Chapter 4 The Accusation

Branches tore at my arms. My lungs were burning. I didn't know how long I'd been running-minutes, maybe hours-but I couldn't stop. Not with blood in my mouth and a dagger-wound screaming behind me. Not when I knew they'd still be hunting me.

The cursed Lycan King's guards weren't the type to take no for an answer.

I skidded to a halt when the scent hit me.

Not the Lycan guards.

Different.

Clean-cut uniforms. Crisp. Precise.

Military.

I ducked behind a tree, narrowed my eyes through the thick brush-and my heart dropped.

Black combat uniforms. Crest of the Blood moon Pack. Weapons polished and loaded.

Dylan's private army.

A low curse slipped from my lips.

What the hell does he want now?

I turned to double back, but it was too late. Ten of them emerged from the trees like shadows. Trained. Coordinated. Blocking all sides.

The leader stepped forward. Tall. Shaved head. An annoying kind of smug confidence on his face.

"Quinn Campbell," he barked. "By orders of Alpha Dylan Winsley, you are to be restrained and returned to the pack house immediately."

I froze.

He had the audacity to send his damn army after me?

After everything he'd done-dumping me, humiliating me, lying to my face?

"What the hell does Dylan want with me?" I growled, backing away, eyes darting for an opening.

"Orders are orders," the man said, raising his hand. "Cuff her."

I braced myself to shift, to fight, to claw my way out if I had to-

And then I heard a sharp thunk.

The commander's body jerked forward.

A dagger protruded from his chest.

He gasped. Blood soaked his uniform. Then he fell to the ground with a loud thud.

The soldiers froze. So did I.

I turned slowly toward the direction it came from.

And there they were.

The cursed Lycan King's soldiers-five of them-stalking out from the shadows like death itself. The one in front twirled another dagger in his hand, eyes like steel.

"For someone cursed," I muttered, "his men sure love showing up at the worst possible time."

The leader's voice was calm, but cold. "She's ours. No one touches her."

One of Dylan's soldiers raised his weapon. "You're on Blood Moon's territory. That girl's under Alpha Dylan's command."

"I don't care whose territory this is," the Lycan growled. "She belongs to the King."

"I belong to no one," I snapped, stepping back. "And if any of you come close, I'll gut you all."

Neither side moved.

The air was thick.

One heartbeat.

Two.

And then hell broke loose.

Gunfire erupted. Wolves shifted mid-air. Fangs clashed with steel. Blood sprayed the trees like rain.

I ducked, rolling under a body as two soldiers collided above me. A snarl ripped through the air as a Lycan soldier crushed an Arledge man's skull with a single blow.

Another Blood Moon's guard tried to grab me-I stabbed him in the thigh and kicked his face.

But they kept coming.

Steel clanged.

Bones cracked.

I saw one of the Lycan soldiers get impaled by a silver-tipped spear.

"No!" I yelled-but he was gone, throat slit before he hit the ground.

The Lycan men fought like demons, but they were outnumbered.

And Dylan's army? Ruthless.

The last Lycan dropped, bleeding out in the dirt.

I didn't even have a chance to scream before cold cuffs snapped around my wrists.

"Stop struggling," someone hissed behind me.

I kicked and twisted, but it was no use. Four of them held me down.

"You bastards are dead," I spat. "When the cursed King finds out-"

"The King?" one of them sneered. "He's cursed, remember? He doesn't scare us."

They dragged me toward their SUV like a piece of trash.

I didn't cry.

I didn't beg.

But inside me, my wolf was clawing to the surface, screaming murder.

I was chained, gagged, and tossed into the backseat like a criminal.

And the worst part?

I didn't even know why.

-

The palace was already packed when we arrived.

I didn't understand at first-until I saw the crowd outside, the whispers, the tension in the air.

Something's wrong.

They yanked me through the gates, through the grand hall, into the throne room.

I expected silence.

I got gasps. Disgust. And more pity.

The room was filled-pack elders, guards, omegas, Alphas from allied packs.

Everyone.

And then I saw him.

Dylan.

Standing beside the throne like a smug king himself, dressed in his ceremonial armor, lips pressed in a hard line like this whole thing pained him.

He looked bothered.

Like I was the one ruining his day.

Bastard.

The guards forced me to kneel in front of the throne.

The elder council stood nearby. And the former Luna-Dylan's mother-watched me like I was something foul stuck to her shoe.

Then the elder with the staff stepped forward and raised his voice.

"Quinn Campbell, daughter of Mr Gregory Campbell and Sharlene Campbell, you have been brought before this court on the charge of murder."

I blinked.

The room shifted under my feet.

"What?" I breathed.

"Specifically, the murder of former Alpha Tristan Winsley," he added.

The air left my lungs.

No... no. No, this isn't happening.

"Are you insane?" I barked. "I didn't kill anyone!"

The crowd murmured.

Dylan stepped forward, eyes cold. "The night of my father's death, you were the last to leave his office. His guards reported your presence, and the time of death was shortly after."

"You son of a-"

"We also found traces of your scent and blood on the scene," the elder continued.

"I was injured!" I yelled. "I cut my damn hand on the bannister that night!"

The room didn't care. They already made up their minds.

I turned to Dylan, shaking. "You know I didn't kill your father. You KNOW."

He didn't answer. He just stared at me like I was dirt.

"You used me," I said through clenched teeth. "You never loved me. You just used me to get your father's trust, and now you're framing me for his death?"

"You betrayed the pack," he said.

"You betrayed me."

No one said a word.

The elder turned back to the crowd. "By pack law, a crime of this nature-committed against an Alpha-requires immediate judgment and sentence."

My throat was dry. I wanted to scream. To shift. To tear every one of them apart.

"You're all mad if you think I'm just going to sit here and let you-"

"ENOUGH!" Dylan snapped. "Quinn Campbell, you are hereby sentenced to death for high treason and the murder of Alpha Tristan Winsley."

The crowd gasped. Some nodded. Some looked away.

I let out a cold, bitter laugh. "Then you better do it yourself, Dylan. Let's see how brave you really are."

Dylan turned to the guards. "Throw her in the dungeon until the execution is prepared."

They grabbed me again.

As I was dragged out of the throne room, I stared straight at Dylan.

And smiled.

"You'll regret this."