Chapter 24 #2
“Violet…” Anne’s voice cracks. “He cares about you. I know he does. Maybe—”
“Maybe what?” Tears slip down my face before I can stop them. “Maybe he’ll make an exception? You haven’t heard how he talks about hybrids, Anne. The disgust in his voice. The moment he finds out what I am, everything will change. He would never protect someone like me. Never.”
Anne opens her mouth to respond, but suddenly, she looks over her shoulder.
Sienna appears next to her silently, her expression shifting from shock to fury in the span of a heartbeat as she takes in my condition.
“We are not giving up on you,” Anne insists. “If we can’t break you out now, we’ll find another way.”
Sienna joins in with Anne at the bars, both of them yanking with everything they have.
“Stop.” The word comes out louder than I thought I could still speak. “You can’t. You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to us.” Sienna’s voice is gentle but insistent.
“Alaric will kill you.” My chest heaves with the effort of speaking. “Both of you. If you try to help me, he’ll execute you, too.”
“We don’t care about—”
“You don’t know how deep this goes.” The words pour out desperately now. “If he’s willing to execute me and his mate to keep his secrets buried, two more wolves will mean nothing to him.”
Sienna’s face hardens. “What are you talking about? What secrets?”
“I can’t tell you. He’ll kill you if he suspects you know anything.” Tears stream down my face. “And I don’t want you to die because of me. You’re my friends.”
“Violet—”
“Get out of here.” My voice breaks. “If you care about me at all, you’ll go. Forget about me, and you’ll be safe.”
They don’t move. They just stand there, looking at me like I’m something precious that’s slipping through their fingers.
Anne crouches down, her hand reaching through the bars. She slides a small object across the stone floor toward me.
A pen knife.
“This will help you get out of the restraints,” she says quietly. “You’re a hybrid. That means you’re strong, Violet. Stronger than you know. Don’t stop fighting.”
The knife lands just out of arm’s reach. I stare at it, my wrists held tight to the wall by the chains.
“We’ll find another way to help,” Sienna tells me. “Without being seen. We’re not giving up on you.”
“Don’t come back,” I whisper. “It’s not safe.”
But they’re already moving, slipping back into the shadows of the corridor. Their footsteps fade quickly, and then I’m alone again.
Except, I’m not completely alone. There’s a pen knife on the floor.
I stretch my leg out, ignoring the blinding pain. The chains on my wrists bite deeper as I shift positions, but my foot reaches the blade. I nudge it closer. A little more. Almost there.
My fingers close around the handle.
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by despair. What am I supposed to do with this? The chains are spelled. The lock is reinforced; Ryker even had trouble with the actual key.
But I have to try.
My wolf stirs inside me, pushing against the magical barriers that hold her. She’s weak, so weak, but she’s fighting.
Stay with me, I tell her. We’re not done yet.
I twist my wrist, trying to angle the knife toward the keyhole. The blade is small, meant for easy tasks, not breaking enchanted restraints. But maybe if I can just—
The knife snaps. Breaks clean off, clattering to the stone floor.
“No.” The word comes out as a sob. “No, no, no.”
I’m left holding the handle, useless and broken, while the blade lies just out of reach.
My head falls back against the wall. Tears pour down my cheeks unchecked.
I tried. I tried, and I failed.
Just like with everything else.
The execution is in two days, according to Ryker. Two days until they drag me out in front of everyone and make an example of me.
I wonder what Darius will think when he hears. Will he feel relieved? Vindicated? Will he stand in the crowd and watch with those cold eyes, satisfied that another hybrid is being eliminated?
The thought makes me want to scream, but I don’t have the energy anymore.
I think of Cinnamon. Her soft fur. Her excited yips when I come home. Emma will take care of her. Emma loves that puppy almost as much as I do.
The tears come faster now. I don’t try to stop them.
Meals in my apartment. Walks with Cinnamon. Laughing with Anne and Sienna over nothing at all.
Such small things. But they were mine.
Darius’s hands on my skin. His mouth on mine. The way he looked at me in those stolen moments when he thought no one was watching.
All lies. All fantasy. All wishful thinking from a girl who should have known better.
He would have killed me eventually. The moment he found out what I was, he would have done his duty. Would have stood there and watched me die because that’s what good alphas do. They protect their pack from threats.
And I’m a threat. Always have been, always will be.
My chest caves in on itself. My ribs contract around a heart that won’t stop wanting him, won’t stop wishing things could be different.
I want to hate him. I should hate him.
But I can’t.
