Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate

"Kill her! Kill her!! Kill her!!!"

The loud noise from the crowd echoed in her ears, creating a thunderous sound that felt like it was vibrating within her head. Eve's vision blurred, and her head hurt like a drum. 

The voices around her became louder, and she could feel their excitement and desire for blood.

Then, with a splatter, something soft and wet struck her face. The impact jolted her back to consciousness, and her eyes shot open.

Tomato juice dripped from her chin as the offending fruit slid down her cheek and landed with a squelch at her feet. 

Before she could process what was happening, something else landed on her face, but this time it connected with her right eye and broke. 

The rotten smell of raw egg assaulted her nostrils before its liquid rolled down her face into her mouth just as she coughed. 

Spitting out, she blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the bizarre sight before her.

The laboratory had vanished, along with the rhythmic sound of machines and the sharp smell of chemicals. 

In its place, a chaotic scene surrounded her. 

A large crowd was gathered, their faces showing anger as they yelled and jeered. They were dressed in… medieval-era kind of clothes, something that is now considered outdated or out of fashion.

They held torches that flickered, creating spooky shadows on their faces. The air was filled with smoke, sweat, and a raw feeling of fear.

"What the hell…?" she muttered in a hoarse voice.

Her arms ached. 

As she glanced down, she became aware of their tight bindings behind her back. Her legs were also tied, with the rough rope pressing into her skin. She was on a raised platform, with the crowd below looking like hungry beasts.

Panic bubbled up in her chest.

"Where am I? What's happening?!" she gasped, twisting against her restraints. 

Memories of her last moments flickered through her mind—the fire, the suffocating smoke, the shouts for help. She'd been trapped, desperate to escape…

But now she was here. Wherever 'here' was.

"Arcadia Crescent!" a strong, powerful voice bellowed, cutting through the noise like a knife.

"The strongest kingdom in the region!" the crowd responded in unison, their voices like a chant from some ancient ritual.

"Arcadia Crescent!"

"Unity in Strength, Strength in Unity!"

Eve felt her skin crawl as the chant repeated, rising and falling in a rhythm. 

Then, as if cued by some unseen force, the crowd erupted into a bone-chilling howl. Their voices mixed together to create a sound that was so wild and strange it made her stomach lurch.

"Who are these people?!" she whispered to herself. "Where the hell am I?"

Before she could process any of it, the deep voice spoke again, this time with a colder and more deliberate tone.

"We are gathered here to witness the execution of Evelina Drewstone," it declared. "For the attempted poisoning of the Crown Prince."

Eve froze. 

The words slammed into her like a punch to the gut. Execution? Poisoning? Crown Prince? None of it made any sense.

Her heart pounded as her senses sharpened. 

The torches seemed brighter, the distant smell of burning wood sharper. She could hear the rustling of cloaks, and the shuffling of feet. Even the taste of tomato juice and rotten egg on her lips was unbearably vivid.

Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

"No! No, no, no!" she cried, struggling harder against her bonds. "You've got the wrong person! I didn't poison anyone! I don't even know where I am!"

The crowd grew even louder, their faces alight with wild joy, blocking her sorry excuse called screams.

"I swear, I'll sue all of you! This is illegal! I demand a lawyer!" she shouted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. 

Her mind was still clinging to the rules of the world she knew, desperately hoping someone—anyone—would listen.

However, the cruel and mocking laughter ignored her pleas.

"Silence!" The commanding voice rang out again, and the crowd instantly obeyed, their voices dying down to a low murmur.

Eve craned her neck, trying to see the source of the voice. 

Her eyes landed on a man standing at the edge of the platform. His aura was impossible to ignore—dominant, imposing, and radiating raw power. His piercing gaze swept over the crowd before settling on her.

The man was older, his silver hair gleaming in the torchlight. His presence alone made the air feel heavier, and Eve instinctively knew this was someone in charge.

"The accused will speak no more," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "By the decree of the Arcadia Crescent pack laws, she is to be executed for her crimes. Let the traitor face justice."

"No! This is a mistake!" Eve yelled, her voice cracking. "I'm not Evelina or whoever you think I am! I'm—"

Before she could finish, she felt it.

A shift in the air, subtle yet undeniable.

Her skin prickled as an invisible force seemed to draw her attention to the platform's entrance. The crowd fell silent, parting as a figure emerged.

The first thing she noticed was his presence—magnetic and commanding, even more so than the older man. He walked slowly, with each step making a sound in the quiet around him.

And then she saw his face.

His silver eyes fixed on hers, sharp like a blade and equally threatening. His dark hair surrounded a face that looked like it was shaped from stone, with every feature showing a sense of authority.

But it wasn't his appearance that stole her breath. It was the pull.

An overwhelming, soul-deep connection that made her knees weak. Her chest tightened as if her very being recognized him.

And then out of nowhere, she felt something rise within her, a presence so strange yet so familiar as a voice echoed in her mind.

Mate.

Her heart raced. "What the hell is happening?" she murmured.

The man stopped before her. 

The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. But before he could make a statement, one of the men flanking her rushed forward and attempted to cover her face with a black cloth when the deepest baritone she'd ever heard rumbled loudly.

"Wait," he commanded.

The older man frowned. "Prince Damian, you should be resting. The poison nearly killed you. Let us deal with this traitor."

"I said, wait," Damian repeated with gritted teeth.

"Why?" the older man demanded.

"Because…" Damian stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

"She's my mate."

The words hit like a thunderclap, silencing the crowd. Eve's breath caught in her throat.

Mate?

Her head spun, the world tilting on its axis.

"Mate?" the older man repeated in disbelief.

Damian nodded with an unreadable expression. "Release her."

And just like that, everything Eve thought she understood about her situation crumbled into chaos.