Chapter 7 Soraya

The stone cell was cold, but it wasn’t designed to keep prisoners comfortable.

It seeped through the cot, through my clothes, and me until my bones ached and my muscles stiff.

The shackle at my wrist chafed if I moved too far from the cot. Every so often boots passed in the corridor and then faded, I wondered if there was another prisoner down here.

Orielle paced inside me. She bumped against my ribs like as if trying to be let out. I told her to stop. We weren’t escaping.

Light under the cell door thinned. I dozed and woke with a jolt, heart running fast.

The guard’s keys jangled, and the bolt scraped. I sat up fast, thinking it was Lucien coming back to blame me again, and scooted until my back pressed to the cold stone wall.

The door opened.

An Elder stepped inside with two guards. His hair was white, his eyes sharp. They didn’t soften when they looked at me. I searched for Lucien, but he wasn’t there.

His order obviously meant nothing.

Orielle lifted her head, searching anyway.

But Lucien wasn’t there. The space behind them was empty, and my chest hollowed out with it. Why were these men here?

“Sit up straight.”

I did. The chain didn’t let me do much else. His eyes skimmed over me, sharp and cold. His mouth pressed thin, curling toward a sneer. His chin lifted just enough to look down on me, like I was something under his boot.

“Name.”

“Soraya Wane.”

“Age.”

“Eighteen.”

“Status.”

I knew what he wanted. “Unbonded,” I said. The word cut.

He didn’t open a book. Didn’t take notes.

“Pack?”

I froze. After the rejection, after running… was I still Silverpine, or already rogue? The silence stretched, and his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t know?” His voice held condescension. “Are you rejecting your pack, girl?”

The guards shifted behind him. My mouth opened and closed once before I forced the word out.

“Silverpine,” I forced out, the word catching in my throat.

“Takes some thinking, does it? To remember your own pack?”

Before I could explain, he just rolled on.

“You were present in the ballroom last night.”

“Yes.”

“Rejected in front of everyone. That must have stung…”

I held his eyes. “Yes.”

“By the heir.”

My hands fisted before I could stop them. He noticed and intentionally waited for me to answer.

“Yes.”

“His rejection pushed you to rage.”

“No!”

“You left by a service corridor.”

“Yes.”

“You fled Wane Hall before dawn.”

“Yes.”

“Where were you in between?”

“I sat at the fountain.”

His eyes bore into me. “Any witnesses?”

Hope flared when I remembered the footsteps, but then my shoulders slumped because I had no idea who they belonged to.

I knew in that single moment; my fate was sealed. “No.”

“Plenty of time to slip into the pack house and slip poison into the Alpha’s glass.”

“I didn’t do it. I swear.”

“Strange timing. You’re rejected; he dies; you run. Coincidence?”

“Yes!”

“Mm.” He stepped closer. “Why did you run?”

“Because I was humiliated,” I shot back. “Because people laughed. Because the heir—”

“Lucien Veyrac.”

“Yes! Him!” I cried as the emotion of that night washed over me, “I couldn’t stay after that.”

“And humiliation is cause for murder.” He flicked the word into the room and let it sit.

“I didn’t murder anyone.”

He said, calmly, like stating the weather. “A public betrayal. Make Lucien suffer by killing his father. Make the Pack suffer by killing their Alpha.

“No,” I demanded. “I just left.”

“Too proud to stay. Too proud to face your peers.”

“I wanted to disappear,” I said, raw.

He tipped his head. “So, you admit you ran.”

“I didn’t do it.” My voice thinned before I caught it. “I don’t know anything.”

He didn’t relent. “You fled because you were spurned. You sought humans because you thought you’d be safe among them. The Alpha is dead. And every trail points to you.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

He stepped close enough for me to see the veins by his nose and the twitch at his temple. “What did you gain,” he asked softly, “by leaving him fatherless?”

“I gained nothing.”

“Revenge is its own reward.”

“I didn’t think about revenge.”

“Yes.” His satisfaction threaded the word. He’d already decided. “You didn’t think.”

The sound of boots hit the corridor. A voice cut commands loud and sharp.

The door slammed open. Lucien filled it with two more guards flanking behind him. His eyes filled with rage.

The guards that came with the Elder snapped to attention, their eyes wary.

They fucked up and they knew it.

Alpha power filled the small room.

His eyes hit the guards, who shrank under his glare.  Then they flashed to the Elder, then me.

His wolf broke the surface, gold flashing through gray.

Orielle slammed against me; her wolf was here, struggling against me to break through and shift. The chain rattled. Heat charged the space between us.

The Elder saw it…wolves reaching for their mates.

“The bond still holds, even after a rejection,” he exclaimed with awe, as if this was a blessing not a curse. “The Luna cannot be executed.”

Lucien snapped toward him. “Get out.”

The Elder’s guards shuffled out fast, their boots scraping on the stone.

“This is Council business,” the Elder said. He stood his ground. His eyes flicked to me, then back to him. “You felt it same as I did. You can’t lie to the Luna.”

Lucien stepped in, “I told you. No one comes down here but me.”

“And I told you, Council business. We have every right to interrogate the prisoner.” the Elder said, “BUT, what I just witnessed cannot be denied.”

Gold flickered again. Lucien’s jaw clenched. His voice came cold.

“I have already chosen, Galdo. My mate is not some Wane.”

The Elder didn’t move. He stepped close, voice low. “You cannot break what the moon made.”

“I’ll take my chances. I’m stronger than that.” Lucien said, still not looking at me. “Find a way to break it.”

The Elder’s eyes closed once. When he opened them, dread sat heavy. “Better to send—”

“Break it,” Lucien said.

No one spoke; I just watched them.

Even Orielle stilled.

The Elder stared like he wished he hadn’t understood.

“You don’t know what you ask,” he said, voice cracking. “I’ve seen wolves go mad for less. Packs fall for less. If you force this, it could mean the end of Silverpine.”

Lucien glared at him. “You have your orders.”

“Keep your posts,” Lucien told the guards. “No one in. No one out.” His voice snagged on that last word. “Anyone. Anyone that breaks that order will be in a cell next to her.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

He left. The door shut.

The words stayed behind. The bond holds. The Luna cannot be executed.

Lucien’s words cut over them. Break it.

The Elder’s final warning echoed even louder: end of Silverpine.