Chapter 37 BEGIN THE PROSECUTION
AVRIELLE'S POV
The first rays of the morning sun were nothing more than a cruel, pale streak across the horizon, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the car.
We had crossed back into the Northwood territory under the cover of the pre-dawn shadows, the transition marked only by the sudden, eerie smoothness of the road beneath us.
Beside me, Ivana was dead to the world, her mouth slightly agape as she leaned heavily against my shoulder. In her sleep, she didn’t look like the woman who had helped destroy my marriage; she just looked tired and small.
When she had first started dozing off, her head had lolled awkwardly, her neck snapping back with every bump in the road. I hadn't pushed her away. Instead, I’d reached out with a sigh and eased her head onto my shoulder, adjusting her weight so she’d be comfortable. It was a strange, hollow mercy—one I didn't fully understand myself.
In the front, the goldsmith was snoring, his precious bag of gold clutched to his chest like a lifeline. He was the key to everything, yet he looked so unremarkable in the morning light.
Liam had dropped off at the border checkpoint a few miles back, slipping out of the car as silently as a ghost to return to his post.
The driver remained at the wheel, his back straight, his eyes fixed on the road. He hadn't slept. Neither had I. I couldn't even dare to close my eyes. Every time I blinked, I saw the 24-hour clock in my head, the numbers bleeding away into nothingness.
"Can you... drop Ivana at her home first?" I stuttered. I didn't know his name, and calling him "driver" felt like an insult after what he’d done for us, yet "sir" felt too formal. I just hoped he got the hint.
"Affirmative," he replied. His voice was as flat and mechanical as ever.
I almost rolled my eyes but caught myself. I didn't have the energy for sass. Besides, Xavier wasn't here to buffer the tension if I annoyed his staff.
Xavier. He hadn't contacted me once. Not a single telepathic nudge, not a message through the driver—nothing.
A bitter taste filled my mouth. He was probably seething behind some marble pillar in the manor, or perhaps he truly hated me now for defying him so publicly.
The "Devil Alpha" didn't exactly have a reputation for patience.
'Trashy,' I thought, the word a small, rebellious spark in my mind. I bit my tongue, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to sharpen my focus.
We pulled into the driveway of the house that had once been mine. The familiar architecture felt like a slap in the face. I reached over and tapped Ivana’s shoulder.
"Ivana. Wake up."
She let out a long, loud yawn, and I instinctively wrinkled my nose. The smell of her early morning breath was pungent, and a ridiculous, frantic thought crossed my mind: Does my breath stink too? Did the driver also wrinkle his nose when I spoke to him just now? If I had to stand before Xavier and scream for justice with morning breath, I would actually die of embarrassment right there on the spot.
I pushed all thought back not wanting to add to my problems right now.
Ivana’s eyes fluttered open. The second she realized her head was resting on my shoulder, she jolted upright as if she’d been burned. She sat back against the door, coughing and smoothing her hair with frantic, clumsy fingers.
"You might want to step down," I said, swallowing back a tired laugh. "You're home."
She looked out the window, her gaze sweeping over the house as she pushed the door open. For a moment, I thought she would just leave, but she suddenly gripped the door handle and sat back down, slamming the door shut again.
"No," she said, her voice regaining its sharp, defensive edge. "I’m not getting down. I know what you’re trying to do, Avrielle. You’re trying to take all the credit for what we did. I was there. I risked my life too. I want to see Adrian. I want to be the one to save him."
I rolled my eyes. I didn't have the strength to argue with her narcissism. If she wanted to witness the madness, fine. I had a deadline that was currently screaming in my ears. And worst it was over--- the 24-hours I was given elasped already.
"Fine," I muttered, then turned toward the front. "Can you take us to the manor, please?"
The engine kicked to life almost immediately, and the driver made a sharp U-turn, heading toward the heart of the pack.
The trees began to blur again, but this time, the speed felt terrifying. My heart was racing, a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs.
Something felt wrong. The air felt charged, the silence of the morning too heavy, like the stillness before a lightning strike.
