5

The room was dimly lit, the scent of burning wood lingering in the air. The Alpha’s council chamber was nearly silent, save for the crackling fire in the hearth and the measured breathing of the men seated around the large stone table. It was a room meant for important discussions, for war strategies, for declarations that changed the course of the pack.

Tonight, it was where my fate would be sealed.

I stood at the far end of the chamber, my arms crossed behind my back, my posture rigid as I waited for Alpha Ronan to speak. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken decisions, until finally, the Alpha leaned forward, his sharp eyes pinning me in place.

"You have a task," he said, his voice as smooth as it was deadly.

I didn’t react. I never did.

"Lyra Ellwood," he continued, watching me carefully. "Dawn. Make it quick."

A slow pulse thrummed through my body.

I had known this was coming. It was my duty.

I had done it before, more times than I cared to count.

But something shifted inside me the moment he spoke her name.

Lyra.

The traitor.

The woman with the fire in her eyes and a voice that refused to break, even when the whole pack had turned against her.

I had seen her in that judgment hall.

The way she had stared down Alpha Ronan, unflinching. The way she had looked at the so-called evidence against her, as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream.

The way she had looked at me.

Like I was just another weapon. Another inevitable part of her fate.

I forced the strange feeling down, locking it away. It didn’t matter what she had done, whether she was innocent or guilty. The Alpha had spoken.

And I obeyed.

I always obeyed.

"You hesitate."

My gaze flicked up.

Ronan’s eyes were sharp, studying me with the scrutiny of a man who didn’t tolerate disobedience. The other council members were watching, too, their expressions carefully blank.

I kept my face emotionless. "Not at all."

A slow smirk curled at the Alpha’s lips. "Good."

He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the table. "You’ve served me well, Kade. There is no one more suited for this task. But let me be clear—she does not leave that execution ground alive."

His tone was final. Absolute.

I dipped my head in a nod. "Understood."

Ronan’s smirk widened, satisfaction gleaming in his dark eyes. "Then it’s settled."

The council murmured in agreement, their attention shifting away, already moving on to the next topic.

But something stuck in my chest.

Something I didn’t have a name for.

I turned without another word, my boots echoing against the stone as I left the chamber.

The cold night air hit me as soon as I stepped outside. The sky was ink-black, the moon high, casting silver light across the courtyard. The village was mostly asleep, the only movement coming from the warriors patrolling the grounds.

I moved through the pathways instinctively, my body operating on routine while my mind… wasn’t.

I had carried out orders my entire life. I had been trained for this, conditioned to follow commands without question. And I had.

Until now.

Until her.

My steps slowed as I reached the entrance to the underground prison. The guards straightened when they saw me, their eyes flickering with something between unease and respect.

"The prisoner is still in her cell," one of them said quickly. "Hasn’t made a sound in hours."

I didn’t respond.

Instead, I stepped past them, pushing open the heavy iron door that led into the depths below.

The familiar scent of damp stone and stale air surrounded me as I descended the stairs. The torches lining the corridor flickered weakly, barely holding back the darkness.

I stopped in front of her cell.

Lyra was curled in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, her face partially hidden in the dim light.

She was awake.

I could feel it.

"Do you always watch people while they sleep?"

Her voice was quiet, but there was no fear in it. Only bitterness.

I leaned against the iron bars. "You’re not asleep."

Lyra slowly lifted her head, her golden-brown eyes locking onto mine. Even in the faint torchlight, they burned with something fierce.

"You’re here to tell me how I’ll die?" she asked, her tone sharp, unyielding.

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know the answer myself.

She exhaled a humorless laugh. "I’m surprised you even bother speaking to the people you kill. Do they usually thank you for the conversation before you slit their throats?"

I tilted my head slightly. "You think it’ll be a blade?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t look away.

I took a slow step closer to the bars. "You’re not afraid."

She scoffed. "Oh, I’m terrified. But fear won’t change anything, will it?"

Something twisted in my chest.

I had seen countless prisoners before their execution. Some sobbed. Some begged. Some tried to fight, even when they had no chance.

But I had never seen someone like her.

Someone who refused to break.

Someone who met death the way a warrior met battle—with a lifted chin and a fire in her soul.

"I didn’t do it, you know," she said after a long pause.

I remained silent.

"Not that it matters," she continued, her voice softer now. "No one cares if I did or didn’t. The pack needed a traitor, and I was convenient. That’s all this is."

Her words shouldn’t have meant anything to me.

But they did.

I didn’t respond.

Couldn’t.

Because suddenly, I wasn’t sure I could ignore the truth pressing against my ribs.

Something wasn’t right about this.

I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. The weight of injustice. Of knowing she had been damned by a lie and still refusing to kneel.

And for the first time in my life, I hesitated.

Lyra watched me closely, something unreadable flickering across her expression.

Then she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Are you going to kill me, Kade?"

I should have said yes.

I should have left.

Instead, I stood there, staring at the woman I had been ordered to execute, and said nothing.