The Execution

Chapter Six – Zara's POV

The Execution

The first thing I felt was the cold.

It seeped into my bones, wrapped around my bruised skin like death itself. My body ached, every muscle torn, every wound stinging—but I barely registered the pain anymore.

Pain meant nothing.

Not when I knew I was about to die.

Rough hands grabbed my arms, yanking me up from the hard stone floor of my cell. I let out a weak gasp, my body too battered to resist as the guards hauled me forward. My feet stumbled over themselves as they dragged me up the damp stone stairs, my breath shaky.

Then the light hit me.

The sun was barely rising, but to someone who had spent days locked away in darkness, it burned my eyes like fire. As if it was the first time seeing it.

And then I heard them.

The crowd.

Their voices crashed against me, a wave of pure hatred, thick and suffocating.

"Monster!"

"Curse!"

"She deserves death!"

"She killed the Luna!"

Each word sliced into me like a blade, reopening wounds that had never healed.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

I kept my head down.

I refused to look at them.

But I could feel their eyes on me—hundreds of them, all watching, all waiting to see me die.

The guards pulled me through the mass of bodies, dragging me toward the center of the clearing. The moment my bare feet touched the cold ground, a shiver ran through me.

And then I saw it.

The execution post.

A thick wooden beam, old and splintered from years of use.

The place where I would take my last breath.

"Let me out."

My wolf stirred deep inside me, her energy rippling under my skin.

"Not now," I whispered.

"They want us dead!" she hissed. "I can save us."

I took a deep breath as I I replied back.

"I know."

"Then fight!" She growled.

"No." I yelled back.

I let them tie me to the post, my back pressing against the rough wood. The rope bit into my wrists, digging deep, the fibers burning against my already raw skin.

I didn't resist.

I didn't struggle.

What was the point?

This was my fate.

Slowly, I lifted my head.

And there he was.

My father.

Standing at the front, towering over the crowd, his face carved from stone.

There was no hesitation in his gaze.

No pity.

No remorse.

Beside him, Cora stood with her arms crossed, her blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

The sister I had once loved.

The sister who had framed me.

She was smiling.

Enjoying this.

The betrayal tasted bitter on my tongue.

Then my gaze drifted lower—to the warriors lined up in formation, bows raised, arrows nocked.

And there, at the very front, was James.

His dark eyes met mine.

And he smiled.

Something inside me shattered.

"This is it," I told myself. "This is the end."

I had spent days trying to prove I wasn't a monster.

Trying to belong.

Trying to be loved.

And now, the people I had once called family were about to kill me without a second thought.

A warrior stepped forward, his voice loud, clear. "Zara Nightshade, for the crime of murdering the Luna, for the sin of bringing ruin upon this pack, you have been sentenced to death."

The crowd roared again, screaming their approval.

I closed my eyes.

"Mother… I'll see you soon."

Then, another voice.

Strong. Commanding.

My father.

"Zara." His voice carried over the chaos. "Look at me."

Slowly, I lifted my head.

He took a step forward, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Do you have any final words?"

The warriors stood still, waiting for the order.

The archers' fingers twitched against their bowstrings.

Cora smirked.

James adjusted his stance, keeping his bow aimed right at my chest.

I let out a shaky breath.

And then, for the first time since this nightmare began, I spoke.

"I didn't kill her."

Silence.

For a brief second, the world seems to hold its breath.

Then my father's expression darkened. "Lies," he spat. "You expect us to believe that?"

"I don't expect you to believe anything," I murmured. "You already made up your mind the moment I was born."

A murmur ran through the crowd.

Cora's smirk faltered slightly, but she masked it quickly.

I turned my gaze back to my father.

"I am not a monster," I said, louder this time.

More whispers.

I didn't flinch. I didn't lower my gaze.

I met his eyes head-on.

"You always feared me," I continued, my voice steady. "Not because I was dangerous. Not because I was cursed. But because I was different. Because I was something you couldn't control."

Anger flickered in his gaze.

"You are nothing but a mistake," he growled. "A cursed child who should never have been born."

I smiled Bitterly.

"You've always thought that," I whispered. "Haven't you?"

He didn't answer.

But he didn't have to.

I looked at the warriors. At James.

James, who had once whispered my name with warmth.

James, who now aimed an arrow at my heart.

"You're going to do it, aren't you?" I asked softly.

He smirked without a word.

I felt my wolf surge inside me.

"Let me out!" she snarled. "I will tear them apart!"

I closed my eyes.

"No."

"Why?!" she roared.

"Because this is what I want."

I took a deep breath.

The ropes burned against my skin.

The wind howled through the trees.

And then—

My father raised his hand.

"Fire."

I heard the archers inhale.

I heard the snap of bowstrings.

And just as the first arrow was about to strike—

"STOP!"

The voice rang through the clearing.

Powerful. Unwavering.

Everything stopped.

The warriors froze.

The arrows halted mid-flight, inches from my skin.

The crowd fell into a stunned silence.

And I—

I opened my eyes.

At the edge of the clearing stood a man I had never seen before.

Dark. Tall. Overwhelming.

Power radiated from him in waves, thick and suffocating.

His green eyes locked onto mine, sharp and unyielding.

He took another step forward, his presence swallowing the air itself.

And then he spoke, voice like thunder.

"STOP."