds.

I forced myself to swallow the panic clawing up my throat. My heart slammed against my ribs as I stared at the parchment spread open on the table before me—the so-called evidence of my betrayal. My name was there, at the bottom of the letters. My seal pressed into the wax. But I had never written those words.

I had never conspired against my pack.

I forced my voice to steady. “This is a lie.”

Alpha Ronan barely blinked. His sharp, calculating gaze remained fixed on me, as if he were watching a puzzle piece click into place. “You deny writing these?”

“I deny everything.” My voice rose, desperation curling at the edges. “That’s not my handwriting.”

Jonah exhaled sharply from beside the Alpha, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might snap. “It looks exactly like your handwriting, Lyra.”

I turned to him, my pulse roaring. “You’ve known me since we were children. Do you really think I could do something like this?”

He hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. And in that fraction, I thought—hoped—that he might come to his senses. That he might see reason. That he might remember the girl who had patched him up after every reckless fight, the girl who had never once stood against this pack.

But then he set his shoulders.

His expression hardened.

And he looked away.

The air left my lungs.

"Jonah, please," I whispered.

"I wish it wasn’t true," he muttered. "But we have proof."

My fingers curled into fists. “It’s not proof. It’s a setup. Someone planted those letters, and you all just accepted it without question.”

Alpha Ronan leaned back in his chair, studying me with the calm detachment of a man who already knew the ending to the story. “Then perhaps you can explain why a known Blood Moon spy was seen speaking with you.”

My head jerked up. “What?”

“Last moon cycle,” he said smoothly, like he wasn’t sentencing me to death. “A scout reported seeing you meeting with an unknown male at the border.”

I blinked. Flashes of memory surfaced—a wandering merchant, dressed in plain leathers, who had come through the pack looking for herbs to trade. I had met with him at the border, offering supplies. But he hadn’t seemed suspicious. He had barely even spoken.

“I met with a merchant,” I said, my voice shaking. “That’s all. A traveler looking for rare medicines. I gave him some valerian root and sent him on his way.”

Alpha Ronan tilted his head, his cold eyes never leaving mine. “And yet, that very same merchant was caught crossing into Blood Moon territory not a day later.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

The walls were closing in.

I took a slow, shaky breath, my mind grasping for something—anything—that would make them listen.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. “If I were a traitor, why would I be so careless? Why would I leave letters with my own seal? Why would I meet with spies in broad daylight where anyone could see me?”

Alpha Ronan sighed. “Guilt makes people sloppy.”

“I. Am. Not. Guilty.”

No one spoke.

No one moved.

I turned in a slow circle, my gaze sweeping across the crowd, searching for something—someone—to hold on to.

People I had healed. People whose children I had brought into this world. People I had laughed with, dined with, spent years serving with loyalty.

All of them silent.

I didn’t know what was worse—the accusations, or the fact that no one seemed to care if they were false.

My throat ached as I turned back to the Alpha. “Who benefits from this, Ronan? Have you thought about that?”

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder. A ripple of unease. But the Alpha only smiled. “Careful, Lyra. You are not in a position to be making accusations.”

“Neither are you,” I bit out.

The words had barely left my mouth before Jonah grabbed my wrist, his grip firm, warning.

“Lyra,” he hissed under his breath, “don’t make this worse.”

I laughed, but it was empty, hollow. “I think we both know it doesn’t matter what I say. This decision was made before I even walked in here.”

Jonah flinched. Good. He should feel guilty.

“You will be executed at dawn,” Alpha Ronan declared, his voice cutting through the hall. “By the hands of our executioner.”

The words slammed into me like a physical blow.

Executed.

My knees buckled, but I forced myself to stand tall. My nails bit into my palms. My breath came fast.

"No," I whispered. "No, this isn’t happening."

Jonah turned away.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, fighting for air, fighting for some way out of this.

And then—

The crowd parted.

And I saw him.

Kade Varian.

The executioner.

He stood at the back of the hall, his arms folded, his silver eyes locked onto mine.

A shiver crawled down my spine.

The entire pack feared him. He was the man who carried out the Alpha’s will without question. The one who ensured no traitor, no criminal, no enemy of the pack ever walked free.

And now, he was my fate.

I should have looked away.

But I couldn’t.

Kade’s gaze didn’t waver.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t judge.

Something about that was almost worse.

Alpha Ronan turned to him. “Do you accept your task?”

A long silence.

Then—

Kade nodded once. “I do.”

A final nail in my coffin.

I forced myself to breathe, to push back the wave of fear threatening to drag me under.

I would not break.

I lifted my chin, glaring at my Alpha, at my so-called pack, at the man who had just agreed to end my life.

And I said the only thing I had left.

“You’re all going to regret this.”

Kade’s silver eyes flickered.

And then the guards grabbed my arms, dragging me back toward the underground cells.

Back to the darkness.

Back to wait for death.