The metallic clank of the cell door snapped her back to reality.
Raven didn't struggle as the men yanked her to her feet. She was numb now, drifting somewhere between life and the next thing. They didn't speak, just grabbed her arms and dragged her through the maze of prison corridors, up into the cool night air. The scent of pine trees and burning wood reached her nose, mixed with the aroma of meat. Roasted meat.
They marched her into a wide forest clearing, the trees forming a perfect circle around a roaring bonfire in the center. Wolves danced around it in chaotic rhythm, howling into the sky. The men were all shirtless. Why were they always shirtless?
It was a full blown execution party. Raven raised an eyebrow as they forced her to her knees in front of a large, ancient tree stump. It looked freshly polished, like someone had sanded it specifically for chopping heads.
They tied her hands behind her back, tight enough to make her wrists throb. She stared at the crowd. The drums pounded like war chants. Lira sat with the posture of a queen.
Raven met her eyes. Didn't blink.
Lira raised one hand. The drumming stopped so suddenly it was like the forest itself had been muted.
This was it.
"This human dared to lay hands on one of us," Lira declared. Her voice carried over the crackling bonfire, rising above the murmurs of the bloodthirsty crowd. "Cyril is lying there, fighting for his life!" she went on, her eyes glinting with righteous fury. "The alpha warned us not to attack the humans unless we are threatened. But this… this execution is justified."
The moment she finished, the clearing exploded with primal energy. Howls erupted from the men, while the women clapped daintily and draped themselves on their favorite shirtless specimens. Raven, still kneeling at the tree stump, rolled her eyes internally. Was this a public execution or a very twisted prom night?
With a single flick of her wrist, Lira signaled her executioners. It was almost elegant. Raven was shoved forward, her knees scraping against the dirt as her neck was pressed against the smooth, polished wood of the chopping block. The stump was cold, and smelled faintly of old blood.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry as ash. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, each thud sounding like the ticking of a very loud clock.
She didn't scream. She didn't beg. There wasn't any point. Instead, she closed her eyes and muttered a quiet prayer.
"I'm coming, Mummy," she whispered.
Then came the unmistakable scrape of a blade dragging along the earth. Raven clenched her jaw as she imagined the executioner holding the machete aloft, savoring the weight of it, relishing the moment.
She braced herself. She imagined the pain. She imagined the nothingness after. She squeezed her eyes shut, ready to leap into the great void when suddenly…
"STOP!"
Raven's eyes flew open, but she didn't dare move. Her head was still on the stump, after all, and she was trying not to get an early start on the afterlife by accidental twitch. But she heard it. The voice was deep and commanding. With a rich, gravelly tone that could convince a girl to do things… dangerous things. And undeniably sexy.
"What do you think you're doing, Lira?" the voice asked, more growl than question.
"Alpha!" Lira gasped, the sudden tremor in her voice betraying her surprise. "You're back! We didn't expect you back so soon…"
Raven almost snorted. No kidding. She could practically hear Lira's brain scrambling to rewrite the night's events in real-time.
She listened intently, trying to imagine this mysterious alpha. He sounded tall. Definitely tall. Probably had a five o'clock shadow, strong arms. Definitely had alpha energy.
Raven didn't dare lift her head yet, but hope crept into her chest. Maybe she wasn't going to die tonight. Maybe she would live long enough to eat again, maybe even meet this dangerously voiced man and tell him just how awful his pack's hospitality was.
Or maybe she'd still die, but at least someone finally interrupted the worst party she'd ever been to.
"Thank God I did," the man growled, storming into the clearing. "What is going on here? Why the hell is this girl's head on the chopping block about to be executed?"
Girl? Raven thought, blinking slowly as her head still rested awkwardly on the log. Did he just call me a girl? I'm almost twenty-one.
In fact, her birthday was only a few days away, April third, if that big old calendar in the abandoned restaurant hadn't been lying. She remembered the place well. It used to be a high-end joint, with champagne flutes and overpriced meals. Now it stank of moldy upholstery. But the mechanical calendar still worked. After ten years of no maintenance, no electricity grid, no human affection, just pure, stubborn hardwork. The thing deserved a trophy.
Lira stepped forward stiffly. "Alpha, she was caught beating up Cyril," she said. "He's still unconscious… healing from his wounds."
"I didn't do it!" Raven shouted, her words muffled by the awkward, splintery angle of her face still pressed to the chopping block.
"Get her to her feet," the Alpha commanded.
The men hoisted her up roughly, though now with a touch more hesitation. Possibly because they were worried about what their alpha might do if they accidentally ripped her arm out of its socket. She stood, albeit wobbly, with one eye nearly swollen shut and dried blood painting a morbid mural down her chin. Her body ached in places she hadn't known could ache. She was a bruised excuse of a human being.
Then she looked up at him.
Oh. Oh no.
Even with one good eye, she could see it, he was stupidly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, brown hair and tousled. Disappointingly, he was wearing a shirt. His voice had already sounded like cool chocolate on a hot tongue, but now that she could see the packaging? Damn.