"Faster," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if I said it out loud.
When we finally skidded to a halt in front of the Alpha Manor, I didn't wait for the driver to open the door. I threw it open myself, stumbling out and practically dragging Ivana with me. I barely noticed the goldsmith scrambling out behind us, clutching his bag.
I rushed into the manor, my boots thundering on the marble. I went straight for Xavier’s room, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps. I pushed the door open—empty. I checked the bathroom, the study, every corner of his private wing.
Nothing.
The silence of the room was terrifying.
I swallowed hard, a cold knot of dread tightening in my stomach.
He wasn't here. Which meant the clock had run out.
"The dungeon," I hissed to myself, turning on my heel.
I ran back down the stairs, ignoring the startled looks from the household staff. I reached the heavy iron doors of the dungeon and pushed past the guards before they could even find their voices to protest.
I sprinted down the damp, torch-lit hallway toward Adrian’s cell. I skidded to a stop, my breath hitching in a painful, agonizing sob.
The cell was empty!
The straw was undisturbed, the shackles hanging uselessly against the stone wall. He was gone.
"Where is he?" I screamed, spinning around to face a guard who had followed me in. "Where is the man in that cell?"
The guard straightened, his expression stern and filled with disgust. "You mean the traitor, miss? He has been taken to the prosecution ground for final sentencing."
I stumbled backward, the stone wall cold against my spine.
No... no, no, no.
The 24 hours were over. Xavier hadn't waited. He was doing it. He was going to kill him.
I didn't think. I didn't breathe. I just ran.
I burst back out into the morning air. Ivana, the goldsmith, and the driver were still standing by the car, looking lost.
"Take me to the prosecution ground!" I yelled, my voice raw. "Now! Move!"
The driver didn't ask questions. He saw the sheer, unadulterated panic in my eyes and knew. We piled back into the car, and he hit the gas so hard the tires screamed in protest.
In the backseat, I was a mess. I was fidgeting with my fingers, picking at my cuticles until they bled, my heart hammering a frantic, desperate beat.
Please, Xavier.
Please don't do this.
Not like this.
We arrived at the prosecution grounds—a vast, stone-paved arena at the edge of the forest, used only for the most serious crimes. A massive crowd had already gathered, a sea of wolves standing in somber silence.
I threw myself out of the car before it had even fully stopped.
My head was banging, a dull, rhythmic throb that echoed the trauma of my own past. I had been in this place before. I had stood where Adrian was standing now, waiting for a blade that never came because of a miracle.
I began to shove my way through the crowd, my elbows sharp, my voice a frantic plea.
"Move!"
"Get out of my way!"
"Let me through!"
People grumbled, shoving back, but I was a woman possessed.
I tore through the ranks of the pack until I reached the very front, the inner circle where the high-ranking members stood.
There, in the center of the arena, was Adrian.
He was forced onto his knees, his hands bound behind his back. He looked broken, his head hanging low, his spirit already gone. And standing above him, looking like a god of winter and death, was Xavier.
Xavier’s face was a mask of absolute, terrifying stone. Beside him was the Executioner who held the traditional execution blade—a long, silver-edged weapon that caught the morning light with a lethal glint.
The crowd went silent.
The only sound was the wind whistling through the trees.
Xavier’s voice rang out, deep and filled with a command that made the very ground beneath my feet tremble. It was the voice of a judge who had already passed his sentence.
"Adrian of Northwood, you have been found guilty of treason against the crown and the pack. By the laws of our ancestors, the penalty is death."
He paused, his gaze scanning through the crowd and then it landed on mine.
"Begin the prosecution!" Xavier roared, staring intently into my eyes.
The executioner nodded and immediately the blade began its descent, a silver arc of finality aimed directly at Adrian’s exposed neck.
"STOP!!!"
I screamed the word with every ounce of air left in my lungs, the sound tearing through the arena like a thunderclap.
I broke past the final line of guards, stumbling onto the stone floor, my hand outstretched as if I could physically catch the steel.