~Savanna's POV~
They shove me out like a beast.
Five guardians fling the cell door and haul me into the corridor. The sacred rope bites my wrists, neck, legs. Three hold the ropes tight. Two walk ahead with torches. No one speaks. Faces are hard. Jaws set.
We move through stone tunnels. Torches throw long shadows that lick the walls. Ahead a voice says, flat and certain, "On the altar of no return we will end her life."
My heart hammers. Heat blooms under my ribs. I know what that voice means. No one who touches that altar comes back. The path ends the same every time.
They shove me into the forbidden rituals room.
Skulls line the shelves like teeth. Bones stare down. Someone tried to mask the scent with sweet oil. It makes the place smell like perfume over rot. The room feels smaller than the passage.
Anders stands with his arms folded. The Wolfcrown delegation waits with knives at their hips. Lila sits on a low stool. Her hands twist at the hem. Her fingers are white where they grip the cloth. She does not move. My Gamma watches like a post. Hector is not there.
The skulls crowd the light and make my throat close. For a moment I see my face in an empty socket. Bile rises in my mouth.
Lila cries quietly. She presses her palms to her face. I want to reach. I remember the way she shoved me when we trained. The way she covered me from slurs. Now she cannot move. She cannot save me.
They force me down. Stone rasps my knees. They pull my hands back and bend my head until my forehead rests on the altar. The surface is crusted with old blood. Ash scratches my skin.
"Adieu, Lila," I whisper. "Adieu, sister. Maybe we will meet again."
Anders walks forward. His voice is a blade.
"The law has stood since before our ancestors," he says. "They obeyed it. We obey. Who kills by sword must die by sword. The moon rejects impurity. It punishes blood."
He kneels and sprinkles ash across my face. Gray dust fills my mouth. My sight blurs. Tears mix with grit on the altar.
Eamon begins an incantation. The words coil low and steady. Torches lean as if listening.
A giant warrior lifts a sharp axe. The blade catches light. He breathes slowly. The axe waits.
Then a voice cuts like a knife through stone.
"Stop. Stop whatever you are doing. Stop now."
The axe freezes. The warrior holds still. I know the voice before I see its owner. It holds the room in its hand.
Footsteps pound. Hector and his guards fill the doorway. Blood dots his lip like a fresh bruise. He looks like a man who has been sick and kept moving.
He pauses at the threshold and the room leans toward him.
"Stop whatever you are doing," he says again. "I have changed my mind. No more execution. Exonerate her now."
The room sounds animal-like. A low ugly groan.
Anders spits. "My Alpha, we judged. We accept justice over this false prophecy. We cannot go back."
Hector steps forward and sets his hands flat on a stone pillar. His fingers splay on the rim as if he keeps something in. He breathes once. A slow hard breath. The cut at his lip darkens his face.
"My mind would not rest," he says. "I am convinced the revelation is true. The Moon does not lie. Savannah is my fated mate."
He turns so everyone sees. "If we kill her, we may regret it. This will shake the foundation of the werewolves. It is not only Moon-Kingdom that will suffer. She is the messenger. We cannot throw away this chance because of a crime."
Malachi slams his staff to the floor. The sound cracks the air.
"My Alpha," he says, voice hard, "what of the souls she ruined? The families who mourn? She killed our kin. Even if she is chosen, she came at the worst time. Maybe the Moon will send another messenger."
He leans in. "What will your rule be if justice bends for one life? Many died under the law. No one is above it. Let justice hold."
Hector keeps his eyes on Malachi. Fury lives under his skin but he pins it down. He answers, low, "I know the cost. But we must accept the prophecy, however painful."
Malachi narrows his eyes. "My Alpha, this choice may start a war. It could split your pack. Think."
The words hit the floor like stones.
The ropes cut into my wrists. The ash clings. My ankle still aches from the cut. I force breath in and find my voice. "My Alpha," I say, voice thin, "let me die. The pain is too much. Let me rest. Let me face the consequence of my crimes."
Someone laughs. It is small and cruel.
Hector does not wait. He says, "No."
He yells to the guards, "Release her. Release her now."
The sacred cords scrape as they fall. The sound is raw and quick. The air hits my skin and it feels huge. For a blink I do not know who I am without bindings. The world smells sharper. The ropes are gone.
Anders flushes red. "My Alpha, you go against the law. Will you bear the consequence? Do you want to put the pack in danger for this—monster?"
Hector pivots. He does not shout. He says, "Do not call her monster again. Not in my presence. Not ever."
Anders snaps back, "The prophecy is not complete. The mate-bond binding proves if souls match fully at the deepest level."
Hector nods once. "I know. We will bind. We will not lie to the Moon. We will follow the law as it requires."
Thalia steps forward. "Must you press him, Anders? The binding ritual is optional and dangerous. One or both may die if their souls reject each other. Survival proves the prophecy. The revelation already showed enough."
She meets the elders' eyes. "We risk the foundation more if we throw this away now. The moon goddess doesn't lie."
Hector answers her. "We will perform the binding. We will prove the truth—or die trying. When do you want to proceed?"
Thalia replies, "By law we wait three months. There are rites and preparations."
Hector does not flinch. "Then we prepare. We will not rush." He exhales as if dropping a weight.
He steps close and lifts me. My body is a wet, heavy thing. Every move is a chain of small hurts. He holds me like I am a burden and something precious. Up close I can smell him—smoke and iron and a faint clean edge.
His voice lowers. Only I can hear. "Little beautiful warrior. Our messenger. From this moment on, you are my mate."
I force a nod. My body obeys before my hope can rise.
Anders explodes. "I will not forgive this. Over my dead body. She killed my daughter. She killed guests. Do you think she walks free? I will have my revenge."
Malachi roars, "We will declare war if she walks free."
They turn and march out, feet pounding. Wolfcrown pushes through with banners and hard faces. Threats roll behind them like thunder.
Only Thalia, Silas, Lila, and a line of guards remain. The room smells of oil and iron and unsettled air.
The doors slam. Anders' words cut back from the threshold. "I will make sure she dies. I will never rest in this case."
His voice hangs at the doorway like a promise.
It settles over me like a cold shade.