Chapter 16 · Blood Trial

The trial stone sits in the center of the clearing like a tombstone.

I can smell the crowd before I see them. Three hundred wolves packed shoulder to shoulder under the full moon, and every single one of them wants me dead. The scent of bloodlust hangs thick in the air, mixed with smoke from the torches ringing the space. My wrists are bound with silver-laced rope. It burns, but I don't let myself flinch.

Cade walks beside me. His hand hovers near my elbow, not touching, but close enough that I feel the heat coming off him. He hasn't said a word since they dragged me out of his room an hour ago. His jaw is locked so tight I can see the muscle jumping under his skin.

Damon stands by the stone, waiting. He's dressed in ceremonial leathers, the kind enforcers wear when they're about to execute someone. Three council members flank him—old wolves with grey in their beards and murder in their eyes. One of them is holding my father's pendant. The Thornwood crest catches the firelight, and my stomach drops.

"Bring her forward," Damon calls out.

The crowd parts.