TWO: THE ESCAPE PLAN
1310 Words
[KIERAN POINT OF VIEW]
I leaned forward, gripping the cold bars between us. "I swear to you, I didn't kill him. I woke up, and he was already—" My voice caught, just for a moment, but I forced myself to continue. "Someone else was there. Someone fast enough, strong enough, to take him down before I even knew what was happening."
Zelira nodded without hesitation. "Kieran... I know you didn't do it. We both do. But no one else cares about the truth right now." She hesitated for the briefest second before continuing, "The Elders say you're already the alpha since your father's gone... and that makes you dangerous."
My jaw tightened. "They still think I killed him."
Zelira stepped closer, lowering her voice. "They don't just think it. They believe it completely. Witnesses swore they saw you with the blade in your hand. Even your mother..." She hesitated, her usual firmness softening.
I swallowed hard. "Is she angry with me?"
Zelira's gaze dropped. "She's... confused. She doesn't know what to believe, but she hasn't defended you either."
The silence was heavy.
I could almost hear the Elders' verdict in my head like a death sentence already carved into stone.
Cael leaned in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Which is why we're breaking you out tonight."
I arched a brow. "Breaking me out? You make it sound simple."
"You doesn't have a choice, Kieran." Cael's voice lost its teasing edge for once. "If you stays, they'll kill you. If you escapes, at least you has a chance to clear your name."
I looked at both of them. "But how?"
Cael grinned wider. "Simple. Distraction, chaos, and a bit of my unmatched charm."
Zelira shot him a withering look. "Or, in actual words—while I draw the guards away, Cael will get the keys. You'll have seconds to run."
I looked between them.
They were risking their lives for me, without hesitation. "You're both sure about this?"
Zelira's voice was firm. "Don't let the real traitor wins."
Cael added with a wink, "Besides, I've always wanted to see if these tunnels still work. Feels like an adventure."
I stepped back from the bars, a spark of determination replacing the numbness in my chest. "I'm in. Let's do it."
Cael clapped me on the shoulder. "I knew you would be. Now, let's break the most ridiculous rule in the pack's history—never help a fugitive alpha's son escape."
Zelira's lips tightened, but her eyes glimmered with determination.
"Then we'll be back later tonight. Be ready—once we start, there's no turning back."
They both slipped out of the cell block, leaving me alone with nothing but the pounding of my heart and the promise of freedom.
—-
The cell block was silent except for the faint drip of water in the corner.
I'd been pacing for what felt like hours, every creak of the old stone walls making my pulse spike. The dungeon of Shadowspire had a way of grinding into your bones, making you feel like the walls themselves were listening.
Then—soft footsteps. Two shadows slipped into view.
Cael was the first to slip through, moving like he owned the place, grin crooked even in the gloom. "Showtime," he whispered, grinning like we were about to pull a prank instead of a prison break.
"You took your time," I hissed.
"Hey," he shrugged, pulling a small pouch of tools from his belt. "Some of us had to borrow things from the blacksmith without getting our heads ripped off."
Zelira followed, hood drawn low, every motion sharp and deliberate.
Her eyes swept the corridor, counting shadows, listening to the faint clatter of a guard's boots in the distance. "We don't have long. The patrol shifts in eight minutes."
"Eight minutes?" Cael crouched at the lock, flashing a wink. "Please. I can do this in—" A click rang out, sharp and clean. "—three."
The cell door groaned as it swung open. The three of us froze, listening.
Torches crackled somewhere beyond the hall. Faint voices carried—a guard laughing about dice. Then silence.
I slipped out, my muscles stiff from days of confinement, and crossed to the table by the wall where my boots sat..
The leather felt heavier than I remembered as I pulled them on.
"Tell me you have a way out that's not through the main door," I muttered.
Zelira tilted her chin toward the far corner, where shadows pooled thickly. "There's an old drainage tunnel beneath the north wall. Narrow, but it leads into the forest. Cael found it."
"Found it?" Cael scoffed, twirling a pick between his fingers. "I discovered it. Completely different."
We slipped through the corridor, the sound of our boots unnervingly loud against the stone.
Every flicker of torchlight felt like it would expose us.
My senses were on fire—every shift in the air, every distant clank of metal sounding like a death knell.
Twice, Zelira froze us with a sharp hand signal. Once when a guard passed too close, torchlight spilling almost to our boots before vanishing.
The second time, when a drunk Gamma stumbled past muttering about the "traitor." We held our breath until his steps faded into nothing.
When we finally reached the far corner, I saw it, half-hidden behind crates, a rusted iron grate.
Nearly fused into the stone from years of disuse.
Zelira knelt, sliding a short blade into the corroded frame.
Her arms strained, every scrape of metal against stone setting my nerves on edge. "Once you're out there, keep to the trees. Don't stop, no matter what you hear."
I frowned at her. "You make it sound like you're not coming with me."
"We can't," she said quietly. "If we vanish too, the elders will know we helped you. This way, they'll think you overpowered us during the visit."
The grate gave a sharp metallic scrape as it tore loose. A rush of cold air spilled upward, damp stone and wet soil carried with it.
Freedom.
I dropped into the tunnel first. The space was narrow, forcing me to crawl, shoulders brushing slick stone.
The air was foul—stale water and rot clung to every breath.
Behind me, Zelira replaced the grate, muffling the faint torchlight until I was swallowed by black.
My palms sank into cold sludge as I dragged myself forward. Every scrape echoed.
The tunnel twisted like a throat, narrowing so tight I felt my chest squeeze.
Claustrophobic panic clawed at the edge of my mind, but I ground my teeth and forced myself forward.
Above me, faint thuds echoed. Boots. Guards crossing the courtyard.
One wrong noise, one echo, and they'd hear me.
I crawled faster. My lungs burned, every inhale thick with mildew.
The sound of water grew louder until suddenly—light.
Faint and silvery, spilling through cracks ahead.
I pushed harder until the tunnel widened, spitting me out onto a slope of wet soil and moss. Cold night air slapped my face, sharp and clean after the stench of stone.
The forest stretched beyond the wall, shadows deep and endless.
I turned back once, looking through the black throat of the tunnel. Zelira's voice carried faintly from the other side, steady as steel. "You're not safe yet. But you're free—for now."
Cael added, his tone half a whisper, half a laugh. "Try not to die before you clear your name, yeah?"
My throat tightened. "Thank you. Both of you."
Then I ran.
The night swallowed me whole, branches tearing at my clothes, roots biting at my boots. I didn't look back. Couldn't.
Because now, I was no longer just Kieran, heir to the Nightfang Pack.
I was a fugitive in my own territory—
and the real killer was still out there, watching.
- Writer
