Alpha Rolan’s POV
The crowd was hushed, their collective breath hanging in the air like the tension that gripped my chest. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting an orange glow over the courtyard where Griffin was bound to the stake.
I stood at the edge of the gathering, my heart pounding as the final moments unfolded before me. Griffin’s hands were tied above his head, his wrists bound tight with thick rope.
He didn’t struggle, not anymore. His face, once proud and defiant, was now a mask of resignation. The flames hadn’t been lit yet, but the air around us was thick with the anticipation of death.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to speak as I turned to face the pack. Hundreds of eyes stared back at me, a sea of familiar faces now twisted with confusion, disbelief, and sadness.
They had never expected this. Neither had I if I was being honest with myself.
“I know this is hard to witness,” I began, my voice steady but heavy with the weight of the words I had to say. “Griffin was once my most trusted ally, my right hand in all matters of this kingdom. But he betrayed that trust. He plotted behind our backs, schemed for power that was not his to take, and in doing so, he murdered those who stood in his way.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some had already known. Others looked as though they were hearing it for the first time. The shock was palpable, their eyes flickering between me and the man at the stake.
It was unthinkable to them. Griffin had been a constant presence in the court, someone they had looked to for guidance and strength. But treason knows no loyalty, not even to the most sacred of bonds.
“He is responsible for the deaths of innocents,” I continued, my gaze hardening. “And last night, under the full moon, he tried to kill me.”
The pack’s reaction was swift. Gasps, whispers, disbelieving stares. I could feel their confusion, their turmoil. How could someone so close to me have fallen so far?
I had asked myself the same question a thousand times. But the answer didn’t matter anymore. What mattered now was justice.
Pandora’s hand tightened around mine, her presence a steady anchor in this storm. She didn’t speak, there was no need to, but her silent support was the only thing keeping me standing.
She knew how much this moment weighed on me, how the idea of burning Griffin alive turned my stomach, even if he had earned it.
The executioner stepped forward, a lit torch in his hand. The flames danced in the dimming light, casting a flicker of orange across the faces of the gathered pack. Griffin stood motionless, his eyes staring into the distance, his fate already sealed.
“May this serve as a reminder to all of us,” I said, raising my voice so that every last person could hear me. “Betrayal will not be tolerated. Not within our ranks. Not within this pack.”
With that, I gave the signal, a small nod to the executioner. The torch was brought to the base of the stake, and the flames licked hungrily at the dry wood.
The fire grew quickly, the heat radiating outward as the flames crackled and spread. For a brief moment, the courtyard was silent, the only sound the roar of the growing fire. And then the screaming began.
Griffin’s voice, once so calm and calculating, was now twisted with agony. His body writhed as the flames consumed him, but the ropes held him fast.
His screams filled the air, a terrible, haunting sound that reverberated through my bones. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to push the sound out of my mind, but it was useless.
Camila’s soft sobbing reached my ears, pulling me from the daze. She stood just behind the crowd, her shoulders shaking as tears streamed down her face.
Pandora noticed her too and, without a word, released my hand and went to her. I watched as she gently laid a hand on Camila’s shoulder, offering comfort in the way only Pandora could.
The flames roared higher, and Griffin’s screams began to fade, replaced by the crackling of the fire. The crowd remained silent, watching in a horrified stillness as the execution ran its course.
I kept my eyes forward, refusing to look away. This was my doing. My responsibility. And I would not shy away from the consequences of my judgment.
Back in my study, the silence was unbearable. The weight of what I had done pressed down on me, suffocating in its intensity. The fire outside had long since burned out, but its ghost lingered in my mind, Griffin’s voice echoing in the quiet.
I poured myself a glass of vodka, the liquid burning as it slid down my throat. But even that didn’t take the edge off. I stared into the fire burning in the hearth, a cruel reminder of what had just transpired.
A knock at the door broke the silence. Wilson and Caleb stepped in, their expressions somber but supportive.
“You did the right thing,” Wilson said, sitting across from me as Caleb poured himself a drink. “It wasn’t easy, but it had to be done.”
I nodded, though the words did little to ease the ache in my chest. “I didn’t want him to die,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Not like that.”
Caleb, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward. “It wasn’t up to you, Rolan. The moment he chose to betray you, he made his decision. The rest was beyond your control.”
“Still,” I murmured, staring down at the glass in my hand. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”
Wilson clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. “You’re a good leader, Rolan. Don’t ever doubt that. This was a hard choice, but it was the right one. The pack will be stronger for it.”
I nodded again, though the hollow feeling inside me didn’t fade. We sat in silence for a while, the three of us, sipping our drinks as the fire crackled in the hearth.
Outside, the remnants of Griffin’s life were still smoldering, the flames that had ended his betrayal slowly dying out.
Caleb lifted his glass, breaking the quiet. “To move forward,” he said, his voice steady.
I hesitated for a moment, then raised my own glass. “To move forward,” I echoed.