CHAPTER THREE: THE WOLF WHO WOULDN'T BREAK
Damon's POV
I stood at the window of my office, watching the moon climb higher in the night sky. Behind me, Ronan paced like a caged animal, his frustration palpable.
"You should have killed her on the spot," he said for the third time.
"Crescent wolves don't deserve trials or holding cells. They deserve death."
"I gave my orders," I replied, my voice flat. "She dies at dawn."
"Then why wait?" Ronan stopped pacing, his reflection appearing in the window beside mine.
"Why give her a night to recover? To plan an escape?"
"She's half-dead from silver poisoning. She's not escaping anywhere."
"That's not the point, Damon." He moved closer, his tone dropping.
"You felt it too. That girl isn't what she seems."
I had felt it. The moment she'd walked into my hall, something had shifted in the air. My wolf had stirred in a way it hadn't in years, restless and agitated.
But I wasn't about to admit that to Ronan.
"She's a Crescent," I said instead.
"That's all that matters."
"Is it?" Ronan's eyes narrowed.
"Because the Damon I know would have put a bullet in her head the second he confirmed what she was. But you didn't. You gave her time."
I turned from the window, meeting his gaze head-on.
"Are you questioning my judgment?"
"I'm questioning your hesitation," he shot back.
"We've built this pack on strength and decisiveness. Showing mercy to a Crescent—even for a few hours—makes us look weak."
"No one will see it as weakness. They'll see it as justice."
I moved past him, heading toward the door.
"She gets a trial, even if it's a short one. Then she dies. That's final."
Ronan followed me into the hallway.
"Where are you going?"
"To check the perimeter." It was a lie, and we both knew it.
"Damon—"
"Drop it, Ronan."
He fell silent, but I could feel his disapproval burning into my back as I walked away.
The truth was, I didn't know why I'd let her live. Every instinct, every memory of what the Crescents had taken from me, screamed for her blood.
But when she'd stood there, wounded and defiant, refusing to beg for her life…
Something had stopped me.
I shoved the thought aside as I made my way through the packhouse. Several wolves stopped to bow as I passed, their eyes tracking my movements with the wariness that came with knowing their Alpha.
I didn't stop until I reached the holding cells beneath the main building.
The guard stationed outside straightened immediately.
"Alpha."
"I need to speak with the prisoner."
He hesitated. "Sir, she's in bad shape. The silver—"
"I'm aware. Open the door."
He obeyed, pulling the heavy door open to reveal the narrow staircase leading down into darkness. I descended alone, my footsteps echoing off stone walls.
The cells were designed to hold the worst of the worst—rogues, traitors, enemy wolves. We rarely used them. When we caught threats, we eliminated them quickly.
But tonight, one cell was occupied.
She was huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her skin was pale, too pale, and a sheen of sweat covered her forehead. The silver was still working its way through her system, slowly killing her from the inside out.
But her eyes... her eyes were still fierce.
They snapped to me the moment I approached, green and defiant despite the pain she had to be in.
"Come to gloat?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
"No." I stopped just outside the bars, studying her.
"I came for answers."
She let out a bitter laugh. "I already told you everything."
"Not everything." I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms.
"You said your mate betrayed you. Who is he?"
Her jaw tightened. "Does it matter?"
"It does to me."
For a moment, I thought she wouldn't answer. Then her shoulders sagged, exhaustion winning out over pride.
"Caleb Thorne," she said quietly. "The Alpha's son."
Recognition sparked. I knew of Caleb Thorne—a rising star in the Crescent pack, groomed from birth to take over leadership. Strong, ambitious, and utterly ruthless.
"And your sister?"
"Lila." The name came out like poison.
"My twin."
"They were having an affair."
She nodded, her gaze distant. "I found them together tonight. When I confronted them, Caleb accused me of treason. Said I'd been meeting with rogues. It was a lie, but no one would believe me over him."
"So you ran."
"Wouldn't you?"
Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw past the Crescent wolf to the woman beneath—broken, betrayed, but still fighting.
"They were going to kill me for a crime I didn't commit. Running was my only option."
I believed her. Against all logic and reason, I believed every word.
"Why cross into Nightshade?" I asked.
"You had to know what would happen."
"I knew." She shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at her wound.
"But it was still better than going back."
Silence fell between us, heavy and charged.
"You should rest," I said finally.
"Conserve your strength."
"For my execution?" She smiled, but there was no humor in it. "How thoughtful."
I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me
.
"Alpha Damon?"
I looked back.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For giving me one more night."
Something twisted in my chest—an unfamiliar sensation that I quickly shoved down.
"Don't thank me yet," I replied. "Dawn comes quickly."
I left before she could say anything else, climbing the stairs two at a time as if I could outrun whatever it was I'd felt in that cell.
By the time I reached my office, my hands were shaking.
This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.
She was a Crescent. The daughter of the pack that had murdered my father. By every law we had, every code I'd built my life around, she deserved to die.
So why couldn't I give the order?
I poured myself a glass of whiskey and drank it in
one swallow, welcoming the burn.
Tomorrow, she would be executed.
Tomorrow, this strange hesitation would end.
Tomorrow, everything would go back to normal.
I repeated it like a mantra, trying to make myself believe it.
But deep down, I knew the truth.
Nothing was going to be normal ever again.