Chapter 3 - Acceptance

Alina's POV.

The dungeon refused to let me sleep. The stone floor was cold and rough, heavy with the weight of the unyielding cold biting into my skin whenever I tried to shift my weight to a more comfortable position.

The air was damp, heavy, and full of the smells of mold and old blood. Every sound echoed-dripping water, distant footsteps, and the slow scrape of rats searching for food.

But none of it kept me from sleep.

What held my eyes open throughout the night was Damon voice in my mind.

If you don’t go to them, you’ll die here.

All I have to do is say the word.

He said it seriously.

He would really do it.

A part of me hoped, foolishly, that Damon still had some drop of humanity, something that could make him think twice before completely destroying me. But it was clear the moment they shoved me into the cell: Damon didn’t consider me family, hell, he didn’t even consider me a person.

I was a problem.

A burden.

A tool.

And tools didn’t get mercy.

Outside my cell, the torch flickered as heavy footsteps approached. Not the rushed movements of guards, doing checks . This was slow, confident walking, someone who wanted to be heard.

Damon.

He stepped in front of the iron bars, fresh and well slept, as if he had not enjoyed the comfort of a warm bed and maybe the soft body of two or more ladies while I froze in the dark dungeon . The contrast made my throat tighten.

“Good morning,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “I bet you had lots of time to think.”

I didn't answer him.

Damon gripped the bars and leaned slightly. "I am going to ask you for the last time, Alina. Do you want to face the Lycan kings? Or should I call the council and tell them that we have a witch hiding in our pack?"

My fingers curled into fists.

I wanted to scream at him.

I wanted to fight.

But what good would it do?

No one would save me.

No one would stand up for me.

The pack had feared Damon since the day he took Father's seat. They would obey him blindly-even if it meant burning an innocent girl alive.

Last night, I had replayed every possibility, every direction my life could go. Running wasn't an option; Damon had guards everywhere. Fighting wouldn't work; I was weak, tired, and outnumbered. Staying here meant death.

Going to the Lycan kings… I didn't know what they would do to me. Maybe they would hurt me. Maybe they would use me. Maybe I would spend my entire life in a cage far worse than this one.

At least I'd be alive.

And as long as I was alive, there was always the chance-however small-to protect myself. To survive. To find a way to live.

I lifted my head and met Damon’s eyes.

His eyebrows lifted, awaiting.

"I'll go," I said, my voice steady even though my body wasn't. "I accept."

A satisfied smile curved on his lips. "Good. You finally understand what is best."

Not what was best. What he wanted.

With a snap of his fingers, two guards immediately rushed to unlock the cell. They grabbed my arms-not too roughly this time, but enough to remind me that I wouldn't be controlling anything here.

"Prepare her," said Damon, "the kings will be waiting for her soon."

They dragged me out of the dungeon up the narrow stone steps into the daylight above. Brightness smashed on my eyes. I blinked while the shapes finally took to forming: Trees, grass, the morning sky began to be that soft pale blue.

It felt odd to see beauty after passing a night in the dark.

They took me to the servant baths near the back of the palace. Women I had no idea who they were washed my skin with hot water to scrub off all dirt and smell of the dungeon. Another woman was busy brushing my hair and pulling out every knot until it fell down my back.

No one spoke.

No one met my eyes.

It was like they had to rush through cleaning me and touching me, some chore to get done and out of the way before the kings arrived.

After the bath, it simply dressed me in a basic cream sown. Nothing exceptional, nothing grand-honestly, just clean and modest. The soft fabric felt strange against my skin, as though I had no right to wear it.

They escorted me toward the front courtyard, where a small carriage stood waiting. Its wheels were muddy, and the horses looked restive, stamping their hooves against the ground as though sensing tension in the air.

My stomach twisted with every step closer I took.

This was it.

This was the carriage that would take me away from my home, away from the lands I grew up in, away from the life I once imagined for myself.

Before sunset, I would leave.

Before dawn tomorrow, I would belong to the twin kings.

My fate would have been sealed, traded like goods.

A guard opened the carriage door and prepared to shove me inside.

But before I could step my foot in, the sound of fast footsteps approached from the main gate.

Breathless, a messenger walked up to Damon. Damon stepped out of the carriage to meet him.

"What is it?" Damon demanded.

The messenger quickly bowed his head. "Alpha… just got in a message from the Crimson Lycan Empire."

Damon's expression shifted with curiosity. "And?"

"Both kings will be here to get their breeder themselves."