Anabel
The stone balustrade was biting into my palms, but I couldn't feel the cold. I couldn't feel the freezing mountain wind whipping my hair across my face, or the icy air filling my lungs with every ragged, shallow breath.
All I could feel was the suffocating, dead silence that had settled over the entire courtyard.
Hundreds of eyes—guard captains, pack elders, warrior ranks, and servants—were locked onto me. The roaring demand for blood that had echoed off the surrounding stone walls just minutes ago had completely vanished, replaced by an absolute, horrifying stillness.
Down in the bloody gravel of the square, Davian stood frozen beside the wooden execution post. His heavy broadsword lay uselessly in the dirt where it had fallen from his grip. He didn't make a move to pick it up. He just stared up at me, his jaw slack, his golden Alpha eyes burning with a soul-crushing mixture of shock, disgust, and complete defeat.
