Werewolves City.

Sorayah swallowed hard but refused to move.

Dimitri's hand remained tangled in her hair, his grip firm yet not painful, holding her in place, ensuring she knew exactly who was in control.

Pulling away wasn't an option.

She valued her life.

No matter how much she longed to drive a dagger into his heart, she knew she had to wait for the perfect moment.

Killing a man like him required more than rage.

It required precision.

Patience.

A sudden voice cut through the thick silence.

"Beta Lord Dimitri."

A soldier. His tone respectful, yet urgent.

"We've received a message. His Royal Highness, the Alpha Emperor's coronation is set for tomorrow morning, followed by his wedding. There is an order for us to be at the palace before dawn with the slaves. They're part of the wedding gifts."

At the words, Dimitri's fingers slid from her hair, releasing her.

His focus shifted, his gaze flickering toward the tent's entrance, cold and calculating.

"Noted." His tone was sharp, unyielding. "We move now. Get everyone ready. If anyone slows the journey...kill them."

Without another glance at Sorayah, he strode out of the tent, leaving her alone in the tent.

Her body remained rigid, but it wasn't from fear. It was something far deadlier.

The mention of the Alpha Emperor lit another fire inside her.

He was the one she truly wanted to kill.

More than Dimitri.

More than anyone.

The man who had stolen her heart.

The man who had betrayed her.

A soldier's rough shove jolted her back to reality.

Sorayah snapped out of her thoughts as she was ushered out of the tent, her gaze sweeping her surroundings until she noticed them.

A row of large wooden chests.

The werewolf army had just conquered yet another human kingdom, seizing not only slaves but also wealth, supplies, and precious resources. Gold, artifacts, fine silks anything of value.

But among their spoils, there was something else.

Medicine.

It was common practice for high-ranking officers to keep the finest goods for themselves before presenting the true treasures to the royal family.

And if she was right…

Then what she needed was inside one of those chests.

With everyone distracted by the preparations, this was her chance.

Her only chance.

Heart hammering against her ribs, she darted toward the crates, her fingers fumbling with the heavy lids. The first few were filled with riches, jewels, shimmering fabrics, stacks of gold coins glinting under the dim candlelight.

She barely spared them a glance.

Not what she needed.

She moved to the next.

Then another.

Her hands trembled as she pried open a final chest until her breath caught in her throat.

Inside, tucked among various supplies, was exactly what she had been searching for.

Medicinal herbs.

Her fingers brushed over the dried leaves, recognizing every single one. Their potency. Their worth.

And then, her gaze landed on something rare.

A single plant.

Vibrant green, its petals gleaming like morning dew.

The Green Life Plant.

Sorayah inhaled sharply.

This is it.

Her hands curled gently around the delicate stem.

This will save Lily.

She then wasted no time, wrapping the herb securely in the folds of her clothing. She ensured it was well-hidden before slipping out of the tent and quietly rejoining the others.

"Time to go!" a guard barked, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Immediately, the captives began moving, their weary bodies dragging forward in unsteady steps.

Sorayah fell back into position, her hands gripping the rough wooden handles of the wheelbarrow where Lily lay motionless. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she stole a quick glance around.

No one was watching.

Taking her chance, she discreetly pulled out the herb, bringing it to her lips before slipping it into her mouth.

The taste hit her instantly.

Bitter. Overpowering.

It was revolting, like swallowing raw earth and metal. But there was no choice.

She couldn't afford to wait until they arrived at the palace to prepare the medicine properly. There was no time to crush the leaves, no tools to grind them into a paste.

This was the only way.

She chewed quickly, jaw tightening against the taste, until the leaves became a thick pulp. Then, with practiced ease, she reached down and carefully pressed the mixture against Lily's wounds.

She only prayed it would work in time.

∆∆∆

The journey to the palace was grueling.

While the werewolf soldiers rode on horseback, the human captives were forced to march on foot. Those too weak to keep up were either whipped until they bled or killed where they stood.

Sorayah kept moving.

Kept breathing.

But her heart ached with a pain so deep it felt like it might tear her apart from the inside.

She did not cry.

She refused to shed a single tear.

Her kingdom had fallen in just one day.

She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms as she vowed silently:

One day, they will fall before me. One day, I will walk upon their blood.

"We've arrived!" a guard announced triumphantly, his voice ringing loud over the shuffling crowd.

The sight before them stole what little breath remained in Sorayah's lungs.

Towering buildings of white marble and gold stretched high into the sky, their intricate carvings glistening under the morning sun. The city pulsed with life, werewolves in their human forms strolled the streets, laughing, trading, going about their day as if nothing had changed.

As if they hadn't slaughtered an entire kingdom.

The captives were led deeper into the city, past grand structures and bustling markets, until the massive palace loomed before them like an unmovable beast. But instead of being taken through the gilded front gates, they were herded like cattle toward the back entrance.

A place meant for slaves.

The difference was stark.

Unlike the breathtaking splendor of the main city, this side of the palace was dull, barren, stripped of beauty and warmth. The stone walls were plain, the ground dry and cracked.

There was no need for anyone to be told what this place was.

It was obvious.

Humans who entered here were nothing but property.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the men were ripped away from the women and children, dragged toward an unknown fate.

Cries erupted all around her.

Some women collapsed, clutching at their husbands, their sons, begging, sobbing. Their voices shattered with grief. But their pain meant nothing to the werewolves.

A few dared to fight back, their fury burning bright in their screams.

It was the last sound they ever made.

A sharp blade.

A clean cut.

And their heads rolled to the ground.

The rest of the women swallowed their tears, forcing themselves into silence.

They knew better than to meet the same fate.

The march continued, leading them into the depths of the palace. The air grew heavier with each step, thick with unspoken fear.

Finally, after what felt like forever, they arrived at a modestly furnished building and were ushered inside.

The moment Sorayah stepped through the door, something shifted.

Not just within her but in the air itself.

A thick floral scent wrapped around them, cloying, almost suffocating. It filled her lungs, making her head spin for a moment before she adjusted.

She blinked, her gaze sweeping the space.

A bathhouse.

Grand pools of steaming water stretched across the chamber, their surfaces shimmering with floating petals. The walls were lined with veiled women dressed in matching blue skirts and tops, their faces partially obscured, making their expressions unreadable.

Their dark hair was adorned with delicate ornaments, glinting under the soft candlelight. They stood beside the baths, their postures poised, their gazes lowered in silent obedience.

Sorayah barely spared them a glance.

Because something else...someone else had captured her attention.

Seated at the far end of the bathhouse, draped in a black fur coat, was a figure she knew.

The upper half of his face was masked, but she didn't need to see it to know.

Her hands clenched at her sides.

Her heart pounded against her ribs.

Dimitri.