The dungeon smelled of iron and damp stone.
Nyra stood outside Kaelen's cell long after the guards had retreated to the stairwell above. Torches flickered along the curved walls, casting shadows that made the iron bars look like claws.
Kaelen sat calmly on the stone bench, silver-lined chains wrapped around his wrists. The metal suppressed an Alpha's strength.
But not his presence.
That still filled the room.
"You're thinking too loudly," he said quietly.
She exhaled sharply. "You allowed them to chain you."
"Yes."
"You could have fought."
"Yes."
Her temper snapped. "Then why didn't you?"
He rose slowly, chains clinking with the movement. Even restrained, he seemed larger than the cell itself.
"Because if I had," he said, voice steady, "they would have called for your blade."
The words struck deeper than she expected.
"They want you to execute me, Nyra."
Silence pressed between them.
Her wolf paced restlessly beneath her skin.
"They cannot force me," she said.
"They can," he replied gently. "They will fabricate proof. Stage witnesses. Twist the law. And when the trial ends with a guilty verdict, they will demand blood."
Her fingers curled at her sides.
"Morvain is moving too quickly," she muttered. "This was planned."
Kaelen's eyes darkened. "It was."
She looked at him sharply.
"You knew."
"Yes."
The single word felt like betrayal.
"You knew they were building a case against you?" she demanded.
"I suspected."
"And you said nothing?"
"I needed them to move first."
Her breath hitched.
"You used yourself as bait."
A faint, grim smile. "It worked."
Rage and fear warred inside her.
"Explain," she ordered.
Kaelen stepped closer to the bars, lowering his voice.
"There is a faction within the council that believes the Alpha bloodline should not rule alone. They want collective control. Morvain leads them."
"That is treason," she said coldly.
"It is ambition," Kaelen corrected. "And ambition wears the mask of righteousness."
Nyra's mind raced.
"You let them arrest you so they would expose themselves."
"Yes."
"And what happens if they succeed?"
His gaze softened.
"Then you survive."
The air seemed to disappear from her lungs.
"You think I would stand by while they—"
"I think," he interrupted gently, "that you are stronger than you realize."
She stepped closer until only the bars separated them.
"You are speaking as if you expect to die."
"I am speaking as if I expect them to try."
Her wolf growled, low and furious.
Kaelen watched her carefully.
"There is something else," he said.
Her stomach tightened. "What."
"They are not only after me."
A cold understanding settled over her.
"They want the Executioner."
"Yes."
The dungeon felt smaller.
"Why?"
"Because the oath broke."
She went still.
"They do not understand how," he continued. "And they fear what they cannot control."
Nyra's pulse thundered.
"You believe they will attempt to rebind me."
Kaelen nodded.
"With a ritual."
The word chilled her more than chains ever could.
Ancient magic.
Painful.
Irreversible.
She remembered the stories.
If the ritual failed, the Executioner's mind shattered.
"You knew," she whispered. "You knew this was coming."
"Yes."
"And you did nothing to stop it."
He stepped even closer, until his hands wrapped around the bars between them.
"I am stopping it."
"How?" she demanded.
"By forcing them into the open. By making them act too soon."
"And if they do?"
His eyes burned with something fierce and unwavering.
"Then we burn their plans down."
Her breath caught.
We.
Not I.
Not you.
We.
The word felt dangerous.
Necessary.
Terrifying.
Footsteps echoed faintly from above.
Nyra stiffened.
Kaelen's voice dropped lower.
"There is something you must know before the trial."
Her pulse quickened. "What."
He hesitated.
For the first time since she had known him—he hesitated.
"When your oath was forged years ago," he said carefully, "it was not the council who chose you."
Her mind reeled.
"What do you mean?"
"The Alpha bloodline has a secondary rite. One older than the council."
Her heartbeat thundered.
"You marked me."
The truth settled between them like a spark meeting oil.
"Yes."
The word was barely more than breath.
"Before the oath was sealed, I marked you as mine."
The dungeon seemed to tilt.
"You had no right," she whispered.
"I had every right," he countered quietly. "The moon confirmed it."
Her wolf surged violently at the word.
Mine.
Mate.
The bond she had felt.
The heat.
The impossible pull.
It had not been accidental.
It had not been random.
"You bound me twice," she said, fury and something far more fragile mixing inside her.
"I protected you twice," he replied.
"From what?"
"From becoming their weapon completely."
The realization shattered through her.
The mating mark had diluted the council's hold over her.
It had given her free will.
It had saved her.
But he had never told her.
"You kept this from me," she said, voice shaking.
"If I had told you," he said softly, "you would have rejected it."
She didn't answer.
Because he was right.
Footsteps grew louder.
Voices echoed down the corridor.
Morvain's voice.
Nyra straightened instantly.
Kaelen's gaze sharpened.
"They are coming sooner than I expected."
The stairwell torches flared brighter.
Guards descended.
Not two.
Six.
Behind them, Morvain smiled.
"The council has convened early," he announced smoothly. "The trial will begin at dusk."
Nyra's stomach dropped.
"So soon?" she demanded.
Morvain's eyes flicked between her and Kaelen.
"Yes. We would not want secrets festering in darkness."
His gaze lingered on her.
"Prepare yourself, Executioner."
The meaning was unmistakable.
Choose your loyalty.
The guards unlocked the cell.
Not to free Kaelen—
But to move him.
Nyra stepped forward instinctively.
"You will not touch him without my oversight."
Morvain inclined his head slightly.
"Of course. You will walk beside him."
As they fastened additional restraints, Kaelen leaned close enough that only she could hear.
"They will try to separate us before the verdict."
Her pulse spiked.
"If they do," he murmured, "trust your instincts. Not the council."
The chains tightened.
The guards began leading him toward the stairwell.
Nyra followed.
Not because of an oath.
Not because of duty.
Because something deeper had awakened.
And as the dungeon doors opened to the fading light of dusk—
The moon rose.
Cracked.
Faintly fractured across its surface.
Watching.
Waiting.
And this time—
It felt like it was choosing sides.