Soraya's POV
I sat curled on the cold stone floor of my cell, counting the minutes in my head as though that would slow them down. The silence of the dungeon pressed around me, broken only by the occasional drip of water somewhere in the distance. My stomach twisted painfully, reminding me I hadn't eaten since today, but hunger felt almost irrelevant. What was the point of eating when I was hours away from execution?
The sound of the heavy dungeon door creaking open made my heart leap into my throat. My wolf tensed, ears pricking, ready for whatever was coming. Footsteps echoed, slow but deliberate, until a familiar scent hit me — warm, powerful, achingly familiar.
Ethan.
He stopped in front of my cell without saying a word. In his hand was a tray of food, steam curling faintly from the bowl. He crouched down and pushed it under the bars toward me.
I didn't move.
Even though my stomach screamed for it, I stayed exactly where I was, my arms wrapped tightly around myself.
