Kiera's POV
The silver chains were eating through my skin.
I could smell my own flesh burning, could feel the poison leaking into my bloodstream with every bump of the prison wagon. Silver didn't just hurt wolves—it weakened us, made us human-fragile and slow.
That was the point.
I shifted on the hard wooden bench, trying to find a position that didn't make the manacles dig deeper into my raw wrists. It was useless. Everything hurt. My body. My mind. The hollow space in my chest where the mate bond with Damien used to be.
Except it didn't hurt the way it should.
I closed my eyes and searched inside myself for the bond. When wolves mated, the connection lived in your soul—a constant presence, warm and alive. Killing your mate should feel like tearing out your own heart.
But when I reached for where Damien's bond should be, I found... nothing. Just empty space. Like he'd never been there at all.
Shouldn't I feel guilty? Shouldn't I be drowning in grief and agony?
Instead, I felt numb. Tired. And something else. Something new that pulsed in my chest like a second heartbeat.
I opened my eyes and looked toward the front of the caravan.
There. That golden warmth pulling at me, tugging like an invisible rope tied around my ribs. It pointed forward, toward the Alpha King riding somewhere ahead of this prison wagon.
Toward Theron.
My wolf stirred inside me, weak from the silver but still aware. Still reaching for him.
This was wrong. So completely wrong.
First time?
I jerked my head up. A woman sat across from me in the wagon, her own silver chains glinting in the early dawn light filtering through the bars. She was older, maybe forty, with scars across her face and a smile that showed too many teeth.
What? I asked.
First time being arrested, she clarified, leaning forward. You've got that look. Like you still think there's a way out.
Two other prisoners sat on either side of her—a thin man who wouldn't meet my eyes and a younger guy who kept glancing at me nervously. All of them wore silver chains. All of them looked beaten down by life.
There's no way out of Blood Court, the scarred woman continued. No one leaves that place alive. Well, no one except the King himself.
The thin man laughed, but it sounded broken. Even calling it a court is a joke. It's where traitors go to die slowly.
What did you do? I heard myself ask.
The woman shrugged. Killed my Alpha's son. He tried to force himself on my daughter. You?
Killed my mate, I said quietly.
All three prisoners went completely still.
Your mate? the young man whispered, eyes going wide. That's... that's impossible. The bond doesn't let you
She did it anyway, the scarred woman interrupted, studying me with new interest. That takes either incredible strength or incredible stupidity. Which are you, girl?
Desperate, I answered honestly.
She nodded slowly. Desperate I understand. But mate-killing? The King's going to make an example of you. Show all the territories what happens when you break the most sacred law.
My stomach twisted. I'd known execution was coming from the moment I drove that dagger into Damien's heart. But hearing it confirmed made it real in a way it hadn't been before.
How does he do it? I asked. Execute people, I mean.
The thin man made a choking sound. Depends on his mood. Sometimes quick. Sometimes... not.
I heard he once kept a traitor alive for three days, the young prisoner added. Asking questions, cutting pieces, waiting for a confession.
The golden thread in my chest pulsed, and I felt a flash of something through it. Annoyance? No, more like... controlled anger.
Could Theron feel me too? Feel my emotions the way I was starting to feel his?
The thought terrified me.
You know what's weird though? the scarred woman said, still watching me too closely. The King never personally escorts prisoners to Blood Court. Never. He's got guards for that. Commanders. He's the busiest wolf in all the territories.
I frowned. What are you saying?
I'm saying you must be special. Her smile turned sharp. And special prisoners get special treatment. Special torture.
The words hit me like a fist to the gut. Of course. Theron wasn't taking me to Blood Court for a normal execution. He wanted answers about the impossible bond between us. He'd said as much last night.
Either you're the best liar I've ever met, or your bond with Damien was never real at all.
He was going to tear me apart trying to figure out which.
The wagon hit a bump and pain exploded up my arms from the silver chains. I bit back a gasp, refusing to show weakness in front of the other prisoners.
The golden thread pulsed again, stronger this time. Warmer.
Concerned.
No. That couldn't be right. Theron Nightshade didn't feel concern for prisoners. He was the merciless Alpha King who crushed rebellions and executed traitors without blinking.
But the bond didn't lie.
I tested it carefully, like poking a bruise. I pushed a thought down that golden connection: Where's my sister?
Nothing happened for several heartbeats.
Then, so faint I almost missed it, a response echoed back. Not words exactly, but a feeling. Confusion mixed with curiosity mixed with something that felt almost like... protectiveness?
My breath caught.
This wasn't possible. Bonds didn't form this fast, this strong, between strangers. Even fated mates needed time to develop the kind of connection where you could feel each other's emotions and share thoughts.
Unless we weren't strangers.
Unless this bond had been waiting for us all along, and meeting last night just finally unlocked it.
The scarred woman was still talking, telling some story about Blood Court's dungeons, but I couldn't focus on her words anymore. My mind was racing too fast.
If Theron was my real mate, then what was Damien?
The bond with Damien had felt real. I'd felt it snap into place the first time we met, had felt that pull toward him. We were supposed to be fated mates, destined by the Moon Goddess herself.
But I'd killed him. Driven a silver dagger through his heart and watched him die.
And I'd felt nothing.
No pain. No grief. No severing agony that should have destroyed me.
Just... relief that it was over.
The wagon lurched to a sudden stop.
Everyone went quiet.
Heavy footsteps approached from outside. The door swung open, flooding the dark wagon with morning light.
Alpha King Theron stood in the doorway.
His silver eyes found mine immediately, and the bond between us flared so bright it hurt.
Out, he commanded the other prisoners. All of you except her.
The three scrambled to obey, chains rattling as they climbed out past him. The scarred woman shot me one last look—half pity, half curiosity—before disappearing.
Then it was just me and Theron.
He stepped into the wagon and pulled the door shut behind him.
We were alone.
The space suddenly felt too small, too close. I could smell him now—pine and winter frost and something darker, something dangerous.
Why can I feel your emotions? I demanded before he could speak. Why does this bond feel stronger than the one I had with Damien?
Theron's jaw tightened. Because Damien was never your real mate.
That's impossible. I felt the bond with him!
You felt a bond, he corrected. Not the bond.
I stared at him. What's the difference?
He was quiet for a long moment, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve.
Finally, he spoke, and his words changed everything:
Someone made you believe Damien was your mate. Someone created a fake bond and made you both feel it was real. He paused. And I'm going to find out who—because they didn't just manipulate you.
He reached out and touched my face, his hand warm against my skin.
The bond exploded with light and heat and rightness.
They stole you from me.