7

I had taken lives before.

More than I cared to count. More than I let myself remember.

Some had been criminals, rogues who had spilled innocent blood. Some had been traitors, wolves who had tried to tear the pack apart from within. And some—some had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, their deaths serving as a warning to others.

I never questioned it. I never hesitated. I carried out my orders with the same precision I brought to every part of my life.

But now, I was hesitating.

I could still hear her voice in my head.

"You don’t believe them, do you?"

I hadn’t answered. I couldn’t.

Because I wasn’t sure anymore.

I stalked through the empty corridors of the warriors’ barracks, my mind turning over every detail of Lyra Ellwood’s case, trying to find the reason this was different.

It wasn’t the first time someone had claimed innocence.

It wasn’t the first time someone had begged.

But Lyra hadn’t begged.

She hadn’t pleaded for her life. She hadn’t cried or screamed or tried to manipulate her way to freedom.

She had looked me in the eyes—not with fear, but with certainty.

And that was what had stayed with me.

Because if she wasn’t guilty…

Then I was about to kill an innocent woman.

I pushed open the door to my private quarters and shut it behind me, the quiet pressing in on me like a weight. The small space was sparsely furnished—just a bed, a wooden table, a chair. No decorations. No warmth. Just like me.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly.

This was dangerous. These thoughts were dangerous.

I had followed Alpha Ronan’s orders without question for years. That was my purpose. It was the reason I was still standing, the reason I hadn’t ended up like the rogues I had once run with, hunted down and disposed of like feral animals.

I owed my life to the Alpha.

And yet…

I sat down at the table, my mind still tangled with thoughts I didn’t want to have. Thoughts I couldn’t seem to escape.

Lyra Ellwood.

The healer. The traitor.

The woman who had looked at me like I was a man, not a monster.

I should have walked away from her cell last night and forgotten everything she had said.

Instead, I was sitting here, questioning the one thing I was never supposed to question.

The Alpha’s judgment.

I exhaled sharply, leaning back in my chair. Maybe it wasn’t about her. Maybe it was about me. Maybe after years of carrying out these orders, something inside me had fractured.

But I knew that was a lie.

I had never doubted a single execution before.

So why was I doubting this one?

A sharp knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts. I straightened, masking the storm inside me as I called, "Come in."

The door swung open, and Jonah stepped inside.

Jonah Ellwood.

The Alpha’s son. Lyra’s childhood friend.

I had known him since we were young, though we had never been particularly close. He was respected, well-liked, a warrior who was expected to take over his father’s position one day.

But tonight, he looked… different.

Tense.

His shoulders were tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you want?"

Jonah shut the door behind him, his expression unreadable. "I need to talk to you."

I leaned back in my chair, watching him carefully. "About what?"

He hesitated, then exhaled slowly. "About Lyra."

I didn’t react, but something in my chest tightened.

Jonah ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small space like a caged animal. "You’re executing her at dawn."

It wasn’t a question.

I didn’t answer.

He stopped, his jaw tightening. "Do you believe she’s guilty?"

My fingers curled slightly against the table, but my face remained unreadable. "It doesn’t matter what I believe."

Jonah’s eyes darkened. "It should."

A flicker of something sharp slid through me. "Are you saying she isn’t guilty?"

Jonah’s silence was too long.

Too careful.

I stood slowly, my gaze locked onto his. "What do you know, Jonah?"

His throat bobbed. "Nothing."

"Liar."

He flinched.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "If you knew she was innocent, you would have spoken in the judgment hall."

Jonah’s jaw clenched, his gaze flicking away. "It’s not that simple."

"Then explain it to me."

He let out a sharp breath, raking a hand through his hair again. "I can’t."

Anger burned in my veins.

Jonah had always been the golden boy of the pack, the one who followed orders, who did what was expected of him. He had never challenged his father, never questioned the rules.

But I saw it now—hesitation. Guilt.

He knew something.

And he was letting Lyra die anyway.

I exhaled slowly, controlling the sharp edge of my voice. "You grew up with her. Do you really believe she would betray this pack?"

Jonah didn’t answer.

And that was enough.

I took a step back, my chest tightening. "You’re a coward."

His gaze snapped to mine, a flicker of fury beneath the guilt. "You think I want this?" he hissed. "You think this is easy for me?"

I scoffed. "You’re not the one waiting to be executed."

Jonah’s face hardened. "No. But I’m the one who has to live with it."

Something dark and bitter settled in my gut.

He would live with it.

But Lyra wouldn’t.

I turned away, my mind racing. "You should go."

Jonah hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding stiffly. He turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

Silence settled around me again.

But my mind was anything but silent.

Jonah hadn’t said the words. But his guilt had spoken for him.

Lyra wasn’t guilty.

And I was about to kill her anyway.

I sank back into my chair, gripping the edge of the table.

I had never disobeyed an order before.

But I had also never been ordered to kill an innocent woman.

My hands curled into fists.

What the hell was I going to do?