Chapter two
1453 Words
The room erupted. Elders shouted, pack members whispered, Damon’s fury shook the very walls.
And Dahlia? She stood in the center, broken, begging for someone, anyone, to believe her.
The air in the courthouse felt heavier than chains. Every whisper from the crowd was a dagger piercing Dahlia’s skin, every stare another wound. She had dreamed of standing in this hall one day as Luna beside her mate, respected and loved. Now she stood shackled, her wrists bruised from iron cuffs, her name smeared across parchment and photographs.
“Bring forth the evidence,” Elder Rowan commanded, his voice carrying like a whip. His grey beard shook with the weight of his words. “If this woman, our Luna, has deceived the pack, we must know.”
A healer stepped forward, a satchel clutched against his chest. His eyes flickered with something Dahlia couldn’t read; shame, maybe, or guilt. He opened the satchel and laid out a series of files across the council table. The parchment was yellowed, stamped with seals, signed in ink.
“These,” he said, his voice shaking, “are medical records from our archives. They indicate Luna Dahlia has undergone multiple terminations of pregnancy. Five in total, spanning three years.”
Gasps rippled through the hall. Elders leaned forward, their eyes sharp with judgment. Dahlia’s heart thundered, blood rushing in her ears. She couldn’t breathe.
“No,” she croaked, stepping forward until her chains pulled taut. “That’s not true. I’ve never been pregnant. Never. Damon, you know I would have told you."
Her husband didn’t look at her. He stood rigid, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the records as if they were scripture. His jaw ticked. His silence burned worse than any accusation.
“Forged,” Dahlia said desperately. “They’re forged. Someone doctored them.”
Elder Rowan lifted one of the sheets, peering through his spectacles. “The signatures of three healers are here. The procedures were done in secret, yes, but the records exist.”
Her knees trembled. “Please,” she begged, turning to the healer. “You know this is a lie. Look at me. Tell them the truth.”
The healer’s eyes darted away. His lips pressed into a line. “I...I only deliver what I am given.”
“Coward,” Dahlia whispered, her voice breaking. “You know I didn’t do this.”
The elders began to mutter, words like disgrace and betrayal weaving through the air. She caught the words “not fit for Luna” more than once. Her stomach twisted violently.
Then, as if she hadn’t already suffered enough, Talia glided into the hall. Her honey-blonde hair shimmered in the torchlight, her posture regal, as if she owned the place. She wore white today, like purity itself, though Dahlia saw the poison dripping from her smile.
“Elders,” Talia said sweetly, curtsying. “Forgive me for interrupting. But as Dahlia’s sister, I feel it is my duty to confirm the truth. She has been reckless for years, shaming our family. I kept her secrets as long as I could, but the pack deserves honesty.”
“You liar,” Dahlia spat, her voice cracking. “Stop it. Stop all of this.”
Talia tilted her head, feigning pity. “Dahlia, you brought this on yourself. You thought you could hide everything, but lies rot eventually.”
Elder Rowan slammed his gavel. “Silence.” His voice shook the chamber. He turned his gaze to Damon. “Alpha. You have heard the testimonies, seen the records. What is your will?”
Every eye turned to him. Dahlia held her breath, her chest aching as if her ribs were caving in. This was the moment. If he chose her, defended her, she could still breathe. If he didn’t...¦
Damon finally looked at her. His deep brown eyes were unreadable, empty in a way that terrified her. “I wanted to believe you,” he said quietly. “But everything points to your guilt.”
Her heart shattered into dust. “You don’t believe me? After everything? After three years of standing by your side?”
He flinched but didn’t answer.
The elders spoke among themselves before Elder Rowan raised his gavel again. “Then it is decided. Dahlia Grey, Luna of the Nightshade Pack, is hereby stripped of her position and sentenced to imprisonment until further notice. The pack cannot risk a deceiver in its highest seat.”
“No!” Dahlia screamed, thrashing against the guards as they seized her arms. “Damon, please! Look at me! I didn’t do this! I swear on my wolf."
Her voice broke, because her wolf was silent. It always had been. And in the silence, she saw doubt harden in Damon’s eyes. He turned away.
The guards dragged her from the hall. Every step echoed like a drumbeat of death.
The dungeon reeked of mold and damp stone. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, each drop a cruel reminder of time crawling by. Chains clinked when Dahlia shifted on the cold floor. Her thin dress clung to her skin, and her curls hung heavy with sweat and tears.
She replayed everything over and over. The photos. The records. Peterson’s false confession. And Damon’s silence. Always his silence. She had believed in him more than anything, yet he had believed everyone else.
The door creaked open. Footsteps clicked against the stone. She didn’t lift her head. She knew that perfume, that smug rhythm. Talia.
“Well, well,” Talia’s voice cooed through the darkness. “The mighty Luna, reduced to a rat in a cage.”
Dahlia forced herself to look up. Her sister stood before her cell, flawless as ever, her smile like a blade. “Why are you doing this?” Dahlia whispered. “What did I ever do to you?”
Talia crouched down, her green eyes gleaming with venom. “You want the truth?” She leaned closer, her tone almost tender. “You ruined my life before you even knew it.”
Dahlia’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Our parents’ death,” Talia hissed. “The fire. You survived. They didn’t. Do you know what that did to me? Watching them burn, knowing you were the reason they ran back inside?”
“That’s not true,” Dahlia cried, shaking her head. “I was a child. I didn’t start that fire."
“They ran back in to save you,” Talia snapped, her voice cutting like glass. “If you hadn’t been there, they would’ve lived. From that day, I swore I’d make you pay.”
Dahlia’s lips trembled. “You can’t blame me for surviving.”
“I can,” Talia said simply. Her smile curved into something wicked. “And I have.”
She straightened and placed a hand on her flat stomach. “Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore. Damon doesn’t need you. He has me. I’m carrying his child.”
Dahlia froze. The words sliced through her like steel. “No,” she whispered. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Talia’s eyes sparkled. “The pack will celebrate me as Luna soon. The elders are already pressing Damon to make it official. You’ll rot in this dungeon, forgotten.”
Dahlia’s stomach heaved. Her knees pulled to her chest as bile burned her throat. She wanted to scream, to claw at Talia’s smug face, but the chains held her still.
“You envy me,” Dahlia managed, her voice trembling. “That’s what this is about. You couldn’t stand that Damon chose me.”
“Chose you?” Talia laughed, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “He settled for you. But me? He couldn’t resist. Do you know how satisfying it was, hearing him whisper my name while still wearing your mark on his neck?”
Dahlia’s chest collapsed around her heart. Her vision blurred with tears. She wanted to die. She wanted to vanish into the stone.
“Don’t worry, sister,” Talia said lightly, standing tall. “I’ll take care of the pack. And when my child is born, the Nightshade line will thrive. You were only a placeholder.”
She turned toward the door, her heels clicking with triumph. “Sweet dreams in your cage, Dahlia. They’ll be the only ones you have left.”
The door slammed shut, leaving Dahlia in suffocating silence.
The dungeon door screeched open, flooding the room with light so bright it stabbed Dahlia’s eyes. She flinched, curling into herself. For a heartbeat, she thought it was Talia again, come to twist the knife deeper.
But it wasn’t.
It was Damon.
- Writer
