C1

"Drink!" Lucas’s voice booms through the stone floor above my head. The crystal glasses clink together so hard I hear the sharp, clear ring down here in the dark.

Amanda’s high, fake laugh follows right after. "To justice!" she screams. The entire Silver Moon pack roars back in cheer.

I press my cheek against the freezing dungeon floor. My body shakes with every breath. The damp stone smells like iron, mold, and my own stale blood. Up there, they are drinking expensive wine. Down here, I am bleeding out in the dirt.

"Did you really think he would choose a nameless orphan over me?" Amanda had whispered in my ear this morning.

I close my eyes, but I cannot shut out the memory of eight hours ago. The courtyard was full. The entire pack stood in a wide circle under the bright morning sun. Lucas, my Alpha, my mate, stood at the top of the marble steps. His golden hair shone like a crown. His blue eyes, the same eyes that looked at me with burning heat just two nights ago, were colder than the ice on my skin right now.

"Cecelia," Lucas had said. His voice carried across the whole courtyard, boosted by his Alpha authority. It hit me like a physical blow. "You are weak. You are a traitor to this pack. You plotted with the Rogue King to poison our wells."

"I didn't!" I had tried to shout. My voice came out as a broken rasp. The silver chains around my wrists burned into my skin, smoke rising from my flesh. "Lucas, look at me! I would never hurt you! I love you!"

He did not even blink. He looked at me like I was a dead bug on his boot.

"I, Alpha Lucas of the Silver Moon Pack, reject you, Cecelia," he snapped. The words ripped through my chest like a jagged blade. My wolf inside me let out a high, painful howl, twisting in agony as the mate bond snapped in half. The pain was so strong my knees buckled, hard stone smashing against my joints. "I reject you as my mate, and I reject you as a member of this pack."

The crowd cheered. My own friends, people I had cooked for, people I had healed, screamed at me. They threw stones. One hit my forehead, tearing the skin open. Blood ran down into my left eye, turning the world red.

Amanda stepped up beside Lucas. She wiped a fake tear from her cheek, leaning her body against his arm. "She tried to kill me, Lucas," Amanda wept softly into his chest, her eyes cutting toward me with pure victory. "She was jealous because you loved me first."

"She will pay with her life," Lucas declared, placing a heavy hand on Amanda’s waist. "Throw her in the pit until sunset. Then, we burn the traitor."

They did not give me a trial. They did not let me speak. Every single crime they listed was a lie concocted by Amanda, but nobody cared about the truth. They wanted a scapegoat, and Amanda gave them one with a pretty ribbon on top.

Now, I lay on the cold stone, coughing hard. A sharp, burning pain erupts in my chest. I spit up a mouth full of thick, dark blood onto the floor. My ribs are cracked from the guard's iron boots when they dragged me down the stairs.

"Get up, trash," the guard, Thomas, had laughed as he kicked me into the cell. "The Alpha ordered no food and no water. Enjoy your last hours."

I cough again, my body spasms in pain. My wolf is barely conscious inside my mind. She is weak, battered by the broken mate bond, whimpering in the dark corners of my mind.

"Wake up," I whisper internally to my wolf. "Please, help me heal."

The wolf does not answer with strength. Instead, I feel a strange, warm pulse deep in my lower belly.

My hand moves on its own. I press my dirt-covered fingers against my lower stomach.

Another pulse. A faint, tiny flutter responds underneath my palm.

My breath hitches in my throat. My heart stops beating for a whole second.

"No," I whisper out loud to the empty dungeon. "No, no, no."

It cannot be. But the sensation is unmistakable. It is a tiny, second heartbeat, soft and fragile, wrapping itself in my remaining magic to stay safe from the cold.

The child is Lucas’s.

It happened three nights ago. The night before Amanda returned from her trip to the northern territory. Lucas had come to my small room near the pack house kitchens. He was exhausted, stressed from pack duties, and he pulled me into his arms like I was his only lifeline in a stormy sea.

"Cecelia," he had whispered into my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. His hands were possessive, gripping my waist, pulling me close until there was no air between us. "You are the only one who keeps me sane."

We didn't use protection. We didn't care. We were mates, connected by the Moon Goddess herself. I gave him everything that night. My body, my heart, my soul. He held me tight against his chest until dawn, kissing my hair, whispering that we would rule the pack together once he officially announced our bond.

Then Amanda came back the next morning. She brought fake letters, forged signatures, and poisoned herbs planted in my mattress. And in less than twelve hours, Lucas threw me away like garbage.

A single tear slips down my cheek, cutting a clean trail through the blood and dirt on my face.

It is not a tear of fear. It is a tear of pure, bitter devastation.

I am going to die tonight. They are going to tie me to a wooden stake and light the fire. My body will burn to ashes, and this tiny life inside me, this innocent little soul that has done nothing wrong, will burn right along with me.

Lucas will stand above the flames holding Amanda's hand. He will smile, thinking he cleared a traitor out of his pack. He will never know that he murdered his own child. He will never know that the woman he killed was carrying his heir.

My wolf tries to push a tiny bit of warmth toward my belly, trying to protect the fetus from the freezing temperature of the stone, but she is too weak. We are both dying.

"I am sorry," I whisper, pressing both hands over my stomach. "I am so sorry, little one. I couldn't protect you."

The laughter from above grows louder. A song starts up. The drums beat through the ceiling, vibrating through my ribs. They are celebrating my death before it even happens.

Heavy, iron-shod boots echo down the dark corridor outside my cell.

The sound grows closer, loud and slow. Torchlight flickers against the damp walls, casting long, evil shadows across the stone floor.

Key metal rattles against metal. The heavy lock turns with a loud, sharp snap.

The cell door swings open, creaking on rusted hinges. Two large guards step inside, holding heavy silver chains and long wooden torches.

Thomas steps forward, pointing a spear at my chest.

"It's time," Thomas says, his voice cold and devoid of any mercy. "The pyre is ready."