CHAPTER 100
1496 Words
The sound of the bell echoed through Archview before dawn.
One strike. Then another. Then a third.
It wasn’t the call to arms, or the warning of an attack.
It was the toll reserved for sentencing.
Every wolf in the village knew what it meant.
By the time the sun rose, people had gathered in the courtyard — guards, elders, pack members, even children clinging to their mothers’ skirts. A stage had been built overnight. Heavy wood. Chains. The symbol of the pack carved into the floorboards, waiting like a silent threat.
Whispers filled the cold air.
“They’re doing it today?”
“No — it’s just the announcement.”
“Still. It’s about time. After what she did—”
“What did she even do?”
“Does it matter? The Alpha wouldn’t allow this if she was innocent.”
Thea stood near the back of the crowd, her hood pulled low, fists clenched under her cloak. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But her jaw was tight enough to ache.
At the center of the platform stood Kion, his voice booming as he unrolled the decree. “By the authority of the Archview Council and the will of our Alpha, Kai of the Black Ridge bloodline, the prisoner Elise Thorne has been found guilty of treason against her pack and Alpha.”
A murmur swept through the crowd.
Kion continued, his tone smugly formal. “For her crimes of conspiracy, deceit, and endangering the lives of our kind, she is sentenced to death by public execution, to be carried out in seven days’ time.”
The noise exploded — cheers, gasps, a few horrified murmurs drowned beneath the noise.
“Justice!” someone shouted.
“She betrayed us all!” another voice joined in.
But not everyone cheered. Some stood silent, shifting uneasily, glancing at one another. The air was thick with something sharp — not victory, not justice. Just fear.
And at the edge of the crowd, Becky smiled faintly, her arms folded. Her gaze swept over the faces of the people — their divided reactions — and then up toward the balcony above the courtyard, where Kai stood in silence.
He didn’t look triumphant.
He looked… empty.
His eyes followed the crowd without expression, but when the words sentenced to death echoed through the air, a flicker of something crossed his face — regret, maybe, or doubt. Then it was gone.
Thea’s eyes found him too, hidden beneath her hood. And for the first time, she saw not an Alpha, but a man who’d lost control of his own soul.
Deep below the courtyard, Elise didn’t hear the announcement — not immediately.
She sat against the wall of her cell, knees drawn up, staring at the stone floor. The air was colder that morning. Even the torches outside burned weaker, the light dimming each time she looked up.
When the door creaked open, she didn’t bother to lift her head.
The guard — the younger one with kind eyes — hesitated before speaking. “They… they announced it.”
Her fingers froze where they rested on her knees. “Announced what?”
He looked away. “The sentence.”
She stared at him for a moment, her mind refusing to process the words. “Sentence,” she repeated quietly, as if testing their meaning.
He swallowed. “They’re going to execute you. Seven days from now.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Elise blinked slowly, her heartbeat a dull thud in her chest. Then she let out a sound — not a cry, not even a gasp. Just a small, broken breath that barely left her lips.
The guard’s expression faltered. “I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him finally, her eyes hollow. “You’re not,” she said softly. “You just pity me.”
He didn’t argue. He placed a small piece of bread on the floor — rough, half stale — and stepped back. “I shouldn’t even be here. If they find out I told you…”
“They’ll throw you down here with me,” she finished for him. Her voice was flat.
He hesitated. “Just… eat something. Please.”
She didn’t touch it.
When he left, the echo of the door closing sounded like the end of the world.
Elise sat there for a long time, staring at the bread on the ground until her vision blurred.
Execution.
The word rang in her head over and over, cruel and rhythmic.
They were going to kill her.
Her.
And Kai had allowed it.
Her hands began to shake. She pressed them against her knees until her nails dug into her skin.
She tried not to cry. Tried to stay still. But the tears came anyway, silent and angry, streaking down her cheeks before she could stop them.
She hated herself for it — for still hoping he’d come. For still believing that maybe, somehow, he’d walk through that door and tell her this was all a mistake.
But he didn’t.
And she knew he never would.
After what felt like hours, her tears stopped. Her throat burned, her chest heavy and hollow.
And then, slowly, something else took their place.
Not peace. Not forgiveness.
Something colder. Harder.
Resolve.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand and whispered into the silence, “I’m not dying like this.”
Her voice trembled, but she meant every word. “If I have to die, I’ll die proving I was never the traitor they think I am.”
The torches flickered — the faint sound of boots echoing down the corridor again.
This time it wasn’t a guard.
A small bundle was tossed through the bars, landing beside her. She blinked, then crawled toward it cautiously. Wrapped in rough cloth was a small piece of bread, still warm, and tucked beneath it — a folded note.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
“Hold on. Don’t give up. – T.”
Elise’s throat tightened.
Thea.
For the first time in days, a faint warmth spread through her chest. It wasn’t hope exactly — but something close enough to keep her breathing.
She held the note to her chest, whispering, “You shouldn’t have risked this.”
But deep down, she was grateful. It reminded her she wasn’t completely alone.
That night, Thea stood by the window of her small quarters, staring out at the guards patrolling below. Her mind was racing.
The council’s decision was irreversible — but rules were just walls, and walls could be broken.
Her fingers traced the edge of a folded paper on her desk. It was an old seal — the crest of her late brother’s lineage — still carrying a sliver of authority, if used right.
Thea exhaled shakily. “You said you’d protect her, Kai,” she muttered. “So if you won’t, I will.”
She moved quickly, lighting a candle and pulling out a blank sheet. Her handwriting was quick and deliberate:
To the Eastern Watch.
You owe me a favor. I’m calling it in.
She paused, then signed it — not as a servant, not as an omega, but with the name that still held weight among the older generation:
Thea.
When she sealed the letter, her hands trembled, but her jaw was firm.
If Elise was going to die, it wouldn’t be without a fight.
Back in the dungeon, Elise sat awake long after the torches dimmed.
The guards had changed shifts. The silence was heavier than before.
Her fingers brushed the folded note again, tracing the ink until it smudged.
Somewhere above, she imagined the pack cheering, celebrating the “justice” they thought they had.
Let them cheer.
Let them curse her name.
When her end came, she’d face it with her head high.
But deep down, another voice whispered — soft, unsteady, and impossible to silence.
Kai.
Her heart twisted at the thought. The part of her that still loved him — still longed for his voice — refused to die quietly.
She whispered into the dark, “You’ll see. One day, you’ll see what you’ve done.”
The chains around her wrists glinted faintly in the torchlight. She pulled at them once — hard enough to feel pain, just to remind herself she was still alive.
And as the night grew colder, she closed her eyes, gripping Thea’s note like it was the last piece of herself she had left.
By morning, rumors spread across Archview like wildfire.
Some said Elise Thorne cried when she heard the news. Others swore she laughed — that she was too far gone to care.
But the truth was quieter.
She hadn’t said a word.
And in the silence of her cell, where no one could see, the accused Luna of Archview made herself a silent promise.
They would not break her before the end.
Not Kion.
Not Becky.
Not even Kai.
- Writer
