Blessed By The Moon

Chapter 37

Centuries ago

The prisoner knelt before us, wrists bound tightly behind his back, his face swollen and bruised, not from torture, but from the weight of his own choices. The torches flickered against the stone walls, casting restless shadows, making the whole scene feel darker than it already was.

I stood with my arms crossed, my expression unreadable, though my mind was anything but calm. He had betrayed us. Gave away our scouts' locations to the enemy, led them right into an ambush. Two of our people were dead because of him.

And yet, despite everything, I still wanted to know why.

Storm, on the other hand, stood at my side, his presence as sharp and unforgiving as a drawn blade. He was silent, arms folded, his fingers twitching at his side. But I knew him. Knew him better than anyone. He had already decided.

He had already judged.

The air in the room was thick, everyone waiting for the inevitable.

I broke the silence first.

"Tell me why," I said, my voice even, though I could feel the weight of the room pressing down on me.

The prisoner hesitated before lifting his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, swollen, his breathing uneven. "My mate," he rasped. His voice was raw, desperate. "They have her. They said if I didn't tell them where your scouts were, they'd kill her."

A tense silence followed.

My jaw clenched.

That changed everything.

Storm didn't even blink.

"She's innocent," the man continued, desperation thick in his voice. "She doesn't even know about any of this. They took her to control me. What was I supposed to do? Let them kill her? She's my mate ! "

I exhaled slowly, my heart twisting painfully.

I turned to Storm, lowering my voice. "We can fix this, find his mate, bring her back, he'll fight for us then-"

"No."

I frowned. "Storm-"

"He made his choice."

I gritted my teeth. "He was coerced."

"He was weak."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. "You know better than anyone what it's like to be desperate for the person you love. "

Storm's expression didn't change. But his fingers twitched at his side. I saw it, the hesitation, the brief flicker of something deeper.

For a second, I thought I had gotten through to him.

Then he turned back to the prisoner.

"You think love is an excuse?" Storm's voice was ice. "That's what they always say. I did it for my mate. I did it for my family. But the dead don't care why they died." He took a step forward, towering over the man. "The people you condemned to death, they had mates too, they had families too."

The prisoner swallowed hard. "I-I know. And I hate myself for it. I do." He looked at me, pleading. "If you had the chance to save the person you love, wouldn't you take it?"

I didn't answer. Because I already knew the truth.

Storm chuckled darkly. "See?" He gestured toward me. "My own mate hesitated."