THE FORSAKEN LYCAN PRINCESS.

CH 27..

"Beta Marcus?!" Gerald demanded, stepping in front of me instinctively, shielding my smaller frame with his body.

"What is the meaning of this?! I am on duty for the dawn sweep.."

"Save your lies, traitor!" Marcus barked, taking a heavy step forward.

"We searched the sub-level archives an hour ago and a secret Cresthaven tracking rune was found embedded in the northern boundary line, bearing your personal guard signature!"

My heart stopped. My blood ran completely cold.

The Cresthaven token!

Beta Marcus’s burning eyes flicked past Gerald’s shoulder, locking directly onto me. A sickening, razor-sharp smile spread across his face, his eyes glittering with a terrifying, predatory malice.

"And look what we have here..." Marcus purred, his voice dripping with venomous triumph.

"The missing little princess, hiding in the dark with her co-conspirator."

The air in the narrow stone room instantly turned to liquid ice.

Beta Marcus’s sneer cut through the dim lantern light like a jagged blade, his broadsword leveled straight at Gerald’s throat. Behind him, three hulking Silverwood Elite Enforcers fanned out, their heavy iron shoulder plates blocking the splintered doorway. The oppressive, suffocating weight of four dominant command-auras flooded the small space, slamming against my wolf-suppressed chest until every lungful of air burned like swallowed glass.

"Move away from her, traitor," Marcus growled, his golden eyes flashing with lethal intent.

"Or I will paint these stone walls with your blood before the Alpha even calls the trial."

Gerald didn't step back. He didn't blink. Every muscle in his massive frame coiled tight, his hand locked onto the leather grip of his short sword with a knuckle-whitening intensity. I could feel the violent vibration of his protective instinct radiating through the air between us.

"Gerald..." I choked out, a terrified whisper slipping past my split lips. My raw, bandaged fingers dug into the back of his leather chest-plate.

"Gerald, no... there are too many of them.."

"Quiet, Elara," Gerald commanded in a low, gravelly rasp that never wavered. He didn't look back at me. His eyes remained fixed on Marcus’s throat.

"Keep your eyes on the window."

"You think a disgraced patrol guard can stand against four Elite Enforcers?" Marcus laughed, a dark, raspy sound devoid of any humor. He signaled the guards with a sharp flick of his wrist.

"Restrain them both. Drag the girl to the high council tower. The Alpha is waiting."

The two guards on the left lunged forward in unison, their heavy iron boots shattering the floorboards, their broadswords sweeping low in a synchronized strike designed to disarm and crush.

What happened next was a blur of violence and instinct.

"RUN, ELARA!" Gerald roared.

Instead of parrying, Gerald threw his body directly into the path of the lead enforcer. He caught the guard’s descending blade on his leather forearm guard with a deafening CLANG of metal, instantly using his momentum to drive a bone-crushing elbow straight into the warrior's jaw. The guard’s head snapped back with a sickening c***k, and he collapsed onto the stone floor like a felled oak.

"Traitorous scum!" Marcus roared, his face contorting into pure rage as he thrust his own broadsword forward in a lethal lunging strike.

Gerald spun on his heel, his short sword sweeping upward in a desperate, sparking block that deflected Marcus’s heavy blade by a fraction of an inch. The sheer force of the impact drove Gerald back two steps, his boots skidding across the grit.

"GO! NOW!" Gerald screamed at me over the deafening clash of steel, his voice raw, desperate, and torn from the absolute depths of his soul.

"THE NORTHERN PERIMETER! DON'T LOOK BACK!"

Terror exploded in my chest like a shattered grenade. Panic screamed at me to stay, to fight, to throw my frail, unranked body between Gerald and their blades but I knew with absolute, brutal clarity that if I stayed, Gerald’s sacrifice would mean nothing. They would chain us both. They would hand me over to the Alpha.

I shoved off the heavy wooden table with every ounce of strength left in my battered frame.

I dove for the small, canvas-draped window behind the desk. My hands clawed at the coarse fabric, ripping it free from its iron nails. Outside, the pre-dawn fog hung thick and cold over the ditch trail, illuminated only by the frantic red glare of the watchtower alarm light.

"Stop her! Don't let the girl escape!"

Marcus’s booming command echoed inside the cramped room.

