Chapter 61

SARA

As the soldiers dragged me away, their rough hands bruising my skin, I felt a strange, quiet sense of contentment wash over me. For the first time since my world ended, I felt as if I had truly done something for myself. I had looked the monster in the eye and reminded him—and everyone who feared him—that he was made of flesh and bone, not just myth and terror. I was not just any girl whose life could be methodified or eroded by his whims. I had reclaimed my voice, even if it meant my body would pay the price.

I didn't know how she managed it, given the lockdown Tristan had ordered, but Paige and another woman were already waiting for me in the bowels of the dungeon long before I even reached my cell. They had returned me to my old quarters, the one with the familiar cracks in the stone.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, surprised to find her standing in the shadows of the corridor. "The Alpha was furious. You shouldn't be risking this."

"I took formal permission from the Alpha to visit and assess your state," Paige explained quickly as the guards retreated out of earshot. "He didn't trust that I would come without trying to smuggle you food, so he had Rita here follow me to ensure the rules were kept." She gestured to the woman beside her. "Sara, there are times when I genuinely wonder if you have a death wish, or if you simply don't understand the fire you're playing with."

"What would you have me do, Paige? Just lay down and wait for him to finish me off?" I argued, my voice raspy but firm. "This is not the ancient times when the Alpha's word was the only law and that was final. This is the twenty-first century. People have rights, even prisoners."

"Even though it is the twenty-first century, in this territory, the Alpha's word is still the absolute law," Paige countered, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and fear. "In all my years serving this pack, this is the first time I have ever seen an Alpha challenged so publicly. I've never seen Alpha Tristan this livid, nor the Alphas who came before him. You didn't just insult him; you humiliated him in front of his warriors."

"That's because the Alpha crossed an invisible line that simply shouldn't be crossed," Rita spoke up. She was the lady who had come with Paige to monitor her, and we both turned to look at her in surprise. She didn't look like a spy; she looked tired. "Why are both of you looking at me like that? Do you think I'm a statue?"

"Well, since you are here at the behest of the Alpha, one would naturally think you are entirely on his side," Paige argued, her brow furrowed.

"Nah, I'm on my own side. A concerned third party at best," Rita retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I’ve seen enough of Tristan’s 'discipline' to know where the rot is."

"Okay, then," Paige asked, stepping closer to the bars. "What invisible lines are you talking about?"

"I am a woman, and I believe I'd do the exact same thing Sara did if I were in her shoes," Rita explained, her voice steady. "Regardless of our creed, our beliefs, or our pack association, it doesn't change the fundamental fact that we all have a personal choice, especially concerning our own bodies. Just the way you cannot tell a man to sleep with a woman he's not sexually attracted to, you also can't force a woman to be a sex slave to a man she's not interested in. The rules shouldn't change just because he wears a crown."

Even Paige looked impressed by that. "Wow... just wow," she muttered. "I’ve never looked at it from that perspective. The tradition is so ingrained here." She turned back to me and gave me a subtle, quick wink. She had told me earlier that there were people within the pack who were deeply unhappy with what the Alpha was doing, and seeing Rita’s defiance, I was finally beginning to believe her.

"I think we should go now. We've been here long enough to arouse suspicion," Rita stated, her eyes darting toward the stairwell. She turned to me one last time. "Hang in there, Sara. The worst is almost over. The tide is turning."

They left me then, and it was only after the echoes of their footsteps faded that I became truly conscious of the reality of my cell. The stone walls of the deep cell were sweating—a cold, slick moisture that seemed to seep into my very bones.

Alpha Tristan had declared that I shouldn't be given a single scrap of food or a drop of water. Early the next day, I expected Yvonne to come and gloat, to revel in my misery as she usually did. But instead, it was a lady I’d never seen before—a stern-faced guard—who came and dragged me out to the fields. I was forced to work under the blistering sun until my palms were a mess of raw, bleeding blisters, and I was strictly forbidden from drinking even a sip of water.

By the second day, the dehydration was a physical ache in my brain. I summoned the last of my courage to speak. "I understand the point of punishment," I told the guard as we headed back to the cells. "If you want me dead, just give me a dagger and I'll happily take my own life to save you the trouble. But if you want the satisfaction of knowing you are punishing me, I think you’re going about it the wrong way."

"Hold on. What do you mean by that?" The guard asked, speaking to me for the first time in forty-eight hours.

"A person can go days, even weeks, without food," I told her, my voice cracking. "But they can't go two days without water while working in this heat. Water is life. I’ll drop dead of exhaustion and organ failure soon, and then no one wins. We'll all just be putting a premature end to this 'lesson'."

