Chapter 5

The Ultimatum of Dawn

The night dragged like an endless blade against my throat.

Every tick of silence pressed down heavier, every creak of the dungeon sounding like the echo of a clock counting down to my death.

Tomorrow. At dawn.

I sat against the wall, arms curled tight around myself. My wolf paced restlessly, ears pinned back, growling low. She didn’t fear death—but she feared being torn from him.

And that terrified me more than the execution itself.

Because some part of me, Goddess help me, didn’t want to be freed from him.

---

The footsteps came hours later. Heavy. Familiar.

I lifted my head, expecting Damon.

It wasn’t him.

A tall figure in a hood appeared at my cell door. Cold steel eyes and sharp cheekbones were visible in the torchlight.

He leaned closer, whispering through the bars. “You don’t belong here.”

My heart stuttered. “Who are you?”

“A friend,” he said, though his voice carried no warmth. “Or perhaps just someone who hates Damon more than you do.”

I pressed closer. “Then help me.”

He smirked faintly. “Escape? No. That would be suicide. But you should know—there are those in this pack who would rather you die before dawn. Damon’s blade is not your only threat.”

My blood ran cold. “Why?”

“Because of who you are,” he murmured, eyes glinting. “Because of where you come from.”

I froze. “You know?”

But before I could press further, his head snapped up. Footsteps. The shift of dominance in the air.

He slipped back into the shadows, gone.

A moment later—Damon.

He came like a storm, cloak brushing the ground, silver eyes blazing as they locked onto me. His presence filled the corridor, drowning out the world.

“Still awake?” His voice was smooth, but edged.

I forced my chin high. “Hard to sleep when someone schedules your death.”

His jaw twitched. He unlocked the door with deliberate slowness, stepping inside. The space shrank instantly, his scent filling my lungs, cedar and storm.

I pressed back against the wall. “What do you want now?”

“Truth,” he said, voice low. "The only thing that will sustain you."

I laughed bitterly. “You want truth, Damon? Fine. I’m your mate.”

The word cracked between us like thunder.

His eyes darkened, his wolf pushing forward, visible in the sharp set of his jaw, the sudden rise of his chest.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

“No.” My voice shook, but I forced steel into it. “You already feel it. You know it. That’s the only truth I have.”

He crossed the space in a flash, gripping my chin, forcing my gaze to his. The bond sparked, searing, my body trembling with its force.

His voice was a growl. “I don’t want a mate.”

“Too bad,” I whispered. “The Goddess doesn’t care what you want.”

For a long, brutal moment, silence burned between us. His hand trembled against my skin—not from weakness, but from restraint.

Then he released me, spinning away, shoving his hands into his hair like he could tear the bond out.

“You will drive me mad.”

“Good,” I snapped. “Now you know how I feel.”

His laughter was harsh, bitter. He turned back, eyes gleaming with danger.

“At dawn,” he said softly, “you will stand before me. Either you give me the truth of your past… or I sever this bond the only way I can.”

My throat tightened. “By killing me.”

“Yes.”

Something inside of me was broken by the finality in his voice.

He left without another word, the iron door slamming shut.

---

Hours bled away. I sat in the dark, mind racing. The hooded man’s warning echoed in my head—they’ll kill you before dawn. Who was he? What did he mean by where I came from?

The answer hovered at the edges of memory, buried deep in the night, my old pack was slaughtered.

I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching my wolf close. We can’t die here, not like this.

When the guards arrived, the first rays of dawn filtered through the dungeon's crevices.

They dragged me out, my wrists bound, the cold bite of iron digging into my skin.

Up the stone steps, out into the courtyard where the pack had gathered. The air was heavy, thick with anticipation. Wolves lined the edges, whispering, snarling, waiting for blood.

And there he was.

Damon stood at the center, dressed in black, the rising sun igniting his silver eyes. Alpha. Executioner. Mate.

My knees nearly buckled at the sight of him.

The guards shoved me forward until I stood before him, the crowd restless behind us.

Damon’s gaze locked on mine, unreadable.

“Speak,” he commanded.

I swallowed, the world narrowing to this moment.

My truth, or my death.

My wolf howled inside me, demanding I claim him, demand I live.

“I…” My voice cracked.

And then—

A shout cut through the air.

“She’s the survivor!”

The crowd erupted. Wolves snarled, voices shouting. “Kill her!” “She carries cursed blood!” “Don’t let her live!”

My stomach dropped.

With a flash of rage, Damon's head snapped toward the crowd. “Silence!”.

But the damage was done.

Every eye turned on me. Every secret I had buried now clawed its way to the surface.

And I realized, with a bone-deep chill—my past had found me.