The crowd roared as one head fell, then another. The slick sching of the blade cleaving through flesh electrified them, their thirst for bloodshed stoked with each execution.
Xiersa dragged the iron ball chained to her ankles, her wrists raw from the silver cuffs-not because the metal burned, but because they had been fastened too tight.
Days without food or water had hollowed her, yet survival was not what she sought. She moved with purpose, eager to meet her end.
A hush fell over the masses as she mounted the execution platform. Their murmurs died at the sight of her indifference, her willingness to press her throat against the blood-slicked guillotine.
Just before the executioner released the rope, a robed figure leapt onto the makeshift stage, his arrival shaking the planks beneath her knees. Yet she neither staggered nor flinched.
Soldiers wrenched her upright by the shoulders. Before her stood the conqueror-the Alpha werewolf who had razed kingdoms beneath his heel, his gaze a blade of pure dominance.
He seized her chin, forcing her face upward. His green eyes glowed, slitted like a predator's, fangs bared as if he meant to devour her whole.
She did not cower. The wind whipped at her tattered prison garb, the filthy sackcloth clinging to her emaciated frame. Still, she met his glare with one of her own.
*"Your Majesty! She's a filthy criminal-unworthy of your touch!"*
Herenia, one of the Alpha's advisors, shot to her feet, her embroidered fan clutched in white-knuckled fury. Her gilded gown belonged at an imperial ball, not this grisly spectacle.
The emperor ignored her. His aura alone was enough to strangle the protest in her throat-Herenia collapsed, senseless, into her attendants' frantic arms.
"I knowexactly how to use you," he murmured, his grip unrelenting. His claws smeared her neck, and for a fleeting moment, Xiersa wondered if pity flickered in him. But no-men were all the same. Brutes.
She slapped his hand away and spat in his face. Then she turned, strode past him, and knelt at the guillotine.
His minions hauled her back before she could embrace death. She fought, but starvation had sapped her strength.
Ragus' grin widened. With a surge of his aura, the platform splintered apart. Xiersa was yanked toward him as soldiers tumbled backward, the executioner narrowly avoiding the falling blade.
"Clear the square. Return the prisoners to their cells."
Relief swept through the condemned, while the crowd bit back their disappointment, too wary of the Alpha's wrath to protest.
He shoved Xiersa toward a cluster of waiting- women summoned, no doubt, by his silent command. "You know what to do." As he strode toward the castle, his gaze lingered on her one last time.
Xiersa's eyes widened in disbelief.
The maids scrubbed Xiersa raw, then draped her in a sheer nightdress. One hurried her toward the emperor's quarters, while another-a freckled girl named Belle-pressed shoes into her hands.
"Please wear them," Belle whispered, earning glares from the others. Xiersa obliged, not out of need, but gratitude for the small kindness.
Belle urged her to eat. She managed a few bites, her stomach too clenched with dread for hunger.
"Why bother?" sneered a maid. "She's just another plaything. By dawn, he'll have tossed her aside."
Belle ignored them, steadying Xiersa as they approached the Alpha's chambers.
The hallway was eerily empty, the massive double doors impossible to miss.
Before she could knock, an unseen force wrenched her inside. Ragus flung her onto the bed, her yelp swallowed by the satin sheets.
Clad in nothing but a loose robe, he prowled over her, his smile razor-sharp.
"I didn't realize the emperor had a taste for used goods," Xiersa said, bracing herself on her elbows.
Ragus pinned her wrists, his grin undimmed. "Did you think I didn't know?"
"What will your people say when they learn their mighty Alpha beds another male's mate?" She taunted him, praying for a swift end.
He laughed, releasing her. "You amuse me. I doubt I'll tire of you soon." A shiver raced down her spine. His indifference was genuine - her "impurity" meant nothing to him.
Her fear only delighted him more. "Exhilarating. I hadn't expected this thrill from you, Xiersa."
Her breath hitched. "How… how do you—?"
"Who doesn't?" He slid between her trembling thighs, his lips grazing her ear. "Aren't you the legendary general? The Scythe of the Abandoned Lands?"
Her heart hammered. She had been the revered general of a fallen nation - a buried identity.
Now, his hostility made sense. She glanced at the moonlit sky, as if for the last time.
Then she smirked, yanking his face to hers. "Since you know, why not kill me? Or do you prefer bedding your enemies?"
Ragus shoved her down, unfazed. "Death is too merciful. Your punishment will be slow. Certain."