Chapter 45 The Execution
Aurelia
I still didn’t know what Zhayad planned to do to Mace. The thought kept circling in my head like a hawk, but every time I tried to ask, the words stuck in my throat.
Because what really had me reeling, what kept my mind spinning long after the bedroom door closed, was how calm he’d been.
Not calm like he didn’t care, I mean, calm like the news that my bloodline carried a curse placed on it by his own kind didn’t faze him at all.
He hadn’t exploded or refilled. He hadn’t even looked at me like I was suddenly something dangerous or unclean.
And that baffled me more than anything. Because he was an Alpha. His entire existence revolved around legacy, lineage, heirs. Every Alpha needed pups, strong, shifter ones who could carry the bloodline forward.
So why wasn’t he angry? Why wasn’t he pacing, demanding answers, questioning whether I could even give him what the pack expected?
Was it possible… that he actually liked me?
Enough to not care?
The thought felt ridiculous even as it bloomed in my chest. Because liking someone wasn’t the same as wanting them to carry your future.
And I’d spent too many years being told I was defective to believe anyone could want me without conditions.
The door burst open so hard it bounced off the wall. I sprang off the bed, half-expecting Zhayad, expecting that familiar storm of pine and smoke and barely-leashed power.
But it was only a shifter-maid. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide like she’d run the whole way here.
“Everyone’s gathering at the old execution square,” she said, breathless. “You’re supposed to be there, by the Alpha’s side, while he executes the prisoner. Quick, follow me.”
She grabbed my wrist and started pulling before I could even process the words.
I yanked back instinctively, but her grip was surprisingly strong.
“Executes what prisoner?” I demanded, stumbling after her as she dragged me toward the door.
“What’s going on? What are you talking about?”
She didn’t slow down, didn’t even glance back properly.
“The warlock who led the group that kidnapped Irina is to be killed publicly,” she said over her shoulder to give me a hard look. “Your presence is necessary.”
They were going to kill Mace, right now, in front of the whole pack?
I tried to dig my heels in.
“I need to talk to the Alpha. He can’t kill him!”
The maid made a small, disappointed sound, like I was being childish.
“Of course. I heard you were supposed to end up with him when you were younger. You obviously still have a soft spot for him after he tried to kill our lovely Irina.” She spat the words out like an accusation.
I couldn't give a response to that foolish statement because the noise outside overwhelmed me instantly.
Outside, the massive gates stood wide open.
Shifters streamed through in thick crowds, warriors, maids, elders, young ones, all heading in the same direction.
The air buzzed with low murmurs and the shuffle of hundreds of feet on the smooth tiled floor.
People parted when they saw me coming. Their whispers followed me as the shifter-maid dragged me around like a doll.
How could Zhayad be executing Mace when Irina had been in on it?
When Mace’s confession had just cracked open everything? Then I saw the platform. No, not just a platform.
It was a throne. Onyx black, carved with sharp gold lines that caught the torchlight like veins of fire.
It sat dead center on a raised stone dais at the far end of the platform they'd set up to execute Mace.
He sat on the throne like it had been made for him, legs spread, with his forearms resting on the carved arms, every line of him radiating quiet, lethal command.
He was shirtless, revealing new silver-black marks on his chest and arms that glowed faintly in the torchlight, matching the ones I’d seen on his cock earlier. When had he gotten these new ones? How?
His hair was still wild, his jaw shadowed with stubble, eyes scanning the growing crowd with the cold focus of a predator deciding who lived and who didn’t.
Suddenly his eyes locked on mine. The wild green softened, just for a second, like the storm inside him had found a quiet place to rest.
I felt it in my chest, that tiny thaw, and it made my knees feel even weaker than before.
The crowd roared, thirsty for Mace's blood. I tore my gaze away from Zhayad and turned my head.
Mace was being led out. They’d tied him to a tall stake-like cross, his wrists bound high above his head with thick silver chains that bit into his skin.
The metal gleamed and dulled occasionally, designed to burn warlock flesh just enough to keep magic locked down.
He couldn’t move his hands or weave a spell, couldn’t do anything but stand there while the pack screamed for his blood.
“Kill him! Kill him!” The chant rolled like a deep wave, rhythmic, growing louder with every heartbeat.
The shifter-maid paused beside me, then gave my arm a sharp nudge toward the throne.
“Go and stand beside him,” she said, her voice clipped and impatient.
I looked around, at the sea of faces, at the narrowed eyes, at the way people parted when I moved like I carried something contagious.
Then my gaze landed on the throne itself, the onyx black, gold carvings curling around the arms and back like thorns and crescent moons.
It looked ancient, cruel and beautiful in the way things that kill are sometimes beautiful.
Ravina marched out seconds later, carrying a keg of what I imagined was gasoline. They were going to set Mace ablaze? In this time and era?
She stopped behind Mace's stake and began to speak.
“I stand here today, not as Irina's mother but as the hand of justice for this pack.” Her voice was thick and carried weight, the soft breeze carrying it across to those at the back.
I couldn't resist the snort that escaped my throat. Hand of justice my fat ass. I needed to find a way to stop this madness before it escalated. But I just didn't know how.
“Cassian Varkis is no doubt one of OnyxFang’s longstanding enemy. He despised our kind deeply, even though his wi….” She caught herself quickly, stopping just in time to switch to: “his daughter is mated to our Alpha. He tried to kidnap our own, crossing the borders and trespassing on our territory. The ultimate punishment is death by burning, because he is a warlock.”
Everywhere was dead silent, I could hear my own heartbeat.
“Burn him!” Someone from the crowd shouted.
More people joined him, raising their fists and turning it into a chant.
Mace looked unfazed, like this happened everyday. But I saw the disbelief in his eyes. Ravina and Irina, with whom he'd conspired, were the ones now offering him up like a sacrifice, a burnt offering.
Ravina opened the keg and lifted it.
I opened my mouth to scream a loud NO, but another voice was already doing it.
Irina was running for the stake, her white dress billowing behind her.
“Stoooooop!” She yelled, holding out her hand.