Chapter 127: Dark Fate
Caelan pressed his lips to my forehead in a gentle kiss. "When you become my queen, you'll gradually learn the rules of this world. Not everything can be measured by ordinary werewolf moral standards."
His warmth and steady heartbeat gradually calmed my racing pulse, but I knew the shock and fear buried deep in my heart wouldn't disappear easily.
"I understand," I finally whispered. "I just need some time to adjust to all of this."
Caelan's arms tightened around me. "I'll give you all the time you need. But please remember—no matter how cold I appear to outsiders, with you, I'll always be gentle."
I leaned against his chest, trying to convince myself to believe those words. But my peripheral vision couldn't help drifting toward the figure suspended in the sky, still being tormented.
The torture stretched on for nearly an hour. Blair's agonized screams had long since faded to weak whimpers.
Caelan finally raised his hand in a decisive gesture. "Enough."
The helicopter made one final low pass, hurling Blair's nearly unconscious form heavily to the ground.
Blair lay motionless where she'd fallen. Blood covered her from head to toe, and her limbs twisted at unnatural angles.
Her golden hair had been stained dark red with blood. The wounds on her face made her almost unrecognizable.
The helicopter touched down and soldiers approached. They unlocked the chains from her wrists, letting her arms fall limply at obviously dislocated shoulders.
My medical instincts kicked in immediately. I took an involuntary step toward her, unable to ignore such severe injuries.
Caelan's hand caught my arm gently but firmly. "Don't go to her. She doesn't deserve your compassion."
"Is she still alive?" I asked quietly, noticing the faint rise and fall of her chest.
"Of course." Caelan's response was ice-cold. "I won't let her escape through death so easily. Death would be a mercy. I want her to live and suffer more."
He continued with ruthless calculation: "She'll remember every second of today. In the days to come, this memory will become her nightmare."
Another chill ran through me, but I forced myself to stay calm. I thought of all the harm Blair had caused Caelan and me.
"Have a doctor treat her injuries," Caelan commanded. "Don't let her die, but don't ease her pain either."
Several soldiers moved forward to lift Blair. As they prepared to carry her away, she barely managed to open her eyes. Through the rain, her gaze found mine across the distance.
Blair's lips trembled, forming soundless words. I read the shape: "I will kill you..."
The soldiers loaded her into a black military truck, covering her broken body with a waterproof tarp. The vehicle gradually disappeared into the rain.
"What happens to her next?" I asked Caelan.
"As I announced, she'll be exiled to the northern wastelands. That will be her 'home' until death comes for her."
"The northern wastes? What kind of place is that?" I pressed, curious about Blair's ultimate fate.
"It's our people's place of exile," Caelan explained. "A cursed land."
He began describing that terrible place in detail: "It's a region of perpetual snow where temperatures stay below negative twenty degrees year-round."
"No vegetation, no food. Nothing but endless wind, snow, and ice fields. Even the strongest werewolves rarely survive there longer than a few months."
I drew in a sharp breath. "Is it completely uninhabited?"
"Legend says that land was cursed by ancient evil spirits that devour all hope for life. Only exiled criminals are sent there."
Caelan continued grimly: "Besides the extreme environment, dangerous beasts roam there. They hunt and kill any living thing that enters their territory."
I tried to grasp the cruelty of this punishment. "So whether Blair survives depends entirely on her own will and luck?"
"Exactly," Caelan said. "This is a punishment crueler than death, because she'll have to struggle for survival in pain and isolation every single day."
"If she's strong enough, she might last a while. If her will breaks, the land will swallow her quickly."
"Either way, she'll spend the rest of her life in extreme suffering and despair."
I fell silent.
"We don't need to worry about her returning for revenge," Caelan added. "From that place, no one returns alive."
"It's over, Sabi. From now on, no one will threaten you again."
He glanced up at the heavy rain. "We should go back. You'll catch cold in weather like this."
Together, we walked toward the waiting car.
We finally made it back to my apartment. I showered first, then Caelan took his turn while I changed into my lavender silk pajamas.
Caelan had gradually moved most of his belongings here. Clothes filled half my closet now.
I'd worried initially about him having to drive an hour each way to the pack house every day, but he'd dismissed my concerns with that characteristic directness of his.
"I prefer it here," he'd said simply. "This feels like coming home."
And it did. Even the fifteen-minute commute to the hospital felt perfect. Everything about this arrangement worked.
I walked to the living room and settled onto the couch, tucking my legs beneath me. The remote was exactly where I'd left it on the coffee table. I clicked on the television.
A few minutes later, I heard the bathroom door open and Caelan's footsteps heading toward the kitchen. The coffee maker gurgled to life—he must have started it. The rich aroma began drifting toward me, mixing with the lingering scent of his shower gel.
A game show was playing on the screen, contestants excitedly answering trivia questions while the host offered encouraging commentary.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the stress of witnessing Blair's punishment finally begin to ebb away.
"Coffee's ready." Caelan's voice came from behind me.
I turned to see him approaching with two steaming mugs. He'd changed into a simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants.
"Thank you." I accepted my mug, immediately noticing the light dusting of cinnamon on top.
My heart gave a little skip. He remembered exactly how I liked my coffee.
He settled beside me on the couch. I shifted to curl against his side, my head finding its natural resting place against his chest.
His free arm came around me automatically, fingers threading through my still-damp hair.
"Better?" he asked quietly.
I nodded, feeling the last of the day's tension drain from my shoulders. "Much better."
We sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, watching the game show contestants celebrate a particularly difficult correct answer.
"Lucian," I said eventually, my fingers unconsciously tracing the fabric of his shirt. "Any word from your team?"