Chapter 22

In the heart of the dense forest, a chilling assembly of Eric and his men gathered at the center of the abandoned fortress, their camp.

Eric’s eyes gleamed with a ruthless determination that matched the sharpness of the silver daggers that adorned his belt. His words sliced through the stillness of the night like a cold wind.

“In less than four hours, we strike. The wolf princess is getting married in the palace this morning.” Eric's voice rang out, his tone laced with an icy edge. “We'll use the wedding as a trap. The moment those wolves gather to celebrate, we'll ensnare them within their own palace walls.”

Fiona’s heart was beating fiercely against her rib cage. Kane was captured, they’d heard. The princess was marrying the king’s beta. Kane’s execution had been the talk of the town for the past two days. Dressed as a normal villager, Fiona had managed to infiltrate the town’s market just to see if there was any news. To her displeasure, she’d found out that Kane was going to be executed just an hour before the wedding was to take place. After which Eric planned to wipe out the entire kingdom once they gathered for the celebration.

The men around him exchanged grim nods, their faces obscured by rugged masks. They carried an arsenal of weapons, from silver-tipped arrows to traps designed to maim and kill. The smell of damp earth and freshly felled timber lingered in the air, blending with the acrid scent of malice that hung like a shroud over the assembly.

Fiona could barely keep the contents of her stomach down.

How had she gotten involved with such a cruel team? Did no one care that children, teenagers and adults would die if they went ahead with this insanity? How were they different from the rogue wolves they had sworn to kill?

“Fiona,” Eric suddenly called out. She met his gaze, wondering if he saw through her calm façade to the uncertainly that was welling up inside her.

“Yes?”

His eyes gleamed. “Are you with us or against us?”

Her chest heaved. This was not what she wanted. Kane was about to die. The entire Blue Hound kingdom would perish. Where was their conscience? Did they even have one?

But she could not go against him. Not now, not here. Eric was not above killing her if she proved to be an obstacle in his terribly thought-out plan. Everyone was staring at her. She could not possibly take them all.

Nodding, she said, “I am. With you, I mean.”

There was silence for a few minutes before Eric nodded back. “I knew you’d make the right choice,” he said to her before looking to the team. “For the love of the hunters!”

The men and women cheered, all raising their fists. “For the love of the hunters!”

*****

The palace square was fraught with an eerie hush as the somber scene unfolded. Kane, his once defiant gaze now dulled by resignation, stood at the precipice of his fate. The hangman's noose dangled ominously before him, swaying in the breeze like a macabre dance of death. The villagers had gathered, their expressions a tumultuous mix of curiosity, judgment, and sorrow.

At the forefront of the assembly stood the regal figure of the wolf king, King Leonard. Beside him, Ophelia stood, her tear-streaked face a canvas of heartache, her eyes locked on Kane with a mixture of longing and despair. Dalia was left to her. Ophelia did not look at her as she did not want to see the satisfaction on her face. Viktor stood to the right of the king, his countenance grim. A palpable tension gripped the square, a mélange of emotions swirling like the gusts of wind that rustled through the crowd.

Her heart was breaking just by looking at Kane’s battered features. His shirt had been reduced to nothing and so his torso was bare, the tattoos that ran down his left arm visible to all. Dirty black jeans clung to his legs, the only item of clothing he wore.

“We have gathered here today to witness the execution of one of the hunters who have dared to infiltrate our kingdom,” King Leonard’s voice rang clearly. “A man who not only tried to kill our kind in cold blood but who also had the audacity to seduce my daughter!”

“That’s not true and you know it!” Ophelia thundered, the murmuring in the crowd silencing at her outburst. Since her father would not listen to her in private, she would speak out in public.

“Princess,” Viktor growled in a warning, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Her father narrowed his gaze at her but did not comment on her outcry. Instead, he turned his venomous gaze back on Kane whose head hung low as his hands were bound behind his back.

“What have you to say for yourself, wolf hunter?”

Kane's voice, though tinged with weariness, rang clear as he addressed the king. “I never intended to kill you or your people. I sought to protect my own kind, my fellow humans, from what I believed to be a threat. We came here looking for rouges.” He lifted his head and met Ophelia’s teary gaze. “And if what you call seducing is falling madly, utterly and positively in love with Ophelia, then yes. I am guilty of that.”

Ophelia broke out into a sob.

“Will you quit being pathetic, Ophelia?” Dalia said sharply. “You’re only embarrassing yourself.”

Ophelia ignored her. She was past caring about shame. “Father, please,” she pleaded, grabbing onto his arm. “I beg of you. He’s innocent. He’s also a wolf like us.”

She saw his eyes widen in surprise at her words, hoping it would quell the fury she could feel burning him up. But unfortunately, it was not enough because he jerked his arm back from her grip before gesturing to the hangman to continue. “Say a prayer, wolf hunter.”

“No!” Ophelia screamed, lurching forward. Her entire was consumed by a surge of raw, untamed energy. Her body seemed to defy gravity as she closed the distance with an otherworldly speed, a blur of determination and defiance.

Time seemed to stretch as her outstretched hand clawed towards the hangman's noose, a desperate attempt to intervene. And then, as if the very elements bent to her will, a torrent of magical energy erupted from Ophelia's core. It roared like a tempest, a maelstrom of power that engulfed the entire palace in a blinding cascade of light.

Villagers were thrown back as though caught in a violent gale, their cries lost amidst the chaotic symphony of forces clashing. The force of Ophelia's magic pushed against them, a physical manifestation of her fierce determination to rewrite the course of Kane’s laid-out destiny.

The hangman, his face a mask of shock, stumbled backward as the wave of energy crashed into him. The noose slipped from his grasp, its coarse rope fluttering like a severed lifeline. His eyes widened in disbelief as the very ground beneath him seemed to tremble in response to the unleashed power.

She’d never felt power this raw before. Not even when she’d blacked out two days ago. This… this was scary. It made her feel invincible, untouchable. It felt like her body was one with the wind, as though she effortlessly floated.

And then, in a moment of sublime and heart-stopping grace, Ophelia's form collided with Kane's. Her body, infused with the same ethereal energy that had upturned the world around them, formed a protective cocoon around him. Her limbs entwined with his, a shield woven from sheer will and boundless magic.

Their bodies hit the ground with a thud of contrasting forces—one trembling with vulnerability, the other blazing with a ferocity that defied reason. Her breathless gasp mingled with Kane’s ragged ones as she lay on top of him.

The cascade of her magic began to subside, its brilliance receding like the tide. The villagers, slowly picking themselves up from the ground, stared in awe at the scene before them. Her father’s eyes were as wide as saucers and even Dalia’s mouth hung open. A palpable silence hung in the air, a fragile interlude before reality settled back in.

Ophelia's voice, laden with exhaustion and fierce resolve, cut through the stillness. “Anyone who wants to kill Kane will have to go through me first.”