Chapter 9: Amelia

I dreamed of warmth and safety, of copper fur and freedom beneath a vast sky. Then reality crashed over me—literally—as ice water drenched my body, shocking me from unconsciousness with brutal efficiency. I gasped, choking as the freezing deluge filled my mouth and nostrils, my body convulsing against the concrete floor that had been my bed for... how many days now? I'd lost count in this windowless hell.

"Rise and shine, meat!" A guard's voice cut through the ringing in my ears, his tone festive, almost cheerful. "Today's the big day! Trials and executions, all in one entertaining package!"

I pushed myself to sitting, water streaming from my hair and down my face. The thin prison garments they'd finally given me clung to my skin, transparent and degrading. Around me, the four rogues were similarly drenched, cursing and sputtering as they came awake. The largest one—the leader who'd tried to attack me—glared at me through swollen eyes, his face still bearing the marks of our encounter. I met his stare without flinching. Let him try again. I'd do worse next time.

"Look at them," laughed the second guard, slapping his companion's shoulder. "Like drowned rats. The King's going to enjoy tearing this lot apart."

Cold dread settled in my stomach, heavier than the hunger that had become my constant companion. Execution. I'd heard them mention it before, but somehow it had seemed distant, theoretical. Now it had a timeline: today.

‘They will not touch you.’

The voice in my head was so sudden, so fierce that I physically startled. ‘Athena?’

‘I'm here.’ Her presence flooded my mind, stronger than I'd felt since our capture, a warm current of rage and determination cutting through the chill of my soaked body. ‘I've been gathering strength. Fighting the wolfsbane. These fools think they can judge us? Kill us? We will show them what happens to those who cage a wolf.’

Relief made my eyes sting with tears I refused to shed. ‘You've been gone so long. I thought—’

‘Never gone,’ she interrupted, her mental voice fierce with conviction. ‘Suppressed. Weakened. But never gone. I would never leave you, Amelia.’

The cell door clanged open, the sound reverberating off the concrete walls. Four guards entered, tasers raised, faces set in hard lines beneath their helmets.

"Against the wall, all of you," barked the one who appeared to be in charge. "Backs to me, hands behind your backs. Move!"

The rogues complied with sullen obedience, but I remained seated, water pooling beneath me on the concrete.

"You deaf, girl?" The guard took a menacing step toward me. "I said against the wall."

'Do as they say,’ Athena advised, though I felt her bristling with indignation. ‘We need to conserve strength. Pick our moment.’

Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet and turned to face the wall, placing my palms against the damp concrete. Cold metal closed around my wrists with a decisive click—silver cuffs that burned against my skin, sending waves of weakness through my limbs. I bit back a cry of pain, not willing to give them the satisfaction.

"Silver hurts, doesn't it?" The guard's breath was hot against my ear, his voice pitched low for my ears alone. "Almost as much as having your heart torn from your chest by the Alpha King. That's what happens to rogues who try to infiltrate the Royal City."

"I'm not—" I began, then stopped as the cuffs tightened painfully.

"Save it for your trial," he sneered. "Though 'trial' might be too generous a word for what's coming."

‘He enjoys this,’ Athena observed, disgust coloring her thoughts. ‘The power. The fear. When we're free, I'll remember his scent.’

The guard moved away from me, and I heard the metallic clicks as the rogues were similarly bound. One of them—the youngest, I thought—whimpered as the silver made contact with his flesh.

"Please," he begged. "I was just following orders. I didn't want—"

A meaty thud and a grunt of pain told me his pleas had been answered with a fist rather than mercy.

Rough hands gripped my upper arms, hauling me away from the wall and shoving me toward the cell door. My legs, weak from days of poor nutrition and the draining effect of the silver, threatened to buckle beneath me. Only pride kept me upright, one foot in front of the other as we were herded into the corridor.

Outside our cell, more prisoners waited—fifteen others in various states of dishevelment, all bound with silver, all wearing the same expression of dull resignation tinged with animal fear. Men and women of different ages, united by the desperation that had driven them to rogue status and the misfortune of being caught.

"Line up, single file," ordered a guard I hadn't seen before, his voice carrying the bored efficiency of routine. "Any disruption will be met with immediate correction."

We were arranged in groups, five per section. I found myself at the back of the final group, directly behind the leader of the rogues who had captured me. His massive shoulders blocked my view ahead, but I could feel his tension, the coiled rage that radiated from him like heat.

‘I can still access some of our strength,’ Athena murmured as we began moving down the corridor, a guard on either side of our procession. ‘The silver weakens but doesn't sever our connection. If there's an opening—’

‘To what end?’ I interrupted, keeping my expression blank despite our internal conversation. ‘We're outnumbered, bound, and surrounded by armed guards in the heart of the Alpha King's fortress. Even if we somehow escaped, where would we go?’

Her frustration simmered beneath my skin like a fever. ‘Anywhere but the execution chamber. I refuse to die caged and helpless.’

I couldn't argue with that sentiment. If death was inevitable, better to face it on our terms than kneeling before a king who didn't know me, judged by laws I'd never broken.

We marched through a maze of corridors, ascending from the basement levels into what must have been the main palace. The floors changed from bare concrete to polished stone, the lighting from harsh fluorescents to elegant wall sconces. Guards and staff stopped to watch our procession, their expressions ranging from curiosity to disgust to barely concealed excitement.

The leader of our group—a tall, uniformed man whose insignia marked him as a high-ranking security officer—finally called a halt outside a set of massive doors. Carved from what appeared to be ancient ironwood and reinforced with silver bands, they loomed over us like the entrance to another world.

‘The throne room,’ Athena whispered, her mental voice hushed with awe despite our circumstances. ‘Few wolves ever see it and live to describe it.’

We stood in silence, twenty condemned souls awaiting judgment. I could hear the murmur of voices from within, the rustle of movement, the occasional burst of laughter. They were preparing for a spectacle, and we were to be the entertainment.

The young rogue in front of me began to weep silently, tears tracking through the grime on his face. The massive leader stood rigid, his breathing slow and deliberate, perhaps making peace with his fate. Others muttered prayers or curses, their words blending into a low, desperate hum.

I closed my eyes, trying to center myself in this final moment before facing the Alpha King. If this was to be my last hour, I would meet it standing tall, with Athena's presence wrapped around my soul like armor.

‘Together,’ she whispered, fierce and determined.

‘Together,’ I agreed as the massive doors began to swing open, revealing the throne room beyond.