Bab 99: 99

99

Mason's POV

Power was a delicate thing.

It wasn't just about having it—it was about making sure everyone knew you had it. That they feared it. That they respected it.

And nothing drove that lesson home quite like a public execution.

I stood at the head of the grand hall, my throne behind me, my pack gathered like vultures waiting for a feast. The air was thick with tension, the kind that pressed into your bones and made you second-guess every move.

The rebel knelt before me, blood dripping from his temple where one of my guards had struck him. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, but his eyes—oh, his eyes.

Defiant.

Amused, even.

Like he knew something I didn't. He wasn't even afraid of me. Not one bit. Instead he was looking like he was in some king of a movie show or something like that.

Interesting.