Page 120 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
I hear footsteps once again. I quickly gather the ropes into a pile and lie down in front of them in the same position I was in before.
“Guard the cell. The trial is in an hour. We don’t want him coming and ruining everything.”
“Understood.”
It’s the woman again. This time, she’s here with someone else. I don’t dare open my eyes in case they’re watching me.
A trial. But for what?
No matter what it’s for, I have a feeling I won’t be able to get out of here in time to avoid it.
Not unless Lucian finds me first.
My heart sinks.
Where are you, Lucian?
The bucket of icy water hits me out of the blue, stealing my breath and sending shock waves through my already aching body. I gasp and sputter, my eyes flying open as the freezing liquid soaks through my clothes and pools on the stone floor beneath me.
“Time to go, prisoner.”
The guard’s voice is harsh, unsympathetic. I blink the water from my eyes, trying to focus as two sets of hands grab my arms and haul me to my feet. My legs nearly buckle; I’ve been sittingin this cell for hours, and the cold has seeped deep into my bones.
Somebody is binding my wrists again. At least they’re not asking how I got out of my original restraints.
“Where—” I start to ask, but one of the guards shoves me forward before I can finish the question.
“Move.”
They drag me out of the cell, my bare feet slipping on the wet stone. The corridor is dimly lit by torches mounted on the walls, casting eerie shadows that make everything look sinister and threatening. We pass other cells, all of them empty, their iron bars like black teeth in the flickering light.
My heart pounds against my ribs as we climb a winding, stone staircase. Each step takes us higher, and gradually, the rough-hewn walls give way to more refined surroundings. The torches are replaced by elegant sconces. The floors become polished marble that reflects the light.
I’m in a palace.
The realization hits me like another bucket of cold water. This isn’t some random kidnapping. This isn’t Alpha Gareth’s crude justice. This is something much, much worse.
We reach a massive set of double doors carved with intricate designs—wolves running beneath a full moon, their eyes inlaid with what looks like real silver. The guards don’t hesitate; they push the doors open and shove me inside.
The throne room is massive.
That’s my first thought as I’m dragged across the shiny, marble floor. Soaring ceilings disappear into shadows above, supported by columns that could probably hold up mountains. Stained glass windows stretch from floor to ceiling, casting colored light across the space in brilliant reds, blues, and golds.
But it’s not the architecture that makes my blood freeze. It’s the people.
Dozens of them line the walls—nobles in fine clothing, their faces cold and curious as they watch me being hauled before their king. Their stares are like a physical weight, pressing down on me, judging me. Their whispers follow my stumbling progress across the room.
“Is that her?”
“She looks so ordinary.”
“What did she do?”
“Pathetic little thing.”
The words slice through me, but I keep my chin up. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not yet.
At the far end of the room sits a throne carved from black stone that seems to absorb the light around it. The man sitting on it commands attention even from this distance, with his silver hair, sharp features, and eyes that could cut glass. Even weakened by age, his authority fills the entire space.
