02⁓ Death By Drowning

Ayla's Point Of View

The stench of mildew and blood choked the air as they dragged me down the winding stone steps. The farther we went, the colder it got like the walls themselves held their breath, waiting to watch me break.

Chains clinked with every step. Not just mine. Others. Forgotten screams seemed to echo in the darkness, ghosts of traitors past. But I wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t.

The guards threw me against the damp stone wall. My shoulder slammed into the corner hard enough to draw blood. I gasped, the sting tearing through me like fire.

Anton stepped into the light.

His eyes gleamed with quiet cruelty, his voice measured. “Tie her up. She’s not bleeding enough yet.”

“Please,” I croaked, chest heaving. “I didn’t kill Alpha Rowan. I didn’t even hate him…”

Crack.

The first whip slashed across my back, a cruel line of fire that made my body arch against the chains. I screamed. Not just from the pain, but from the betrayal. I was innocent.

Crack.

Silver. I could smell it… burning metal and blood. Then the wolfsbane hit my skin. It was agony unlike anything I’d ever known. Like being set on fire from the inside.

“I didn’t kill him!” I cried again, voice raw, barely audible over the next lash.

Anton folded his arms, watching with dead eyes. “You murdered the only man who ever saw potential in you. You spat on your bloodline. You deserve every stroke.”

The next hit struck lower. My legs buckled. My knees hit the ground with a wet thud, but the chains kept me upright, arms bound above my head, wrists burning from the strain.

Crack.

“I didn’t!”

Another.

And another.

Until the words died in my throat.

Blood trickled down my back, sticky and warm, pooling at my knees. My hair clung to my face, soaked in sweat and filth. I couldn’t see. One of my eyes had swollen shut. My ribs screamed with every breath.

I let out a whimper. That’s all I had left.

“She’s not screaming anymore,” one of the guards muttered. “Then keep going,” Anton said flatly. “Let her scream until she begs for death.”

I tried to lift my head. “Please… Julian…”

Nothing.

No one was coming.

There was no light in this place. No warmth. Just stone and screams and betrayal. My voice cracked as I tried once more.

“I didn’t… kill him… I loved this pack... I loved him.”

The silver kissed my skin again. I barely felt it now. Only numbness. Only the cold. The last thing I heard before my world slipped into blackness was Anton’s whisper near my ear.

“Tomorrow, they’ll decide what to do with you. But I hope they let me finish what I started.”

**********

Darkness clung to me like a second skin.

I don’t know how long I’d been unconscious… minutes? Hours? My body didn’t know either. Every nerve was screaming, yet I was numb. My lips were cracked. My skin burned from silver. I could barely breathe, let alone move.

Then… Splash!

Ice-cold water slammed against my face.

I jerked, or tried to. My limbs refused to obey. A weak whimper escaped me, small, broken, like a wounded animal. My throat was too raw to scream anymore.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate. Echoing on stone.

Anton’s voice slithered out of the shadows like venom. “Hope you enjoyed your little nap, princess,” he sneered. “Because that’s the last one you’ll ever have.”

His boot tapped my chin upward. I couldn’t lift my head. Couldn’t fight. Could barely even hold onto consciousness. But I saw his face, smiling, satisfied, cruel.

He snapped his fingers. “Drag her out. It’s time.”

The guards closed in. I felt the tug of iron unhooking from the chains, the ripping of dried blood where my skin clung to the shackles. My knees hit the floor hard. I didn’t even cry out.

They gripped my arms… too hard. Laughed when I stumbled. One of them leaned close enough that I smelled meat on his breath.

“You’ll be fish food soon, murderer.”

“I didn’t…” My voice cracked, barely more than air. “Please… I didn’t kill him…”

No one listened.

No one cared.

They dragged me through the stone halls, through iron doors, and past flickering torches that blurred and doubled in my failing vision. Cold wind bit at my torn clothes. My feet scraped against gravel and broken earth as we neared the cliffs.

