Protective Custody...

"My Prince, can you please explain what just happened? How can she be your mate?"

The question broke the heavy silence in the throne room. Council members, dressed in ceremonial robes, looked at each other with concern. 

Damian, sitting on the largest of the three thrones, leaned back and gripped the armrests tightly, trying to steady his racing thoughts.

"That," Damian said in a calm but irritated voice, "is a question better directed to the Moon Goddess than to me."

His mentor and the Beta of the kingdom, Lord Luther—the same man who had ordered the execution—was the one who had spoken. His father, the Alpha King, was away on matters of great importance so the fate of the kingdom was on him.

An elder spoke up. "My Prince, Evelina Drewstone was accused of treason. How can you be certain she has not used witchcraft to fake the mate bond? Surely, this is a ploy to escape justice."

Damian's jaw tensed, his wolf snarling at the accusation. "Do you consider me foolish?" His voice cut through the murmurs. "I felt the bond as clearly as I feel the blood in my veins. That is not something one can fake."

Luther stepped forward. "Damian, you know as well as I do that the timing is... convenient. Evelina has always been cunning. If she's truly guilty, releasing her—even temporarily—would be a grave risk."

Damian met Luther's gaze head-on. "And if she's innocent?"

"Then let the truth reveal itself in time," Luther countered. "But not at the cost of your safety or the pack's."

Whispers erupted among them. Words like witchcraft and treachery floated through the air, adding to the noticeable tension.

Damian stood up from his throne, and everyone fell silent. "Enough," he growled, his eyes flashing red briefly. "I understand your concerns. Believe me, I have no intention of jeopardising the pack. But I will not condemn my mate without giving her the chance to prove her innocence."

"Your Highness," another council member interjected in a shaky voice, "what if she uses that chance to harm you? She could try to kill you again."

Damian's lips curled into a grim smile. "Let her try. I'll handle it."

Luther's brows furrowed, showing his worry. "I've known you since you were a boy. You are wise beyond your years. But you cannot let emotion cloud your judgment. This isn't just about you, Damian. It's about the pack. Every decision you make has consequences for all of us."

Damian stepped forward, his silver eyes locking onto Luther's. "And as your future Alpha King, I take responsibility for those decisions. Evelina is my mate, and by the laws of our kind, that bond demands a chance. I will vouch for her."

The room fell silent as Damian's words settled over them.

"She's my mate," Damian continued. "And I take full responsibility for her actions moving forward. If she's guilty, I'll deal with her myself. But until then, she stays alive."

The council glanced nervously. Finally, one of the elders spoke in a cautious tone. "How long will you give her to prove her innocence?"

Damian considered this for a moment. "One moon cycle. If she cannot prove her innocence by then, I will carry out the execution myself."

A collective gasp rippled through the room, but Damian's expression remained stoic.

Luther stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You're taking a huge risk, Damian. Are you sure about this?"

"Very certain."

Luther, though visibly displeased, inclined his head slightly. "If that is your decision, my Prince, then so be it. But know that the council will be watching closely."

"Good," Damian replied curtly, his eyes locking with Luther's in a silent challenge. "Then you'll see what I already know: she is not the enemy here."

The council members exchanged glances, hesitant but ultimately bowing to his authority. 

One by one, they filed out of the throne room, their murmurs fading into the distance. Luther was the only one who stayed behind, looking worried.

"Damian," he said softly, now that they were alone, "you are taking a big risk."

"Every choice worth making carries risk," Damian replied. "But I won't condemn an innocent woman to death because of fear and doubt. Not without proof."

Luther hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. I'll stand by you, as I always have. But be careful. Trust is fragile, especially when it's given so freely."

Damian watched as his mentor walked away before taking a deep breath. He turned to the large windows in the throne room.

"She's your mate," his wolf said in his mind. "You did what was right."

"I hope so, Storm," Damian muttered under his breath. 

He had barely finished those words when his manservant burst into the room with a panicked expression. "Your Highness!" he exclaimed, bowing hurriedly. "Lady Selene is in the dungeons. She's... she's torturing the prisoner—I mean, your mate, sire!"

Damian froze for half a second, as if trying to make sense of the servant's words. His wolf surged forward and a low growl rumbled in his throat. "What did you just say, Jasper?"

Jasper swallowed nervously. "She went down there moments ago. The guards... they didn't stop her. She claimed she had your permission."

Without another word, Damian stormed from the throne room.

*******************

A Few Minutes Earlier in the Dungeon

Eve paced her cell, her mind racing. The conversation with Damian still buzzed in her ears, her wolf's voice occasionally chiming in with unhelpful commentary.

"You know, for a guy who just accused us of poisoning him, he's surprisingly protective," her wolf mused.

"Protective? He threatened to execute me!" Eve hissed aloud.

The wolf chuckled. "Details, details."

Eve groaned, running a hand through her tangled hair. "This is a nightmare. Execution. Dungeon. Werewolf mate. Great vacation so far."

Her wolf huffed in amusement. "You're handling this better than I expected."

"Don't start," Eve muttered. "You're part of the reason I'm in this mess."

"Correction: you're the one who got dropped into this body. I'm just trying to keep us alive."

Before Eve could lose herself in her troubling thoughts, the sound of high heels clicking against the cold stone floor caught her attention. She looked up, her heart racing, as a woman stepped in front of her cell. 

The woman was tall and elegant, dressed in a flowing crimson gown that looked far too luxurious for the dark and damp dungeon. 

She looked confident, with a scowl on her face and shiny golden hair. Her cold green eyes focused on Eve with both amusement and anger.

"Well," the woman said smoothly, her voice dripping with malice as her eyes glowed briefly, "so you're the witch who tried to poison my betrothed."

Eve blinked, her confusion quickly giving way to irritation. "And who are you?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

The woman's expression changed instantly. With a quick pull, she yanked open the cell door. Eve barely had a moment to respond before the woman's hand lashed out.

The slap came hard and fast, stinging Eve's cheek so badly that it made her head whip to the side.

The shock of it held her in place as the woman leaned in closer with a threatening voice. "I didn't remember asking a question, witch."