"Kill her... kill her!"
The shout from the courtyard yanked Sofia awake. She hadn’t slept all night because her death kept flashing before her eyes, and just when exhaustion had nearly pulled her under, the pack’s furious cries ripped her back into reality. Through the pale light streaming in from the barred window, she knew dawn had co. Morning. The day of her execution.
The loud screech of tal made her flinch. The cell gate swung open, its hinges groaning. Two guards stepped inside, their grips rough as they yanked her to her feet.
"Get up," one barked.
Her knees wobbled, her body weak, but they didn’t care. They dragged her out of the cell and through the cold, narrow corridor. The closer they got to the courtyard, the louder the voices beca.
When they stepped outside, the sight made her chest tighten. Hundreds of wolves had gathered, their eyes locked on her with rage and disgust. The crowd’s roar shook the air as they chanted, "Kill her! Kill her!"
And then she saw it.
At the center of the courtyard stood a raised wooden platform. Upon it lay a heavy block, and beside it, the executioner—his massive fra cloaked in black, an axe gleaming in his hands.
Sofia’s breath caught in her throat.
This was it.
This was it. The end of everything she had ever dread of.
As the guards dragged her forward, her mind drifted. She thought of the little girl she once was—the girl who used to dream of being loved, of one day finding her mate and being cherished like in the stories she reads. She used to sneak into the woods at night, tilt her head back to the stars, and whisper to the Moon Goddess, asking if soone out there would ever see her as enough.
She thought of Damien. The boy she once believed was the answer to those prayers. She had dread of standing beside him when he beca Alpha, of being his Luna, not like this... not the girl hated and condemned to die under his rule.
Her chest ached. She had dread of a family, pups of her own, and laughter in a ho where she belonged. But now, the only sound waiting for her was the crowd chanting for her blood.
Her dreams had been simple. To be loved. To be seen. To live.
And now, every one of them would be buried here, on this stage, beneath the swing of an axe.
Her legs gave a weak tremble, but the guards yanked her forward. She wanted to cry... to plead... to tell them she was innocent, but she realized she had lost her voice, and it seed her tears had dried up, for not even a single tear dropped.
As she was being dragged forward, she forced her eyes up. In the front row, Lady Cara’s face was twisted with grief and hate. Her mother’s lips moved. She scread, louder than everyone else: "Kill her! Kill her now!"
Sofia’s chest froze. She looked at that woman and didn’t know what to feel. Was this really her mother? The woman who dressed her as a child, who had cherished her once? Now that woman wanted her dead. Sofia’s stomach dropped. She could not understand how the sa woman could love one daughter and want the other dead.
Her eyes slid to her father. Beta Stephen sat very still. His face looked empty, like a mask. He did not scream. He did not cry. He only watched. Sofia saw sothing inside his eyes—sothing like regret, like he did not know what to do. For a heartbeat she wondered if he might stand, speak, stop this. But he did not.
Sofia’s heart hamred. Her mouth was dry. She wanted to call out to him: Father, don’t let them do this. But no sound ca.
At the edge of the crowd, Damien stood tall. He watched her like a statue. His face was hard. His green eyes were emotionless. Sofia looked at him and felt every old mory rush in—the laughs, the training, the quiet monts.
The executioner stepped forward. He raised the axe and held it up so everyone could see the blade sparkle in the morning light.
Sofia swallowed. Her whole body trembled. She thought of all the things she had wanted in life—simple things—and how they would never happen now.
Sofia’s feet dragged against the wooden steps as the guards pulled her up onto the stage. The chanting of the crowd echoed in her ears like drums of death.
Damien’s eyes followed her every step. His jaw clenched, his fists tight. This was supposed to be justice, but why did it feel like his chest was being ripped apart?
This was justice, he told himself. She killed Lola. She deserves this.
But then Lucas, his wolf, howled inside him.
"Rember!" the wolf growled. "Rember the face you saw last night in the woods. The one who looked like Lola. Are you so blind you will let this happen? Fool! Think!"
Damien’s head snapped to the side for a mont. His mind replayed it—dark hair, a familiar fra, the way his heart had stopped when he thought he saw Lola getting into that car.
"No..." he whispered under his breath, shaking his head. His vision blurred for a heartbeat, and when he blinked, he could no longer see clearly. Her face was gone. He didn’t even know what was real anymore.
On the stage, one of the guards pulled out a black cloth and tied it tightly over Sofia’s face, covering her eyes. Darkness swallowed her world.
The judge stepped forward, his deep voice booming across the courtyard.
"Sofia Stephen. You have been found guilty of the cri of murdering your sister, Lola Stephen, by pushing her to her death. By the judgnt of this council and the law of the Full Moon Pack, you are sentenced to die."
Sofia’s knees buckled the mont they forced her down. Her body sagged like a ragdoll, trembling so badly the guards had to shove her into place. The cold stone bit into her skin, her cheek scraping against the rough grain of the block.
The executioner stepped closer, his axe glinting as he raised it high.
Sofia’s lungs burned as she drew one deep breath. She tried to rember sothing good, anything good, before her death. But every good mory—every laugh, every warm mont—was tied to Damien.
The boy who once promised to protect her.
The boy she had loved all her life.
"Do it," the judge commanded.
The axe shifted in the executioner’s hands. The crowd roared louder.
And then—
"STOP!"
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