The heavy grip of the soldier's hand clamped around my wrist like a shackle, pulling me forward through the endless stone corridors of the fortress. His fingers dug into my skin, rough and unyielding, as though he wanted to bruise me on purpose—to mark me as a criminal before I even stood trial. My chest heaved with every step, but I forced myself not to stumble, not to show weakness. Not anymore. Still, my heart thudded against my ribs as he dragged me through the grand corridors of the Lycan palace.
The marble floors gleamed under the golden torchlight, and every step echoed like a hammer striking judgment. The echoes of our footsteps rang off the ancient walls, each strike of his boots against the polished stone sounding like a gavel pronouncing my guilt.
The soldier—he was a beta, I