She didn't argue with me, likely because she saw the logic in it—or perhaps she saw the deathly pallor of my skin. She must have relayed my message to Tristan, because after that, they let me be. I was locked up in the pitch-black for the next two days. No light, no sound, and until tonight, no food. My stomach was a hollow, screaming void, a constant reminder that without my wolf, I was just a fragile human girl fading away in the damp and the dark.

Then, the heavy iron slot in the door slid open with a sharp clack.

Natalie crept in, her movements fluid and silent as a ghost. She didn't say a word, her eyes darting nervously toward the corridor as she set a bowl of thick, steaming broth and a hunk of crusty bread on the floor. It was strange and highly suspicious. Tristan had ordered me starved into submission. Was this a trick? A poisoned mercy designed to prolong the torture? Natalie was his former service, after all.

"Eat," she whispered, her voice barely a ghost of a breath. "You’ll need your strength for what’s coming. The winds are changing, Sara."

Before I could ask her what she meant or who had sent her, she was gone, the heavy door clicking shut and locking me back in the void. I ate the food in the dark, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was too far gone to care if it was poisoned; I needed the fuel.

As I ate, I felt the very atmosphere of the dungeon shifting. The air felt heavy, charged with the same crackling static that precedes a mountain storm. Then I heard it—a low, distant rumble of thunder, followed by the frantic drumming of rain against the high, tiny grate near the ceiling. But beneath the storm, there was something else. A scent.

It was strong, distinct, and heart-stoppingly familiar. It sliced through the rot and the scent of damp stone like a silver blade. It smelled of winter frost, dark cedar, and the sharp, electrifying tang of ozone.

Rune.

My heart didn't just race; it tried to claw its way out of my chest. A dizzying cocktail of sheer terror and a dark, vengeful triumph surged through my veins. He had come. Against all odds, the Conqueror had actually come for me.

The shadows at the end of the cell block seemed to thicken, then detach themselves from the wall. A massive, charcoal-black wolf emerged from the gloom, his fur matted with rain and his eyes glowing like dying embers. He moved with a terrifying, predatory grace, evading the patrols as if they were nothing more than shadows. With a low growl that vibrated in my very marrow, he began to shift. The sound of cracking bones and shifting muscle filled the small space.

Rune stood before my bars, his chest heaving, rain dripping from his dark hair onto his shoulders. He looked haunted, his face gaunt and his eyes wild. He looked like a man who had walked through the fires of hell and brought the flames back with him.

"Sara," he breathed, her name sounding like a jagged ruin in his throat.

With a sudden, violent burst of Alpha strength, he grabbed the iron bars. I watched in awe as he literally wrenched the cell door from its hinges, the screech of protesting metal echoing through the hall like a scream.

I stepped forward, my hands trembling uncontrollably. I wanted to run into his arms. I wanted to be carried away from this nightmare and never look back. But as he reached for me, a burning realization hit me like a physical blow to the stomach.

This is the man who killed my father. This is the Conqueror who destroyed my home and my people.

I froze mid-step, retreating back into the safety of the shadows.

"Sara? Why do you hesitate?" He stepped into the cell, his presence overwhelming and suffocatingly close. "I’ve spent every waking second of the last six months looking for a ghost. I lived in a grave, Sara. I sat in the dark and waited for the world to end because I thought you were ash and bone."

He reached out, his thumb grazing my cheek with a tenderness that felt entirely alien in this cold place. "I love you. I didn’t know I was capable of it—of this kind of visceral ache—until I thought you were gone forever. I’ve searched every territory, followed every whisper. I’m not here to take a prisoner, Sara. I’m here for you. Just you."

I looked at him, speechless. He was so... intentional. Every word, every look, was focused entirely on my existence. Tristan treated me like a trophy to be displayed or a stain to be scrubbed away, but Rune looked at me as if I were the only light left in a dying world. I had dreamt of this—of a hero breaking down the door to save me. But now that he was here, the blood of my family felt like an insurmountable wall between us.

"Do you... do you feel the same?" he asked, his voice low and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

I couldn't answer. The words were stuck in my throat, choked by the ghosts of my past and the trauma of my present. I didn't know if I loved him or if I just loved the intoxicating idea of no longer being Tristan's slave.

Rune didn't grow angry at my silence. He didn't demand my submission or growl for his rights as an Alpha. Instead, he took my hand gently and pressed it against his chest, right over his thundering heart.

"I understand," he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine. "I know the blood that lies between us. I know I am the monster in your story. But give me the opportunity to win your heart back, Sara. Let me prove to you that all men are not monsters like Tristan. Let me prove that you aren't a toy or a servant. You’re a queen, and it’s time you were treated like one."

The raw sincerity in his eyes was a lure I didn't know how to resist. For the first time in months, I didn't feel like a victim or a prisoner. I felt like a choice. And for a girl who had lost everything, having a choice was the most powerful thing in the world.