Deaths Consort His Destined Queen

"You.. you... you monster, " Eleanor stuttered out in horror, pointing accusingly at me. I had frozen over the bleeding guest who had puncture wounds almost all over his neck. Blood gushed out in spurts from the holes of wounds.

A series of loud gasps filled the air immediately as the crowd of curious onlookers got to the scene.

An older gentleman with kind eyes, a doctor from a neighbouring pack, rushed forward to attempt to help the vile man on the floor.

He shook his head lightly. "The punctures run through some arteries. I'm afraid he's cold."

I took a sharp intake of air. I had momentarily forgotten to breathe. The fear that had gripped me had made me lose all senses of flight.

He cleaned his bloody hands with his handkerchief and ran his fingers through his hair as he stood up, his eyes finding Eleanor's, before turning to quickly glance at me quizzically. I remained still, frozen over in shock.

The not-so-tiny ivory knitting hook was still in my grip. My eyes were unfocused and wide as I shivered in the cold night.

A clanking of metals sounded from somewhere close by. I wanted to run, to disappear.

"Whack!" my cheeks turned sharply and harshly grated against the cold rough floor as a heavy slap effectively forced my eyes open from the tormenting memory.

My throat was so dry and parched that I couldn't make a sound without scorching pain. Hence, my instant regret at the gasp that tore through my throat at the harsh awakening. "It's time, you piece of filth," a guard drawled leisurely.

Pain radiated through my cheek to my jaw and neck, and I moved my hand to soothe it.

The guard who lurked over me sneered disdainfully as if I had wronged him all his life and tugged my hair, dragging me out of the cell. More pain clouded my senses and my vision blurred.

But none of that compared to the ache in my chest. I felt bitter and pained. Maybe if my mother had not abandoned me, nor was I sold to McCarthy, then perhaps, I would not be in this situation.

I have been loathed all my life in this pack. I was the household slave and was treated just like that.

As to what warranted the hate, I have no idea. It had been present for as far back as I could remember.

I kept my head down while he literally dragged me out of the cell and through the long corridors to the pack square, which was a few furlongs away from the training field.

"Death is too easy for, you witch" "This despicable thing should not have been allowed in the pack in the first place"

"I wonder how Anna survived breathing in the same environment as her" "Ew, I can't even imagine it"

"McCarthy should have sold her to some rogues years back." "Maybe, I mean, poor Sydney might still be alive"

"Can you believe what I heard? They said she claimed Sydney wanted to rape her" "Hahaha, girl, you're kidding, right?? This piece of borrowed shit?? No fucking way!"

"I said the same thing. I would have dropped my panties in a second if Sydney so much as looked at me for even 5 seconds!"

"PST, I would have jumped him if he had ever looked my way for just a second! Damn! All that hotness just laid to waste!" "By a scumb-"

Elder Anton raised his hand to silence the excited crowd when the guard finally threw me in front of the scaffold. My knees scratched the wooden floors and started bleeding immediately.

My heartbeat skyrocketed, and my palms became sweaty. This Elder didn't seem to like me much compared to the other Elders.

When they came to investigate my unfortunate accident the day before, he insinuated that I was sent by an enemy pack to probably kill McCarthy, and that was likely why I was caught on the compound by Sydney who tried to stop me and ended up my victim.

After his statement, none of the Elders seemed to believe anything I said. Why would they?

"As you all know, we are all gathered here to serve justice to the family of Sydney Garrett, who was brutally murdered without cause," my head snapped up at those words, and my eyes bored directly into his briefly.

The anxiety, pain and fear I felt earlier grew into morbid anger. I clenched my tiny fists and wished I had an inkling of strength. I would have wiped out this entire pack.