Chapter 38 SAVED A HEAD
AVRIELLE'S POV
The executioner didn’t even flinch. To him, I wasn’t the Alpha’s mate or a woman desperate to save a life; I was merely a noise—an interruption in a ritual of blood.
His muscles bunched, his eyes fixed on the nape of Adrian’s neck, and he swung the heavy broadsword backward, preparing for the final, clean arc that would end everything.
"STOP!"
The word was a thunderclap, but it didn't come from me.
It was a roar that vibrated through the very stones of the arena, carrying the weight of a mountain.
The executioner froze mid-swing, the momentum of the heavy steel dragging him slightly off balance.
But I was more unfortunate at this point. I had already lunged forward, my momentum carrying me into the center of the killing floor. My foot caught on an uneven stone, and I felt the world tilt. Gravity became my enemy. I tumbled forward, my hands scraping against the grit, my body sliding.
I stopped moving, but the air around me turned to ice. I realized with a sickening jolt that in my fall, I had landed directly over Adrian. My neck and head were positioned perfectly on the block, right where the blade was meant to fall.
Time slowed.
I could see the glint of the sun reflecting off the nicked edge of the executioner’s sword.
I closed my eyes, a single thought echoing in my mind: So this is how it ends. Not with a scream, but with a stumble.
My life didn't flash before my eyes in a grand montage; instead, I just felt a profound, aching regret that I hadn't been faster.
Suddenly, the world shifted.
A pair of hands, hard as iron and radiating a heat that felt like a furnace, wrapped around my waist. I was yanked backward, my body lifted off the cold stone as if I weighed nothing. That familiar, intoxicating scent engulfed me immediately, anchoring me to reality.
I breathed in, my lungs burning, and slowly opened my eyes.
Xavier was staring down at me. His face was a mask of absolute, terrifying neutrality. Not anger. Not relief. Just a blank, porcelain wall that told me nothing of what was happening behind those icy eyes.
I swallowed, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped animal. I forced myself to stand, stepping back exactly one foot to put some space between us.
My skin was still tingling from his touch, but my pride was waking up, fueled by the adrenaline and the sheer terror of the last few minutes.
I brushed the dirt from my hands, my chin tilting up in a gesture of defiance I didn't truly feel. "Why didn't you wait for me?" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "Must you always prove you’re the devil? That you don't have a heart?"
I reached out, my hand moving before I could stop it. I pressed my ring finger against his chest, right over the place where a human heart would beat. It felt like pressing against solid granite.
Xavier didn't reply. He didn't move. He didn't even seem to breathe.
Then, I felt something warm and wet hit my leg.
I frowned, looking down. A dark red droplet was soaking into the fabric of my dress. Then another. My gaze traveled upward, following the trail of red, and I froze.
Xavier’s hand was extended, his fingers clamped tightly around the raw edge of the executioner’s blade. He wasn't just holding it; he was crushing it.
I watched in horrific fascination as the silver steel began to groan, bending and warping under the sheer pressure of his grip.
The blade was slicing deep into his palm, the blood flowing freely, staining his cuff and dripping onto the stone floor. He was turning the weapon into scrap metal with his bare hands.
"Have you gone nuts?!" I screamed, the horror finally breaking through my shell.
I grabbed his wrist, my fingers slick with his blood. I didn't care about the protocol or the crowd of hundreds watching us. I used both hands, forcibly prying his fingers away from the jagged metal--- which I obviously knew he let me do. The ruined sword fell to the floor with a heavy, hollow thud.
Staring at his mangled palm made my stomach flip and my heart ache with a physical, stabbing pain. It was a gruesome sight—the kind of wound that would have made anyone else scream, yet he hadn't even flinched. Before I could stop them, tears were already brimming, hot and thick, at the corners of my eyes.
I tried to blink them back, but one escaped, rolling down my cheek.
Xavier reached out with his other hand, his thumb catching the tear and wiping it away with a gentleness that felt like a betrayal of his cold exterior.
"You really do know how to throw a fit," he muttered, his voice a low, private vibration only for me. "But a blunt reminder, Avrielle... Adrian is watching."
Those words were like a dousing of cold water. I jolted out of the emotional fog, my head snapping around.
The entire pack was staring. Some were whispering behind their hands, their eyes wide with scandal; others were just bewildered, watching their terrifying Alpha bleed for the woman who had just interrupted his justice.
I let go of his hand immediately, stepping back and stammering. "I... I..." Trying to piece some words together.
Xavier didn't give me a chance to finish. He turned away, his cape swirling behind him, and headed back to his elevated seat. He sat down with a slow, deliberate grace, resting his bleeding hand on the armrest as if it were a minor inconvenience.
He turned his gaze to the executioner, who was standing awkwardly with the ruined piece of metal at his feet.
"Get a new blade," Xavier commanded.
The executioner nodded quickly, his face pale, and hurried off into the crowd to fetch another weapon.
I stood in the center of the arena, feeling utterly exposed.
Xavier’s gaze returned to me, fixed and unblinking. The blankness was back, but there was an edge to it now—a sharpness that made my skin prickle.
"Your twenty-four-hour ultimatum is over," he said. His voice was devoid of warmth, stripped of the low, gravelly intimacy he had used moments ago. It was the tone of a judge, cold and distant.
It had been a month since he had spoken to me like this, and the sudden shift made my chest tighten for a reason I couldn't fathom. "You're already late."
He leaned forward slightly, the movement predatory. "Present your proof. And it had better be solid. Do not waste my time further."
I felt the eyes of the pack boring into me. The silence was absolute, a heavy pressure waiting for me to speak. I looked back toward the edge of the arena, where the car was parked. I could see Ivana standing there, and beside her, the goldsmith, looking like he wanted to bolt back to the rogue lands.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. I had the truth in a bag held by a greedy man, and I had the weight of the Alpha’s judgment pressing down on me.
"The proof is here," I said, my voice finally finding its strength. I turned toward the crowd, pointing toward the man in the soot-stained tunic. "Bring him forward."