Chapter Thirty
Elle's POV

It was cold in the cell made of stone. 

Once again, in the rotting cells, where bones remained shackled to the walls, time seemed to stand still. They'd shoved us into separate cells next to each other. Our legs were chained to the walls, but we could reach each other through the bars if we stretched a little.

Guards waited outside our cells, watching us waste away day by day. They were cruel and spoke nasty things about the packs, but they brought light into the darkness, and for that, I was grateful.

They didn't speak of our trial, and as time passed, it felt like we were waiting for our impending doom. We were fed scraps from their meals and water that made us sick, and when fever struck Kendra, they did nothing. I was forced to listen to her whimpers of pain.

The sound tore through me, eating away at my sanity, and now the only thoughts that crossed my mind were those of escape and survival. For her, I sacrificed my water to ensure that she stayed hydrated. Not sure if it helped or made things worse.

I didn't know how many hours had passed, how many days, but noise, louder than that of the change of guard, travelled down the passageway.

The Beta arrived, flicking his wrists towards our holdings, and the guards scrambled forward into our cells.

'Elliot Clarke and Kendra Mcgarth are summoned to the Umbra courts as crucial evidence in the Clarke case. Any resistance on their behalf will be construed as guilt and can be used in the court as evidence against them.'

Cold metal cuffs clamped around my wrists just moments before the chains around my ankles fell to the ground with a severe clank. The handcuffs were too tight and painful as they rubbed against my wrists. I didn't complain as the guards marched us down the tunnels. I kept my head high and my expression neutral, ready to face my future.

***

We were hauled into an old, grime-covered refectory, the metal of my chains burning rings of red onto my wrists, bruises darkening my skin from rough hands.

The refectory was filled with members of the Umbra pack, old and young, about fifty of them stamping their feet as the guards paraded us to the middle of the room. We were brought to the inner circle and restrained to our seats, where the guards rattled our chains. The room roared with anticipation, but as they dropped our manacles to the ground, they fell silent.

There was a minute of silence, overshadowed by their dark attire, almost like the mourning at a funeral. They hung their heads with a reverence that wasn't deserved because those they grieved for were the downfall that had become them. Lachlan was the only one deserving of their silence because he hadn't died for his sins.

The quiet spell that had befallen the pack was broken by a man who walked up, a robe sweeping around his feet as he entered the room.

The hem of his robe kicked up the dust, and those around us cleared their throats, sniffling away unwanted interjections, and then, like a scene from medieval times, he unwound a commemorative scroll and read aloud the list of the dead.

'Alpha Archer Thomms. May he rest in peace.'

His tone held a reverence that echoed through the air, and the room burst into sorrowful song as the pack stomped their feet, howling together.

'Luna Sarah Thomms, may she rest in peace.' The respect for the Luna was as strong as it had been for the alpha, but it died off as he listed the others. 'Tim Thomms. Lachlan Thomms. Ferrah Imblea. Ricard Glossly. Ean Qippel. George Osen.'

They continued stampeding, paying their respects to those who would not return. Their howls grew louder as a woman slowly stepped forward. She was dressed similarly to the Beta, only her robe was blood-red, and the sleeves of her gown were pushed back to accommodate the metal platter she carried delicately, like a bouquet at a wedding.

She set the gold platter onto a pedestal, offering the contents to the pack in an elegant presentation. Six vials of clear syrup rested in the dish of the tray with a syringe already loaded with liquid.

The roar of the pack lasted until warriors brought forth five prisoners, throwing them onto the concrete before us. The constrained prisoners floundered, the white rope tied tightly around their limbs, so severely bound that their skin puckered, turning a purple shade similar to a turnip's skin.

A burlap sack hid their faces, much like Tim had hidden mine, but a familiarity with one of them left me breathless.

Two leather boots faded into a tannish suede.

Scuffed, worn to the bare thread jeans.

A beige button-down.

And dumb bangles, handcrafted ten years ago.

Mum!

I fought against my chains, picking and pulling until the cuffs tore at my skin, and the room fell silent. 'What are you doing!' I cried.

