Then he raised a hand, silencing the crowd. "Stop the execution," he commanded.
Murmurs of confusion rippled through the pack.
"Owen," one of the council members hesitated, "the decision has been made. Execution is—"
"I have a better punishment in mind," he interrupted smoothly, his lips curling in satisfaction.
A chill crept down my spine.
"What exactly do you propose?" an elder asked cautiously. The other council members exchanged uncertain glances, sensing the shift in the air.
Owen turned to me, his expression unreadable, yet the malice in his gaze was unmistakable.
"Death is too easy for her," he said, his voice calm and measured. "She deserves something far worse."
The crowd stirred uneasily.
"Speak plainly, Alpha Owen," an elder pressed.
Owen exhaled, like he was savoring the moment, then delivered his verdict.
"Sell her," he said.
A stunned silence fell over the clearing before horrified whispers broke out.
"Slavery?" one elder scoffed. "That’s hardly justice!"
"If anything, it’s too lenient," another growled.
"You misunderstand," Owen said smoothly, his smirk deepening. "She won’t just be sold. She will be given to the Night Walker Pack."
Gasps echoed through the clearing.