The prince’s cyan eyes snapped to the women. Mia cowered, trembling so violently her chains rattled. Elsa forced herself to stand straighter, chest heaving as she fought to steady her breathing.
Ryxin loomed over them, his gaze sharp enough to cut. “Compose yourself.” The words were directed at Mia, cold and precise as a blade. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop this pathetic display.”
He paused. Let the silence stretch.
“The Alpha King not only hates displays of weakness—he hates waiting. And he’s waited long enough.”
The finality in his voice made something crack inside Elsa’s chest.
This was it. No more delays. No more medical bays or healing domes or temporary reprieve.
They were about to face the monster who held their lives in his clawed hands.
And from everything she’d learned so far—from Yarx’s weary warnings, from Xar’s barely restrained violence, from Ryxin’s casual cruelty—the Alpha King was far worse than any of them.
Elsa glanced at Mia, who shook beside her, silent tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Then at Rowan and Milo, being dragged toward the doorway by guards whose expressions held no mercy.
The pits, one guard had said.
Elsa didn’t know what that meant. But the way Rowan fought against the chains, the way Milo’s face had gone ashen—they knew.
And it terrified them more than anything else that had happened so far.
The guards hauled the men through the archway. Their struggles grew weaker. More desperate. Then they were gone, swallowed by shadows and stone.
Ryxin’s attention returned to Elsa and Mia. “Come.”
Not a request. A command.
Elsa’s legs moved before her brain caught up. The ankle chains clinked with each shuffling step, forcing her into a pace that felt deliberately humiliating.
Mia stumbled beside her, still crying quietly, her shoulders hunched as if the weight of their gazes would crush her.
They followed Ryxin deeper into the fortress. Xar fell into step behind them, his presence a constant reminder that escape wasn’t an option. The two guards from the chamber joined the procession, their claws clicking against stone in perfect rhythm.
The corridors were carved from dark rock, lit by those same blue-glowing gems embedded in the walls at regular intervals. The architecture was ancient and foreign, built for creatures far larger than humans, with ceilings that soared into darkness and doorways wide enough to fit three wolfmen side by side.
Every step brought them closer to whatever waited at the end of this march.
The Alpha King.
The creature who would decide their fate.
Elsa’s fingers found the implant behind her ear again, tracing its edges compulsively. The universal communicator that ensured she’d understand every word of her own sentencing.
Perhaps he’ll be reasonable, she thought desperately.Perhaps he’ll listen.
But the echo of Ryxin’s words followed her through the twisting corridors:
You will face the Alpha King, who will determine your fate.
Not negotiate. Not discuss.
Determine.
Like they were problems to be solved. Resources to be allocated.
Property to be claimed or discarded.