Chapter 142 WORTHWHILE CHALLENGE

Chapter 142 WORTHWHILE CHALLENGE
MERRIELYNN.

They dragged me out of the cell and into blinding sunlight.
The brightness hit me like asiren after hours in the darkness. I couldn’t see orprocess what was happening.
I stumbled and would have fallen if the guards on either side of me hadn’t been gripping my arms hard enough to leave bruises.
They hauled me forward when my legs refused to work properly.
Then the noisesank into me from all directions.
It started as this dull roar that I couldn’t make sense of. My vision was still adjusting, everything washed out in white light, but the sounds kept growing. Getting louder. Closer.
Then my eyes finally focused and I saw them.
People.
Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Packed into what I realized was the main palace square, filling every available space. Standing shoulder to shoulder. Craning their necks to see.
To see me.
My stomach dropped straight through the floor.
In the center of the square, they’d built a scaffold. Rough wooden steps leading up to a raised platform. And in the middle of that platform sat a block.
An execution block.
The wood was dark and stained. Like it had been used before. It was so historical and grotesque looking that my stomach roiled in on itself.
My legs gave out completely.
The guards caught me before I hit the ground and forced me to keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Up the steps. Each one feeling impossible to climb. Across the platform while thousands of eyes burned into me from every direction.
They shoved me down onto my knees in front of the block.
The wood was rough under my knees. Cold despite the sun beating down on us.
I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like someone was sitting on it.
This was real.
This was actually happening.
In a few minutes I was going to die and all these people were going to watch.
The crowd’s noise swelled to this deafening pitch. Then it cut off abruptly as a figure appeared on the platform.
King Killian.
He looked every inch the powerful monarch today. He was dressed in full royal regalia with his crown sitting on his head and formal robes that probably cost more than most of these people would see in their entire lives. His presence commanded attention without him having to say a word.
He walked to the center of the platform and raised his hands.
The silence that fell was immediate and absolute. Thousands of people going completely quiet all at once.
“Citizens of the realm,” his voice boomed out across the square. He didn’t need any kind of amplification. His lycan presence carried his words to every corner, making sure everyone could hear. “We are gathered here today to witness justice being served.”
I stared at the wooden planks beneath my knees. I couldn’t look at him or the crowd.
“Three years ago,” he continued, his voice ringing with authority, “my daughter, Princess Lorelai, was taken from us. A tragic accident that extinguished a bright light far too soon. The entire realm mourned her loss. Our family was devastated. And we believed that the person responsible for her death had already paid the ultimate price for their crime.”
I could feel the weight of every single eye in that crowd settling on me now. The attention was suffocating.
“Otto Fortner, the former Beta of this realm, stepped forward and took responsibility for that accident,” the King said. “He claimed that he was at fault. That his negligence and poor judgment led directly to the princess’s death. And he was executed for that crime, as the law demanded.”
My chest felt like it was being crushed.
“But it was a lie,” the King’s voice turned sharp and cold. “Otto Fortner was not responsible for Princess Lorelai’s death. He was a devoted servant who sacrificed himself to protect the true perpetrator. His daughter.”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd like a wave.
“The girl kneeling before you now,” he gestured toward me without looking at me, “is Merrielynn Fortner. Former ward of the palace. Former friend to the royal family. And she is the one who killed Princess Lorelai.”
The crowd erupted intoa riot. Shouts of anger. Demands for justice. Curses and threats that I couldn’t quite make out over the general roar.
I said nothing. I didn’t move or try to defend myself or explain.
What would be the point?
I wouldn’t win this. Not against a king and an entire realm that had already decided I was guilty.
I closed my eyes and tried to transport myself somewhere else. Anywhere else. Back to yesterday morning on the couch with Cormac. Wrapped up in that blanket with his arm around me and nothing else in the world mattering.
Goddess, that felt like it had happened in another lifetime.
“And that is not her only crime,” the King’s voice cut through my thoughts. The crowd had quieted down again, hanging on his every word. “Just days ago, Merrielynn Fortner was directly involved in the death of another young wolf. Valtor Bronxe, the Alpha heir to the Bronxe wolves. Another promising life cut short. Another family destroyed by her continued recklessness and disregard for the lives of others.”
I forced my eyes open just enough to scan the front row of the crowd.
A man stood dead center with the best view of the scaffold, sitting in the designated section with the other high ranking families of the realm.
He was older, probably in his fifties, with broad shoulders and the same dark hair Valtor had inherited.
His eyes were locked on me with such pure, concentrated hatred that I felt it like a punch to the gut.
Valtor’s father.
The Alpha of the Bronxe wolves.
He looked like he wanted to tear me apart with his bare hands. Like the only thing keeping him from jumping onto this platform right now was the thin veneer of civilized society.
“I made a promise to Alpha Bronxe,” the King said, and his voice was tense.“I promised him that there would be retribution for his son’s death. That the one responsible would face justice. And today, that promise will be fulfilled.”
I let myself look at the rest of the crowd then. Really look at all those faces staring back at me.
All I saw was hatred. Cold judgment. Righteous anger. Not a single sympathetic expression in the entire sea of people. Not one person who looked like they thought maybe this was wrong. Maybe this was too far.
They all wanted me dead.
Every single one of them.
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I closed my eyes again, trying to block them all out. Trying to find some small space in my head where I could retreat to and wait for this to be over.
“Where are you, Cormac?” I whispered. The words were so quiet they were barely even a breath. No one could possibly hear me over the noise of the crowd.
But I needed to say them anyway. I needed to reach for him even though I knew he couldn’t reach back.
“This execution will serve as a reminder to all,” the King was saying, his voice carrying across the square with that commanding authority. “That no one is above the law in this realm. Not even those who were once welcomed into the royal household. Justice will be served. Blood will answer for blood, as our laws demand.”
He paused, lettingthe weight of his words settle over the crowd like a heavy blanket.
Then he spoke again,“Are there any who would speak against this sentence? Any who would object to justice being carried out?”
The silence that followed was so complete I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
No one moved. No one spoke. The thousands of people packed into the square just stood there in absolute silence.
I kept my eyes closed and waited for the inevitable. For the executioner to step forward and for this nightmare to finally be over.
“Very well—”
“I object.”
My eyes flew open so fast it made my head spin.
That voice. I knew that voice better than I knew my own.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought they might crack. Heat suddenly flared underneath my skin, spreading outward from my chest. The bond between us blazed to life like someone had just poured gasoline on smoldering coals. It pulled at me, tugging me toward him with this overwhelming force.
I searched the crowd frantically, my eyes darting from face to face, trying to find him.
There.
At the base of the scaffold steps.
Cormac was climbing up onto the platform, and he looked absolutely furious. He was dressed entirely in black like he was going to a funeral.
His jaw was set in this hard line.
His green eyes were blazing with an intensity I’d never seen before as they locked onto his father and didn’t waver.
The crowd had gone completely silent again. Everyone was staring at him. Thousands of people holding their collective breath.
He reached the top of the platform and stood there. Tall and proud and radiating barely contained violence.
His voice rang out across the square, carrying to every corner just like his father’s had. “And I challenge you to a duel for your title as King.”