The warriors approached them where they lay, and they lifted the blindfolds. I couldn't look away, breathing quickly. She refused to look at me, her eyes turned towards the hatred from the pack, unflinching as though she'd stared down the barrel of this gun before.

Her stare elicited a rumble, rules governed the pack's actions, but some couldn't hold back their rage, snarling towards the hunters with malicious intent.

'SILENCE!'

A hush settled over the room, and I could pinpoint the rasp of my mother's breath in the crowd. The room started to crawl, black dots moving across the walls, jumping from the stone and burrowing into my eyes, blinding me.

The black bugs brought with them a high-pitched buzz that deafened me, leaving me blinded for all but one spot. She was all I could see, cowering with defiance as she held the eye of the Beta, steady and with no remorse.

He paced before her, his anger directed towards her defiance. He addressed the pack, gesturing wildly angrily, his eyes darting around the room, an unnatural glint buried deep in their darkness.

Though most of his words were muffled by the whine of the blackness, some words broke through, unable to be restrained from my ears.

'...past twenty years...'

'...killed ten Umbra wolves...'

'...yes or no!'

Desperate for their response, the black bugs crawled to the recesses of my brain, and the room sharpened with stunning clarity, each sound crystalised, each syllable perfectly spoken.

The room was focused on my parents.

Mum wouldn't look my way, but I caught Dad under the intensity of my stare, capturing him as he scanned the room. He couldn't look away once he started. He found only anger and disgust in my stare, but he was unwavering, and fear began to creep into the darkness of his eyes as realisation loomed over him.

The bata slammed his hand onto the table, the glass vials rattling gravely. He didn't notice, rage rumbling within his chest.

'DO YOU DENY IT?'

The man crumbled under his daughter's eyes, falling as I refused to look away. At first, his whole body drew tight with tension, but then as the reality hit him, he slumped, closing his eyes, refusing to acknowledge me as he whispered, 'no.'

'Charged with ten counts of murder,' the Beta stated so quickly it was as though he were afraid someone would stop him before the words were spoken, 'identification fraud, and countless other deeds, I now sentence you to death. How do you plead?'

It wasn't my father he was asking, but rather the woman in red, whose face remained impartial, expressionless as she echoed my father's sentiment.

'Guilty.

She lifted the syringe from the tray and approached my father. Two guards forced him onto his knees, and she smeared ashes across his forehead in a cross, a sign of death.

It happened quickly.

She pressed the syringe into his flesh, the needle buried into his neck.

I cried, struggling against the chains that tied me to my seat, pleading for his life.

My words weren't acknowledged, and she injected the syrup into his body. They left him where he fell, moving around the circle, marking the hunters for death moments before making good on their promise, felling them quickly, without remorse.

My screams were drowned out by the thunderous roar that shook the room.

She was last, still unable to look at me.

It wasn't until they marked her for her death, ashes smeared across her forehead, that she turned her eyes towards me. Her eyes were darkened by disgust, hardened with steel.

'Why?' I snivelled, praying it had all just been a nightmare.

They reloaded the syrup, but she didn't turn away, the words erupting from her chest with a growl. 'We do what we do because they have invaded our lives and threatened our children. They are an infestation, and it is up to us to fix this disease.'

I let my chains slacken, her words burning in my ears. They were the words of someone filled with their own kind of sickness, not the words of the mother I remembered loving.

It would never be possible to know how many people had fallen to the words of pain that she had spread like a virus. How many had died because my mother had told them the same words she told me?

I'd grown up in a town that equalised werewolves, accepting them as part of society and welcoming them even. I'd grown up sheltered from the reality around me. Someone I loved had been so entrenched in past rhetoric that she could not view them as people. She couldn't see that her actions were far worse than the lies she believed.

I didn't look away as the red woman approached her. She hardly deserved respect, but it was hard to stop loving someone you had loved your entire life. I held back a sob, the needle embedded into her ivory skin. I didn't allow myself to cry until she fell, a shell of a woman, and then I watched through my tears as blood swelled at the needle point.

I broke apart as her body fell limp. I sobbed freely, snot and tears slickening my face, and my chains rattled in tune with my hands. 'I'm sorry,' I wept. 'I'm so sorry.'