4

The silence in the underground prison was deafening.

For hours—maybe longer, I had no way of knowing—I sat curled in the corner of my damp cell, my mind racing in endless circles. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of the judgment hall returned, sharp and unforgiving.

The betrayal.

The lies.

The way no one had fought for me.

I forced a deep breath into my lungs, pressing my forehead against my drawn-up knees. I wouldn’t cry. I refused to cry.

Crying was for people who had hope left.

The dim torchlight from the corridor cast long shadows across the cold stone floor. It flickered through the iron bars, doing little to keep the darkness at bay. I had no idea how much time had passed. The walls of the prison had no windows, no sense of morning or night.

For all I knew, dawn was already coming.

The thought sent a fresh wave of panic curling in my gut. Dawn meant death. And my only company until then was the suffocating darkness and the knowledge that I would be taken to the execution grounds soon.

No.

I squeezed my hands into fists. I wasn’t dead yet.

And as long as I still had breath in my body, I wouldn’t stop trying to find a way out.

A soft, dry chuckle broke the silence.

"First time in a cell?"

I jerked my head up, my body tensing at the sound of the raspy, feminine voice. It came from the cell across from mine, where the shadows were thickest.

I squinted, barely making out the silhouette of a woman sitting against the far wall, her arms draped over her knees. She was watching me with tired amusement, the dim torchlight barely catching on the sharp lines of her face.

I hadn’t even realized there were other prisoners here.

I wet my lips. My voice came out hoarse. "That obvious?"

The woman let out another low chuckle. "You’re still shaking. That usually goes away after the first few nights."

I stiffened. Nights.

Did she mean she’d been down here for days?

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "How long have you been in here?"

She tilted her head, considering. "Too long."

My stomach churned. I wanted to ask more, but a deep voice cut through the silence before I could.

"You should save your breath, girl. Won’t do you much good down here."

This time, the voice came from my left. I turned sharply, squinting into the cell beside mine. A man sat against the iron bars, his long hair tangled, his face covered in days—maybe weeks—of stubble. He looked older than me, but not by much. Maybe mid-thirties.

Unlike the woman, there was no amusement in his expression. Just exhaustion.

He leaned forward slightly, the flickering light catching on the deep scars that marred his forearms. His eyes were shadowed. Hollow.

Like he’d already given up.

A slow dread curled in my stomach. How many prisoners were here? And how long had they been kept like this?

I licked my dry lips. "What’s your name?"

The man’s lip twitched, but there was no humor behind it. "Does it matter?"

"Humor her, Callum," the woman said lazily. "Might as well give her some company before they march her to her grave."

A chill slid down my spine.

Callum exhaled sharply through his nose but muttered, "Callum Grant."

I turned to the woman. "And you?"

She smirked. "Serena."

I swallowed, shifting uncomfortably against the damp stone. "Why are you both here?"

Serena stretched out her legs. "Oh, you know, the usual. Breathing wrong. Thinking wrong. Not bowing low enough to our dear Alpha."

Something sharp settled behind my ribs.

Callum snorted. "She’s not joking."

I turned to him, my pulse picking up. "You were imprisoned for… what? Disrespecting him?"

His mouth twisted, but there was no anger—just something dull. Empty.

"I was one of the warriors," he said, voice flat. "I questioned an order. One time. Just once."

My stomach turned. "And he threw you down here for it?"

His lip curled. "The only reason I’m still breathing is because he hasn’t gotten around to ordering my execution yet."

My breath hitched. The only reason.

I turned back to Serena. She was still smirking, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

"And you?" I asked quietly.

She flicked her fingers through the bars. "I was a high-ranking scout. One of the best. Until I got too curious."

The air felt suddenly heavy.

"Curious?"

Serena hummed. "I stumbled across something our Alpha didn’t want me to see."

"What?"

Her smirk widened, but it was sharp now. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Something uneasy settled in my gut. "You’re talking in riddles."

Serena leaned back against the wall, stretching her arms over her head. "And you’re asking too many questions. You’ll be dead before sunrise, sweetheart. No point in learning secrets you won’t live to repeat."

Ice trickled through my veins.

"You don’t know that," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.

Serena let out a soft, almost pitying laugh.

Callum, however, just shook his head. "You don’t get it, do you?"

I turned to him.

He met my gaze, his tired eyes filled with something like regret.

"No one gets out of here alive."

My throat closed.

Silence hung between us, heavy and suffocating.

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to scream that I wasn’t supposed to be here, that someone would realize the truth, that Jonah would come to his senses, that this was all just some horrible mistake.

But I didn’t.

Because deep down, I already knew the truth.

There were no mistakes in Alpha Ronan’s rule.

Only decisions.

And he had already made mine.

I curled my fingers around my arms, my pulse thundering. "Then how are you both still alive?"

Callum let out a bitter laugh. "Because Ronan enjoys the illusion of mercy. He keeps some of us down here just long enough to make the others afraid. To remind them what happens when they step out of line. And when he decides we’re no longer useful?"

His expression darkened.

"Then we disappear."

A cold sweat broke out across my skin.

I turned back to Serena, desperate for some kind of contradiction, some kind of hope. But she just gave me that same sharp smile.

"Welcome to the graveyard, sweetheart."

I swallowed hard, my mind spinning.

I couldn’t stay here. I wouldn’t.

I would not rot away in this place, waiting for death to claim me.

I wasn’t like them. I still had a chance.

I still had something they didn’t.

An execution date.

A guarantee.

Kade Varian.

The executioner.

And the only man who could change my fate.