Chapter 62
Chapter 62
The dungeon is colder tonight. Maybe it’s just me, but the air feels tighter, like the stone walls soaked up all the screaming Camilla did earlier and it’s still vibrating somewhere under my skin. The torches along the corridor flicker weakly, barely pushing back the shadows.
One guard stands at the far end–straight spine, neutral face, eyes pretending they’re not following my every move. Good. I don’t need an audience.
Camilla sits in the middle of her cell at first, back braced against the wall, arms loose over her bent knees, staring at the floor like she’s meditating on how many ways she wants to peel me alive.
I step closer, stopping just a foot from the silver bars. The metal reflects the torchlight with that faint greenish sheen silver always has down here. You’d think she’d keep her distance from something that burns her, but Camilla has never been the logical type.
Especially not now, stripped of her power, her hair wild around Her shoulders, her pupils blown wide like she’s running on spite alone.
Her head snaps up the second she registers my scent. She rises so fast she nearly slips. Then she storms toward me, gripping the bars without hesitation. The silver hisses against her palms instantly–red flashes over her skin, the smell of burning flesh hitting my nose.
She doesn’t even flinch.
“You stalking me now?” I ask, tone flat, because one of us has to pretend they’re sane.
Her lips twist. “Why are you here, Sorin? To gloat?” Her voice cracks with something ugly–panic, desperation, delusion, all stirred up like poison in a pot. “Or did you come to watch me rot the same way you once did p>
There it is. The button she thinks will hurt me.
But I refuse to give her my pain.
I fold my arms instead. “You chose this cell, Camilla. Every day. Every choice that led you here? That was you. So tell me― was sabotaging the event worth it? Was it worth losing Rosaline? Or did you carve her out of your life that easily too p>
She slams her burnt palm harder against the bar. The sizzle cuts through the corridor. Her voice drops lower, more unhinged. “I’m going to get out. And when I do, I’m going to kill you p>
It’s almost comical–how certain she is, how she leans close like she wants to breathe the threat right into my mouth. But under it, a faint memory stirs–me in a cell like this, just months ago, cold chains on my wrists, Wade outside the bars calling me a traitor while the bitch who framed me clung to his side pretending to be pure.
The memory flickers.
And dies.
Because I didn’t put myself there.
Camilla put herself here.
And she doesn’t get to rewrite anyone’s history but her own.
“Threats are boring,” I say, tilting my head slightly. “You want me dead, fine. Get in line. But next time, at least try being original p>
Her lip curls. “You think you’re untouchable because you spread your legs for the King p>
1/4
Chapter 62
My jaw tightens. Not because the words hurt, but because of how goddamn predictable she is. “You really want to talk about legs spreading, Camilla? Because you bribed an omega into poisoning the King so you could stand where I’m standing right
now. ”
Her eyes flare, and for a moment she looks–actually–afraid.
Good.
I step back from the bars, not because she scares me, but because I’m done donating my oxygen to her.
“Guard,” I call.
The man straightens instantly.
“Give her water and food. Proper food.” I flick my gaze back to Camilla, whose breaths are turning short and wild. “She was Luna once. Treat her with a shred of dignity p>
Her laugh is brittle. “Playing saint now p>
I walk away before she finishes the second half of her sentence.
But her voice follows me, dripping with venom. “Prepare yourself, Sorin. You think you’ve healed, but I know what holes look like. You’re still bleeding p>
I stop moving.
But before I turn around–before I can even open my mouth–I hear the low, steady thump of boots behind me.
Alaric.
He doesn’t rush. He never does. He walks like the world rearranges itself to accommodate him. The guard straightens again, but his attention isn’t on anyone but me.
“You alright?” he asks, his tone deep and so controlled it almost sounds gentle.
Almost.
I nod once. “She’s just trying to be relevant p>
Alaric steps to my side, his presence pressing warm and solid against my shoulder. He doesn’t look at me first; he looks at Camilla. But not with anger or satisfaction.
Indifference.
Which might be worse.
Camilla drops back from the bars, suddenly remembering she’s made of flesh and he’s made of something much, much harder to kill.
I breathe out slowly. “Let’s go p>
We leave the dungeon; the air thickens the farther we walk from the cells, the stone walls stretching into the staircase that leads up into the main corridor. The shift from cold dungeon air to warmer hall air feels almost too gentle compared to what’s happening inside my chest.
When we reach the landing, Alaric finally speaks. “You saw yourself in her p>
I stiffen. He catches everything.
2/4
Chapter 62
“Maybe,” I admit quietly.
His hand brushes the small of my back, possessive in a way that should irritate me but doesn’t. “You’re nothing like her. And nothing that happened to you will ever happen again. Not while I’m breathing p>
“That sounds like a threat to the universe p>
“It is p>
I sigh, half amused. “We’re still going to Woodridge Pack p>
“You don’t have to p>
“I do p>
He studies me for a long second, then nods. “Very well p>
We walk the rest of the way in silence.
The bedroom is softer than the halls–dark blue curtains pulled back just a little to let the night air slip in. I change into something looser, climb into bed, let my body sink into the mattress.
I’m almost asleep when the bed dips behind me.
I jerk upright. “Why–why are you in my bed p>
Alaric grunts like the question itself is offensive. “I want to sleep with you p>
“That’s it p>
“Yes.” He slides under the blanket, wraps an arm around my waist, pulls me back until my spine fits against his chest. His face presses into my stomach, his hair brushing my skin. His arm tightens like he’s anchoring himself to me. “Stop fighting p>
“I’m not fighting.” I stroke the back of his head lazily. “You’re clingy p>
“Mm.” He doesn’t deny it. His hand drags lower on my waist, drifting. Searching. I catch his wrist.
“Alaric. Early morning. Travel. Remember p>
He exhales through his nose but he stops. Settles. The weight of him behind me is heavy and warm and annoyingly comforting.
He sleeps.
I don’t.
Not fully.
Something pulls me awake hours later–cold air across my arm. The window is wide open now. The curtains sway. Moonlight cuts a slanted line across the floor.
Then I feel it.
A shift in the air behind me.
3/4
Too fast. Too quiet.
Before I can turn, a rough arm clamps across my chest, yanking me upright. Another hand covers my mouth. The smell hits me—iron, leather, old sweat. Not pack. Not anyone who belongs here.
My pulse stays steady. “Who sent you?” I ask against his palm, my voice muffled but calm.
He drags me back against him. “Your death is all that matters.” His breath hits my neck, damp and sour. “She wants you back in a cell where you belong p>
Camilla.
Predictable bitch.
“How much did she pay?” I ask. “Tell me and I’ll give you triple p>
He laughs quietly. “Money isn’t the point p>
I start to turn my head–and freeze when his voice stops abruptly, just stops.
His grip slackens.
His breath cuts off.
I feel the shift behind him before I see it.
Slowly, I turn my head enough to glimpse over his shoulder.
Alaric stands beside the bed–shirtless, blood smeared across his chest, eyes burning gold. His arm is outstretched.
In his hand-
Shit…
It’s the assassin’s heart.
Still beating.
The man holding me is already dead.
And Alaric looks like he’s deciding whether to drop the heart…
… or come for whoever dared breathe near me next.
4/4
AD
Comment
Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.