Chapter 121

Logan

They dragged Scott into the building with an echoing clatter of chains to announce his arrival. He was bound in heavy manacles that attached his remaining arm to the shackles that bound his legs together at the ankles. His worn, disheveled boots scraped over the wooden floor like a death march.

Even beaten, he wore a smirk like armor, head tipped just enough to let everyone know he thought himself untouchable. It reminded me of the expression Emma had once worn, so unwaveringly smug.

But that had not lasted long for her either.

Evelyn stood beside me, calm and cold as she watched him shuffle forward, though I caught the tension in her jaw. Her fingers were clenching her cloak like it was the only way she could resist lunging for him.

It was just us, the northern Alpha, two heavily armed guards, and the traitor. Lucas loomed near a fire roaring by his hearth, arms folded, watching silently. His expression was unreadable, like he had no interest in how it all played out, but I knew that his presence in this reunion spoke to the opposite.

“Here he is,” Lucas mumbled as his guards shoved Scott forward. “Your prisoner.”

Scott stumbled but didn’t fall. He looked at me first, then let his gaze slide to Evelyn. It was all I could do not to growl at the way he watched her. I knew that she could handle herself, but my wolf stirred protectively in me, begging to be relinquished.

“Princess,” Scott purred, his voice smooth despite the bruises coloring his jaw and throat.

That single word was enough. The restraint I had been using to resist hurting him snapped. I stepped forward so fast that the guards stiffened. My hand fisted in his hair, jerking his head back hard enough to make his teeth clack.

“Address her again in the correct tone, or you will not address anyone ever again,” I growled, close enough for my breath to warm his ear. “She has earned your respect.”

His smile widened. He was a man who had seemingly lost his mind. I could see it now, the way he was beyond saving. Where once he had been a businessman looking for the next way to make extra profit, he was now lost to revenge and warped by betrayal and torture.

“Has she?” he asked.

I wanted to end him right there, rip out his throat, and be done with it. But this wasn’t just about my vengeance. My fist clenched even tighter around his hair, ripping strands straight from his scalp, and still he grinned maniacally.

Evelyn’s voice broke through my haze, cool and commanding, like water on a conflagration.

“Before we take him,” she said to Lucas, “I want him gagged. He won’t poison another room with his lies. I have no need to hear his purring words any longer. He has lost that privilege.”

A smart move. If I had to hear any more of his smug posturing, I would kill him before we could return him to the palace and make an example out of his death. And that simply wouldn’t do.

Scott had earned a public execution, gory and brutal. People needed to see that they couldn’t poison the Alpha King and slip away. Justice would be dealt, and everyone of importance would bear witness.

But still, I needed to see him suffer. Now. I could stand the thought of enduring his shuffling gate or that self-satisfied grin any longer. No, I needed to shed blood, my thirst for his punishment was so great. For now, I needed a taste.

“No gag,” I said, my grip still tight on Scott’s hair. I turned slowly, meeting Evelyn’s eyes. “Let me take his tongue.”

Her brows lifted, a flicker of something like shock in her expression. She was a pacifist by nature. A healer. I knew that she despised unnecessary blood being spilt; it was one of the many things she ahd fought to right throughout the war. I’d seen her flinch at Emma’s execution and the gore that came with it. And so, I expected her to deny me this request. I was prepared for her to quell my anger with her proposals of peace.

Instead, her voice came soft, almost fragile. “A more permanent solution may be necessary. See that it is done.”

The air left my lungs in a quiet rush. For a heartbeat, I stared at her, and in her eyes I saw not porcelain fragility but unyielding steel. These past few months had changed her, and perhaps nothing more so than her father’s poisoning.

But beneath that steely resolve, there was also pain. For her father. For these horrible, violent circumstances we continued to find ourselves in.

She did not deserve to feel that way. If I could make the people who brought her this pain pay for it in blood, I would.

A slow smile curved my mouth as I drew my blade, its edge catching the firelight. “Gladly.”

Scott’s smirk faltered, finally. “You think this will silence me?” he sneered. “You think cutting out my tongue will stop what’s coming? You have no idea what you have set into motion. You will never know peace. I am just one of the many enemies you have made, and they will keep appearing, mark my words. This doesn’t stop with me.”

I tore back his hair again, pulling more hair from his scalp. This time, he winced.

“No,” I said, voice low and even. “Maybe it won’t solve anything. You’re right about that. But it’ll at least make me feel a little bit better.”

“It’ll never end,” he said through gritted teeth. But I could see it now, finally. The beginnings of fear surfaced in his gaze.

I leaned closer, letting my wolf rise in my voice so he could feel the weight of his mistake. “That’s fine,” I murmured. “As long as there’s one fewer enemy when I’m done. And frankly, I’m tired of hearing these promises, Scott.”

I unsheathed my dagger in a swift motion. Like a good butcher, I did not let him see the assault coming. I only acted with the swiftness that the event required.

I finally freed his fisted hair and grabbed his tongue instead, pulling it out of his jaw and taut. Then, in a single, fluid slice, it came loose, and blood poured onto my hand and wrist.

The scream tore through the hall like thunder. His tongue hit the floor with a wet slap, blood spilling in crimson rivers down his chin and pooling at his feet. He gagged, choking on the taste of his own punishment as his screams turned wet..

I wiped the blade clean on his tunic as he continued to convulse and wail in pain.

“Shh,” I said softly. “Quiet now. There’s no need to shout. It will only make it worse. It’s not like you’ll die from it anyway. You don’t get to do that until I say so. Until she allows it.”

Then I turned to Evelyn. She hadn’t flinched. Not once. Her eyes met mine, and I found them burning with something dangerous. She was not appalled by what I had done. It almost seemed like it had done the opposite.

For a moment, I felt the full intensity of my pull toward her, fierce and undeniable. This strong woman who allowed for punishments to be dealt when necessary. This caring heart that also knew when consequences outweighed kindness.

And I thought, as I slid the blade back into its sheath, that I’d gladly carve out a thousand tongues for her if it meant she never had that earlier pain in her eyes again.

Gladly.