Chapter 123 I love you before the blade falls
IRIS
The doors slam open, and I’m dragged inside.
My knees scrape the stone as I hit the ground hard, the echo of the impact swallowed by the murmur of a crowd. My palms sting, my breath shudders. The air is thick with power, Lycan energy thrumming like a living thing. I lift my head just enough to see them. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. All watching me.
The throne room stretches wide and cruel, lined with dark marble and silver banners bearing the royal crest. Every gaze cuts through me like a blade. But I only see one person.
The Lycan King.
He sits on his throne, still and terrible, his eyes the color of frozen iron. The crowd bows their heads as if afraid to meet his gaze. I don’t move. I can’t. His attention lands on me, and I feel it like a weight pressing against my chest.
“Bring her forward,” he says.
The soldier yanks my arm, forcing me onto trembling legs. My knees lock just long enough for me to stumble toward the dais. The sound of chains scraping across the floor follows me. When I reach the base of the steps, I collapse again, gasping.
The King stands.
“I have been patient,” he says, his voice carrying easily across the room. “Patient beyond reason. And yet, chaos follows this girl wherever she goes.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd. Words like curse, prophecy, dangerous hiss at the edges of my hearing.
My throat burns. “Please…” My voice cracks. “I didn’t—”
“Silence.” The King’s command slams through the air. I flinch. Even the guards stiffen. “You’ve caused enough destruction with your existence. My son’s defiance. The unrest among the packs. The prophecy reawakening after centuries of peace.”
He steps down one stair. His boots strike the stone, deliberate and final.
“It ends tonight,” he says coldly. “You will finally leave this world, and balance will be restored.”
I freeze. My heart thrashes against my ribs, wild and desperate. He’s serious. There’s no hesitation, no mercy in his eyes. The realization hits like ice water.
This is real. I’m going to die.
“Your Majesty—” A voice tries to speak up somewhere in the crowd, but the King lifts a hand, and silence falls again.
He turns to a nearby soldier. “My sword.”
The guard obeys immediately, bowing before placing a gleaming silver blade in the King’s outstretched hand. The metal catches the torchlight, reflecting a cold shimmer that burns into my vision.
My stomach twists. The world narrows to the sound of my breathing, fast, uneven and I’m beyond terrified. My pulse hammers in my ears.
I should move. Run. Plead. Something. But my legs won’t obey. My whole body trembles as though the ground itself rejects me.
My mind splinters under the weight of panic.
I think of Daisy. Her smile. Her loyalty. I hope she’s far away and safe.
Then Darian. Always Darian. The heat of his hand when he pulled me out of danger. The way his voice can steady storms. I see him in flashes, the rare smile, the way he says my name like it means something sacred.
I want to see him again. Just once. To tell him what I should have told him long ago.
The King raises the sword.
The metal gleams like moonlight, and I can see my reflection in it; blood on my lips, eyes wide with fear. My chest tightens. I can’t breathe. Every instinct screams move, but my body is too heavy, my will drowned in terror.
“I—” My voice dies before it leaves my throat. I close my eyes instead.
If this is the end, I’ll face it without begging.
The air shifts.
Somewhere beyond the crowd, a voice breaks the silence like thunder.
“FATHER, STOP!”
Gasps ripple through the hall. My eyes snap open.
He’s here.
Darian stands at the end of the aisle, breathless, furious, radiant with barely restrained power. His coat is torn, his knuckles bloodied, eyes burning like wildfire. Three guards rush to intercept him, but he doesn’t stop, he shoves one aside with a growl that makes the room tremble.
The King’s jaw tightens. “Restrain him.”
“Don’t you dare,” Darian snarls. His voice cuts through the murmurs, low and dangerous. “Let her go. Now.”
The crowd recoils. No one dares speak. The guards hesitate—no one wants to be the one who touches the Lycan prince when he’s in this state.
The King’s expression doesn’t change. “You will stand down, Darian.”
“I said, let her go!” He moves again, and this time, the guards grab him. One at each arm, one at his shoulder. He thrashes against them, muscles straining, growl deepening.
The room fills with the sound of metal scraping stone as the soldiers brace themselves.
“Father, please,” he says, voice raw. “Don’t do this.”
The King’s gaze hardens. “You’ve already chosen your path, my son. Do not make me choose mine.”
“Listen to me!” Darian shouts, struggling, eyes locked on mine. “She is not the curse. You’re blinded by fear!”
“She’s the prophecy made flesh,” the King snaps. “Her blood will doom us all!”
“Then let it doom me,” Darian fires back. “Because I will not watch you kill her.”
Every word hits me like a physical blow. My chest aches. My throat tightens. I want to scream, to tell him to stop fighting, that I can’t stand seeing him like this—but my voice is gone.
The King turns back to me, lifting the sword again. “Enough of this. She dies now.”
“No!” Darian’s roar shakes the walls.
The guards struggle to hold him as his strength surges. His eyes flash gold, the wolf barely contained. The sight both terrifies and comforts me. He’s still fighting. Still trying.
The crowd begins to murmur again, fear spreading through the room like wildfire. The King raises his sword higher.
My heart stops.
He’s going to do it.
This is really happening.
The world slows. The sound of everything, the crowd, the guards, the heartbeat in my chest, fades into silence. All I can hear is Darian’s breathing. Rough. Desperate.
He’s still fighting against the guards, muscles straining, teeth bared. His eyes meet mine, and in them I see everything, anger, fear, love, helplessness.
Tears blur my vision. My lips tremble. I don’t want this to be my last sight of him, trapped, bleeding, powerless. I want him free. Alive. Whole.
“Please,” I whisper, voice shaking. “Please stop…”
The King ignores me. His grip tightens around the hilt. The silver blade glints in the torchlight.
The crowd gasps again as Darian breaks one arm free and slams his elbow into a guard’s jaw, but the others pile on, dragging him back to his knees.
He snarls, voice cracking with fury. “Don’t touch her!”
My heart shatters at the sound.
He’s fighting a battle he can’t win, and yet, he refuses to give up. For me.
I feel the tears spill over. Fear, love, grief all tangled into one unbearable knot.
The sword rises higher.
This is it.
I take a shaky breath, forcing my gaze to Darian. He’s still struggling, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with panic.
I want him to remember me not as the girl who broke him, but as the one who loved him. Even if it kills me.
“I love you,” I say softly.
The room goes still.
For a moment, even the King freezes. The words hang between us, raw and fragile. Darian’s body stiffens as if I’ve struck him.
His eyes find mine again. Everything in him, every ounce of power, rage, pain, goes quiet. His lips part. He shakes his head slowly.
“No, Iris,” he whispers.
A tear slides down his cheek, and I feel my heart crack in my chest.