I lifted my head and momentarily stopped breathing. The pack was there. All of them.

Lined in silent rows beneath the pregnant moon, their faces blank, eyes fixed. The sea roared below us like a creature starving for blood. Wind howled through the trees like spirits crying my name.

And at the edge… stood him.

Julian.

My Julian.

His eyes were unreadable as he stepped forward, cloak whipping behind him, silver crown catching the moonlight like a blade. His expression was carved from stone, no trace of softness, of the man who once whispered promises into my skin.

“Julian…” I sobbed, stumbling toward him before the guards yanked me back.

He looked at me. But he didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t reach for me. He raised his voice, calm and cold.

“Ayla of House N’Kara… You are hereby found guilty of high treason and the murder of Alpha Rowan.” His gaze didn’t even flicker. “By decree of the council and the laws of the Pack, your punishment is death… by drowning.”

“No…” I choked. “Julian, look at me! You know I didn’t… please!”

Tears streamed down my face. My knees buckled. I crawled toward him, still bleeding, still pleading. “Tell them! Tell them we were together! All night… just minutes before… Julian, say something… say anything!”

He stepped back.

One step.

As if I were filth. As if I had never touched his heart. “I never saw her,” he said flatly. “Not that night. Not ever.”

Not ever.

The words cut deeper than any blade. The crowd whispered. Murmurs twisted into chants. “Traitor… liar… murderer…”

“Julian, please!” I screamed, voice finally breaking through the ache. “You know me. You held me. You said forever!”

But his eyes, those storm-gray eyes were empty. Then he stepped forward. My mate. My lover. The man who had whispered “forever” into my skin not even hours ago.

I stumbled toward him, pleading. “Julian… please. You know me. You held me. You said forever!” His eyes, once molten with warmth, were now frozen cold. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t reach for me. His voice cut through the night like a blade.

“I can’t have the murderer of my father as my mate.”

“So, I, Julian Kane, Alpha of Nytherra Clan, reject you, Ayla N’Kara, as my mate and Luna of this pack.”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Something ripped. Deep. Unseen. The bond between us tore apart in one violent lash, leaving a gaping wound in its wake.

I collapsed to my knees, gasping. The rejection seared through my soul… molten pain, raw and merciless. My heart burned, scorched by the venom of his words.

I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. Blood filled my mouth. I spat it out, trembling. “No…” I whispered. Each word a dagger.

“Julian…”

The man who was supposed to protect me… was now my prosecutor. Julian stepped closer, not to help, but to deliver the final blow.

“From now on,” he said, voice cold, unyielding, “you have no connection with this pack. You are nothing.”

My heart split in two.

Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to stand… broken, bleeding, but unbowed.

“I, Ayla N’Kara, accept the rejection of Julian Kane, Alpha of Nytherra Clan, as his mate and Luna.”

And just like that… it was done. The bond was severed. The love turned to ash. Then Darius’s voice rang out, commanding.

“Cast her over the cliffs.”

Then came the hands.

Two guards seized my arms, yanking them behind my back. They tied my wrists tightly with wolfsbane-laced rope, ignoring my cries. I fell to my knees, still begging, still praying to the man who had once made me feel whole.

“I didn’t kill him,” I whispered through tears. “I loved this pack. I loved you. I would have died for you, Julian…”

No answer.

The guards lifted me to my feet.

I turned, and saw him.

Darius.

My brother. His eyes locked on mine. But there was no pity in them. No hesitation. Only cold purpose.

The crowd parted as he approached. And it was his hands that pushed me over the Evergang’s edge. The final shove. The hands I once clutched as a child during our first moonshift.

The hands that used to dry my tears and carry me on his back. Now they only knew justice. Blind. Poisoned. Wrong. He didn’t say a word. Not even when I cried his name.

And as the sea opened its arms to devour me, it wasn’t Anton I thought of. Not even Julian.

It was him. Darius. My blood.

And the last thing I saw before the waters swallowed me…was his face.

Cold. Distant. As if I had never existed at all.