ALPHA'S DARK PAYMENT. HE REJECTED HER. HIS WOLF CHOSE HER.

Elara couldn't bear the taunt anymore.

The Blood Moon Pack never slept, not truly, but that morning a strange stillness gripped the land-too quiet, too heavy, as if the world itself held its breath. Even the birds had abandoned the sky.

Elara walked with her hands cuffed behind her back, her wrists aching from the silver chains burning her skin. Guards flanked her on both sides, tall warriors in dark armor that reflected their bitter hearts. Their boots crushed dead leaves as they marched her toward the central square.

She didn't ask questions.

Not because she couldn't get the answers she sought, but because questions were useless now.

She only breathed slowly, carefully, as though breathing in air was a sin.

"Keep walking," one of the guards roared.

She did.

The pack had gathered-hundreds of wolves forming a circle around the execution platform. Their faces blurred together, full of judgment. Some eyes held pity; others held savage satisfaction.

But all of them were waiting.

Waiting for the Alpha.

Waiting to watch her father die.

Waiting for her to be executed alongside her father?

She was still thinking when she was pushed forward and thrown on the ground.

"Ahh!" Elara yelled, landing on thorns; her smooth, milky skin peeled and bled from there.

"There she is!" the pack members yelled.

The screams she heard made her look up from where she lay.

She doesn't deserve to be alive!

She needs to die!

She should be made to feel what those young wolves felt.

Before she knew it, they began throwing heavy stones at her. All landed on her body. some on her head, nose, lips, chest, and legs.. all over her body in an instant.

"Get up."

Elara swallowed nothing and stood up from the ground. Her legs felt like feathers; her steps faltered, but the tiniest hesitation made the pack members stone her and the guards shove her from behind.

The execution frame glared at her, its wooden frame fresher than it should have been...

"I guess a fresh frame was designed for the once feared and respected Beta," Elara bit her lips.

At its center, her father knelt with his hands bound, eyes blindfolded, and chains clamped around his throat. His once dreaded presence was gone, replaced by the terrified shell of a man.

He lifted his head when he sensed her presence.

"Elara..." he rasped, his voice hoarse and thin.

Her breathing hitched.

"Elara.... My child..."

Elara couldn't remember moving her feet, but she suddenly stood at the gram's edge, wiping his tears. His face was swollen from the beating, his once blond hair tangled and stained with blood.

Elara bit her lips, tasting her own blood. She had imagined many versions of her father over the years:

Cold.

Cruel.

Stern.

Mean.

But never this broken version, which pierced her heart more than all the others.

She glanced at the judging eyes.

She wanted to speak.

Wanted to shout that she didn't know.

That she had no part