Richard’s POV
The three prisoners are dragged from the cells one final time—Garrick, Silas, Mara—naked, shivering, silver chains rattling like funeral bells. They drop to their knees in the center, heads bowed, the weight of their confessions hanging over them like and executioner’s axe.
I stand on the raised dais. The pack falls silent as I raise my hand.
“Nightforge,” I begin, voice sounding like thunder over the snow. “These three wolves were once of our blood. They were my seconds, my trackers, my scouts. They stood at my side for years, and they betrayed us.”
A low growl ripples through the ranks.
I pace the dais, eyes sweeping the crowd. “Garrick, you sold your pride for Vale’s gold and a w***e’s knot. Silas, you spilled secrets mid-rut, laughing while you locked yourself in