Foolish. So incredibly foolish.
But my heart doesn’t care about logic. It just keeps beating, keeps aching, keeps wanting what it can never have.
My wolf howls inside me, a sound of pure misery that echoes through my consciousness. She knows. Understands. This is the end.
I’m sorry, I tell her silently. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save us.
She doesn’t respond. Just keeps howling, mourning what we’re about to lose.
Everything.
This is how it ends.
And all I can think about is him.
Always him.
Even now. Even at the end.
Idiotic, hopeless heart.
The cell door crashes open.
I jerk awake, my body screaming in protest. How long was I asleep? Minutes? Hours? Time has lost all meaning in this dark, dank place.
“Get up.” The guard’s voice is flat, emotionless.
I don’t move fast enough. Rough hands grab my arms, yanking me to my feet. My legs buckle, and I would collapse if these men weren’t holding me up.
“She can barely stand,” one of them mutters.
“Doesn’t matter. Alpha’s orders.”
They unlock the chains from the wall but replace them with heavier ones, iron links that restrict my wrists and ankles. The weight pulls at my already damaged skin.
“Move.”
I take a stumbling step forward. My shin throbs despite how much it has healed. Every movement sends agony through my body, but I force myself to walk. To keep my head up even as they drag me down the corridor.
The stone walls give way to stairs. Up and up, my legs shaking with the effort. Sunlight filters down from above, bright and blinding after so long in the darkness.
We emerge outdoors. I squint against the sudden light, my eyes watering. The sky stretches overhead, brilliant blue and cloudless. A beautiful day for dying.
The arena spreads out before me.
I’ve heard about these places. Every pack has one, but I’ve never seen ours in person. Stone seats rise in tiers, surrounding a circular pit. An open-air amphitheater where the pack gathers to watch justice be served. Entertainment disguised as law enforcement.
Pack members already fill the seats. Hundreds of them. Their faces blur together, a sea of strangers come to watch me die.
My heart hardens in my chest. I won’t give them the satisfaction of tears. Won’t beg or plead or break down. If this is how it ends, I’ll face it standing.
They drag me toward the center of the arena. The sound of my chains scraping against the stone echoes, amplified by the bowl shape of the space.
Zion stands near the front, close to where Alaric sits in an ornate chair. The Alpha’s seat. The place of judgment.
Zion is smirking. That same cruel twist of his lips I remember from when he captured my mother and me. When he destroyed my world.
Alaric looks furious. His jaw is clenched so tight, I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
He never got my mother’s location out of me.
The thought brings a savage satisfaction. I may be dying, but she’s still free. Still out there somewhere. That has to count for something.
My gaze sweeps the crowd, looking for familiar faces. Anne. Sienna. Anyone who might mourn me when this is over.
Then, I see him.
Ryker sits in the section reserved for important guests: visiting alphas and their heirs. His jaw is tense, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair.
Our eyes meet across the arena.
He gives a faint nod. Subtle, so discreet that anyone watching would miss it.
Relief floods through me so suddenly that my knees go weak. The guards holding me tighten their grip to keep me upright.
She made it. My mother made it.
Ryker wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be sitting calmly in the guest section, if something had gone wrong. He’d be in chains beside me. Or dead.
Thank you, I mouth silently.
He doesn’t respond. Just looks away, his expression carefully neutral.
The guards drag me to the exact center of the arena and force me to my knees. The impact jars my bones. I bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out.
Four shifters approach from different directions.
They move with the coordinated precision of wolves who have done this before. Who have practiced this. My stomach churns as I realize what they’re wearing.
Execution gear.
“For the crime of betraying the Alpha,” Zion’s voice rings out across the arena, amplified somehow so everyone can hear, “for the crime of attempting to harm this pack and harboring dangerous secrets, Violet Moonvale is condemned to be quartered.”
The word slams into me like a physical blow.
Quartered.
No. No, no, no.
This is how they are going to kill me. The four executioners will shift into their wolf forms. Then, the guards will tie my limbs to the wolves, who will run in four different directions, tearing me apart, piece by piece, while the entire pack watches.
My wolf howls inside me, frantic and terrified. She throws herself against the barriers of the spelled chains, desperate to break free. To fight. To survive.
But there’s nowhere to run.
The executioners move closer, their massive forms casting shadows across the stone. I can smell them, the musk and the wildness and the death.
One approaches my right arm. Another my left. Two more position themselves at my legs.
I’m going to die. Right here, right now, literally torn apart in front of everyone.
And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.