Peter’s Execution
Peter left the council chamber that day with his chest puffed out, clutching the sealed letter like a crown jewel. As he strode through the estate halls, several officials who had long despised him scowled at his arrogance, but Peter mistook their silence for envy.
“Did you see?” he muttered loudly to the three warriors who usually lingered near him. “Theo himself has entrusted me with the pack’s most important report. When I stand before Alpha Damian with this seal, do you think he won’t recognize my worth?”
One of the warriors smirked and replied, “Of course, Lord Peter. You are destined for greater heights.”
“Greater heights indeed,” Peter boasted, adjusting his cloak. “Perhaps Damian will see that Theo’s reign as acting alpha is no longer necessary. Who knows? In time, the title of alpha could be mine.”
His words sent a ripple of disbelief through the officials nearby, but none dared correct him. Theo’s favor—or so they believed—made him untouchable for now.
That night, Peter feasted with his allies, declaring that the winds of power were shifting. His arrogance reached its peak when he sneered, “Those who once spat at my name will soon bow to me. By the time I return, the Alpha himself will be speaking my praises.”
—
The journey to Damian's Pack was long, but Peter rode fast, driven by visions of glory. He rehearsed his words for Damian, imagining the Alpha smiling and rewarding him with riches and position. The letter, sealed and pristine, remained untouched at his side—why would he ever suspect that it carried his doom?
At last, he arrived before the grand gates of the Alpha’s fortress. The guards, recognizing Theo’s seal, immediately granted him passage.
Inside the hall, Alpha Damian sat in his towering seat, his presence as sharp and heavy as a blade. His piercing eyes flicked to Peter the moment he entered.
Peter bowed deeply, trying to appear humble though his heart swelled with pride. “My Lord Alpha, I bring to you the latest reports of the pack, entrusted to me personally by Acting alpha Theo.”
Damian gestured lazily. “Bring it forward.”
Peter stepped closer, laying the letter at Damian’s feet as though it were a sacred offering. His chest tightened with excitement. This was it—the moment his destiny would change.
Damian broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter. His gaze scanned the pages in silence. The hall was so quiet that Peter could hear the thundering of his own heartbeat.
Then Damian’s expression shifted—first calm, then dark, and finally cold as steel. He raised his eyes slowly, and the weight of his stare pierced through Peter like a spear.
“Peter…” Damian’s voice was low, deliberate. “Do you have any idea what you have delivered into my hands?”
Peter blinked, confused. “My… my Lord? I—I do not understand—”
Damian rose from his seat, his towering figure casting a shadow over him. “This letter contains not the pack’s reports—but your treacheries. Every lie, every insult, every plot against Theo—written in detail.”
The color drained from Peter’s face. His knees trembled, and he stumbled backward. “N-No… it’s a mistake. Theo—he must have tricked me—”
“Silence!” Damian’s voice thundered, shaking the hall. “You dared to sow discord in my pack, to raise your hand against those loyal to me. And worse—you were blind enough to walk here and place the evidence yourself before me.”
The hall erupted with murmurs. Peter collapsed to his knees, begging desperately. “Mercy, my Lord! I was deceived—I can serve you, I can prove my loyalty—please!”
But Damian’s eyes were merciless. He raised his hand, signaling the guards.
“Take him. His punishment shall be an example to all who think betrayal can be hidden.”
Peter screamed as the guards seized him, his proud dreams shattering in an instant. As he was dragged away, Damian sat back down with grim satisfaction.
Theo’s letter had not only removed a threat—it had delivered the fool into Damian’s hands on a silver platter.
\---
Peter’s frantic cries echoed through the hall, but Damian’s expression remained like stone. Mercy was not in his nature when betrayal reared its head.
The Alpha’s voice cut through the air, cold and commanding:
“Prepare the execution block. He dies tonight.”
The guards dragged Peter away, his pleas rising to screams. “No! My Lord, please! I can change—I can prove myself! Spare me!” His words bounced uselessly off the tall stone walls.
By nightfall, torches blazed in the courtyard of the fortress. Warriors, officials, and servants gathered to witness the spectacle. It was Damian’s way—to let every eye see the price of disloyalty.
Peter was forced to his knees before the block, his hands bound tight. His once-proud face was pale with terror, his hair damp with sweat. He shook his head wildly as the executioner stepped forward with a gleaming blade.
“Please!” he cried hoarsely. “Theo lied! I never—”
Damian raised his hand, silencing him instantly. His voice carried across the courtyard, sharp as thunder:
“Let this be a lesson. Treachery will never root itself in Dam-Nighade Pack. Betrayal will not be forgiven.”
Peter opened his mouth to scream again, but the sound was lost in the brutal whoosh of the descending blade.
One clean strike. His head fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and his body crumpled lifeless beside it. A gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by silence so deep that even the crackling torches seemed muted.
Damian’s gaze swept over the onlookers, his presence radiating power and warning. “This is the fate of all who plot against their own pack.”
No one dared breathe a word. Fear and awe mingled in the air as the guards carried Peter’s body away.
That night, whispers of Peter’s execution spread like wildfire. To some, it was terrifying. To others, it was a grim reassurance that Damian’s hand remained strong, unyielding, and just.
And far away, when the letter of the news reached Theo, a faint, satisfied smile touched his lips. The trap had worked perfectly. One enemy had been silenced forever.