Behind me, the sickening sound of tearing flesh and a muffled gasp of agony tore through the chaotic air. I threw a desperate look over my shoulder just as I thrust my torso through the narrow window frame.

The third enforcer had driven the butt of his heavy spear straight into Gerald’s side, pinning him against the splintered wall. Gerald coughed blood, his short sword slipping from his numb fingers, but even as Marcus brought the heavy pommel of his blade crashing down against Gerald's head, Gerald reached out with both hands and grabbed Marcus by the throat, pinning the Beta with sheer, unyielding, suicidal willpower just to buy me three more seconds.

"GO, PRINCESS!" Gerald spat blood, his amber eyes locking onto mine through the dark for one final, agonizing second.

"RUN!"

Tears blinded my vision, burning hot against my ice-cold skin as I hurled myself through the window.

I fell ten feet into the frozen, mud-choked ditch below, landing hard on my bad shoulder. Pain screamed through my broken ribs, painting my vision in blinding white flashes of light. A ragged scream rose in my throat, but I bit my lip until the metallic taste of my own blood flooded my mouth, drowning out the urge to cry out.

Move, Elara! Move!

I scrambled to my feet, dragging my heavy, trembling limbs out of the ditch and plunging into the dense, pine-choked woods of the northern perimeter.

The forest was a nightmare of razor-sharp branches, slippery moss, and jagged stone. Sharp twigs whipped against my face, slicing my cheeks, but I didn't feel the pain. I didn't feel the freezing mud soaking through my thin boots or the excruciating throbbing in my sliced palm. All I heard was the heavy, rhythmic thud of my own frantic heartbeat hammering in my ears like a war drum.

Behind me, the alarms atop the Silverwood watchtowers screamed in a terrifying crescendo. Shouts echoed across the courtyard, followed by the deep, terrifying baying of bloodhounds being unleashed from the lower kennels.

They are coming.

I sprinted faster, my lungs gasping for air, burning as if filled with acid. I pushed through the thick wall of thorn bushes, my eyes searching the dark, misty ground for the landmark Gerald had described, the ancient, split oak tree marking the absolute edge of the Silverwood boundary line.

There. Fifty yards ahead, shrouded in dense mist, stood the colossal, dead oak tree, its lightning-split trunk towering over the boundary ditch like a jagged skeletal finger.

Hope, hot and desperate, flared in my chest. If I could reach the base of that tree, I will find my way and be safe.

I was ten feet from the trunk, my hand reaching out toward the moss-covered roots—

AAAAAGGGGHHHH!

A raw, agonized scream tore through the distant forest behind me. It wasn't the howl of a hunting wolf. It was the human, desperate, bone-chilling shriek of a man suffering unspeakable torture.

Gerald.

I froze in my tracks, my boots skidding into the wet mud inches from the split oak.

My breath hitched in my throat. My blood ran completely ice-cold.

"BRING THE AXE!" Beta Marcus’s amplified, magical command-voice echoed through the misty woods, vibrating through the very earth beneath my feet, carried by the Alpha power of the Silverwood throne.

"Guard Gerald has been found guilty of high treason and aiding the escape of a royal hostage! By order of Alpha King Raymond, his execution will take place at the northern gate in three minutes!"

A second shriek cut through the air, choked off by the heavy, sickening sound of an iron chain crushing a windpipe.

"Hear me, Elara!" Marcus’s voice purred through the trees, dropping into a terrifying, intimate whisper that seemed to echo right beside my ear.

"Step over that border.…and your sweet, loyal protector’s head drops onto the courtyard stones before your foot touches foreign soil. You have three minutes to walk back into the light."

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the quiet dripping of pine needles and the harsh, ragged gasps of my own breath.

I stood paralyzed at the base of the split oak tree. My hand hovered three inches above the mossy root, my one and only ticket to freedom, my only chance to escape the Silverwood Pack and the terrifying claws of Victoria.

Across the invisible border, safety waited in the dark woods of Cresthaven.

Behind me, in the cold courtyard of Silverwood, Gerald was on his knees, an executioner's blade resting against his neck.

My hand trembled violently above the stone. The tears streamed unbidden down my face, dripping off my chin and splashing onto the cold, damp earth.

I had to choose. Step forward and doom the only man who had ever loved and protected me... or turn back, surrender my body, and hand myself over to the monsters waiting in the dark.