Chapter Four

Freda’s P.O.V

I stared at the dungeon ceiling, letting the stench of stale urine settle around me. I didn’t bother covering my nose. What was the point? This place was meant to break me—and it was working.

It was over.

This was my end.

My heart twisted as Adrian’s face flashed in my mind, the cold finality in his eyes cutting deeper than any blade. He didn’t want me. He didn’t even want to hear me. The bond we shared—everything I believed in—meant nothing to him anymore.

He had been my hope.

My refuge.

My future.

And now, I had nothing.

The silence curled around me, loud and suffocating. It screamed how utterly alone I was.

The guards, the Elders, the pack members—every single one of them had looked at me for as long as they cared to before leaving. They probably went home to warm beds and warmer families while I rotted in chains.

The ones I called my family didn’t even come. Not my father. Not my mother. I wasn’t worth their time, or their pity.

With no strength and nowhere to run, I lay still, counting the slow minutes until morning. Adrian had announced my execution. At dawn, my life would end. There was nothing to fight with, no one to fight for me, and no miracle left to hope for.

I didn’t want to die.

But what choice did I have?

I was powerless against my pack—against all of them.

A pulse of pain throbbed through the mark on my leg. My fingers drifted to it, scratching, peeling, desperate for anything to distract me from the ache inside my chest.

That mark ruined everything.

That mark doomed me.

That mark made Adrian turn his back on me.

It was the reason I was here.

The reason my mate rejected me.

The reason I was about to die.

“Freda,” a voice whispered.

My eyes snapped open. I pushed myself up, scanning the room, but the dungeon door remained firmly shut. No guard stood watch. No shadow shifted.

“Freda,” the voice called again—soft, close, familiar.

I frowned, searching for a figure, a face, a trace of anyone who might’ve stayed behind to torment me.

But there was no one.

Minutes stretched into silence. Eventually, exhaustion dragged me under, even though I swore I wouldn’t sleep.

A cold breeze brushed my skin, raising goosebumps. I pulled my dirty blue dress closer, a shiver running down my spine as the reality of my execution returned. Any moment now, they would come to drag me out like a wild animal.

The dungeon door creaked open.

The same guards who had dragged me here stepped inside. They didn’t speak. They didn’t hesitate. They simply pulled me up as if I were weightless and hauled me out of the dungeon.

Whispers followed us through the hallway—soft, sharp, cruel.

When we reached the hall, they dropped me to the floor like discarded cloth.

The sight stole the little breath I had left.

Blue and white ribbons draped every corner—my wedding colors. Balloons spelled out Forever, Together. The decorations I had chosen with hope in my heart now mocked me.

I tore my gaze away, refusing to let it break me further. My eyes scanned the crowd instead… and landed on Mother and Father.

For a moment, our gazes locked.

Then, they looked away.

As if I were a stranger.

As if I were already dead.

I looked away, too.

Alpha Ron, Adrian’s father, sat at the head of the hall, his face carved in stone. His glare cut through me like a blade. When he rose to his feet, the murmurs died down just enough for his voice to thunder across the room.

“In the spirit of celebration,” he announced, “there will be no execution today.”

A ripple of noise exploded through the hall—gasps, whispers, relief mingling with outrage. My heart stuttered in my chest.

No execution?

Was I… spared?

Hope fluttered—weak, trembling, foolish.

Alpha Ron lifted his hand, and silence swallowed the room instantly.

“Instead,” he continued, each word dropping like a hammer, “she will be sold… to the highest bidding guest.”

The world tilted.

Sold?

My breath caught.

My skin crawled.

A fresh wave of murmurs surged through the hall—excited, greedy, amused. I saw eyes shift—evaluating me, measuring my worth like cattle.

My stomach knotted so violently I almost retched. I would rather die than be sold. Execution suddenly seemed merciful compared to whatever fate waited for me in the hands of a stranger.

Alpha Ron turned his eyes on me again, cold and dismissive.

“You are no longer a member of the Sun Blood Pack,” he said. “You are an asset to dispose of.”

Laughter broke out somewhere in the crowd. Someone even clapped.

I clenched my fingers into my dress, fighting the sting in my eyes. I wouldn’t cry—not in front of them. Not for them.

But my voice… my voice failed me completely.

Because this was worse than death.

This was erasure.

Humiliation.

Ownership.

I scanned the hall, searching for Adrian, for the man who once held me as if I were his world.

He was there.

Standing beside Nina.

Expression unreadable… except for the guilt flickering behind his eyes.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t object.

He didn’t say anything.

He just let them sell his mate.