Chapter 11: The Offer

Every head turned toward the voice.

Sofia froze.

Her heart skipped a beat.

That voice.

Even though the black cloth covered her eyes, she knew it.

It was Damien’s.

Her breath caught in her throat as her mind spun. Why? Why would he stop the execution now?

The air was heavy with confusion. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The executioner hesitated, his axe still raised midair.

Damien pushed through the pack members, his green eyes burning with something no one could name—conflict, pain, disbelief. He didn’t stop until he stood before the stage.

“Lower the weapon,” he ordered.

The executioner froze, uncertain, until Alpha Morrison’s deep voice rang out.

“Damien,” the Alpha said slowly, standing from his seat. “What is the meaning of this?”

Damien’s chest heaved. His jaw worked as if he was fighting with himself.

“I need to talk to her,” he said, his voice tight. “Privately.”

Alpha Morrison frowned. “Damien—she’s a murderer.”

“I know what she’s accused of,” Damien cut in sharply, his tone respectful but firm. “But before you let her die, I want a moment alone with her. Just one.”

The pack erupted in whispers. The Alpha glanced at his son, confusion flickering in his eyes. Damien had never questioned a sentence before—never once.

After a long silence, Morrison gave a small nod. “Very well. But make it quick.”

The guards yanked Sofia to her feet again, dragging her down from the platform. The crowd’s whispers grew louder, buzzing with curiosity and confusion.

Damien turned without another word and walked toward the garden behind the courtyard. The guards followed, pulling Sofia behind them.

The path was quiet except for the sound of footsteps and chains. The garden was empty, the morning air thick with tension.

When they reached the edge, Damien stopped. He turned to the guards.

“Leave us,” he said.

They hesitated, exchanging unsure glances.

“That’s an order,” Damien snapped, his voice low but authoritative.

The guards bowed their heads and backed away, leaving the two of them alone among the tall hedges and blooming flowers.

Sofia stood still, her breath uneven, her hands trembling in their chains. She could hear him pacing. She could feel his eyes on her even though she couldn’t see through the blindfold.

“Damien?” she whispered softly, her voice breaking. “Why… why did you stop it?”

He didn’t answer at first. His fists clenched at his sides, and Lucas stirred inside him restlessly.

Because something doesn’t feel right, his wolf whispered in his head.

Because her scent doesn’t smell like guilt.

Damien’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to admit that.

He took a slow step toward her, his eyes fixed on her blindfolded form as he stared at her.

The black cloth covered her eyes, but he could still see everything else—her trembling lips, her pale face, and the red marks around her wrists. His chest clenched.

He remembered how he used to snap at her during training if she so much as grazed her knuckles. “Don’t get hurt, Sofia. Not even a scratch,” he used to tell her. She would just laugh, rolling her eyes, but he’d always make sure she had ointment ready. Back then, he couldn’t stand to see a single bruise on her flawless skin.

And now here she was—covered in them.

His throat tightened. He didn’t know what was real anymore, but he knew one thing: he couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t stand and watch her being killed. Even if she was guilty, he couldn’t watch her die.

Lucas growled low inside him. “Then do something. Now.”

Damien’s hands curled into fists. He hated himself for even thinking of it, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“I have an offer for you,” he said quietly, his voice rough.

Sofia flinched. Her breathing turned sharp, uneven. “An… an offer?” she whispered, unsure if she’d heard him right.

Damien stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. “Yes. An offer.”

Her lips trembled beneath the blindfold. “What do you mean?”

He swallowed hard, hating the taste of the words even as he spoke them. “Agree to belong to me,” he said slowly. “Be mine. Completely. Do what I say, when I say it. No questions. No refusals.”

Sofia’s breath hitched. “I… I don’t understand—”

His green eyes burned, but his voice stayed low and steady. “Be my sex slave,” he said, the words like poison on his tongue. “And I’ll save you today.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The garden was silent except for Sofia’s ragged breathing and the pounding of Damien’s heart.

Sofia’s head jerked back slightly under the blindfold, as if she hadn’t heard him right. “Wh-what?” she breathed, her voice trembling. “What did you just say?”

Damien’s jaw flexed. He hated himself for repeating it, but he did anyway.

“You heard me. You have one minute,” he said, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Be my sex slave or go back out there and die. That’s all the time you have.”

Sofia’s lips trembled. “A… sex slave?” she whispered, the words tasting like ash on her tongue.

“Yes.” Damien’s voice was flat, but his fists clenched at his sides as he said it. “That’s exactly what it means. You live, but you live as my sex slave. You do what I say. Always. You don’t get to choose.”

A choked sound escaped her throat. Her knees wobbled, and for a moment she thought she might collapse. Tears she thought had dried up burned at the corners of her eyes.

A sex slave.

The words echoed through her head like a death sentence of a different kind.

She had dreamed of her first time for years. Not a fairy tale, but at least something gentle, something where she would be loved and cherished. Not this. Not a man who thought she was a murderer, not a man doing her a favor in exchange for her body.

Her stomach turned. She imagined what it would mean—no dignity, no safety, no choice. To be fucked anywhere, at any time. To be given out to someone else if he felt like it. A toy. An object.

Death felt better.

But her heart thudded painfully in her chest. If I die, the truth dies with me, she thought. No one will ever know. No one will ever question it again. It will be like I never existed except as a murderer.

Damien stepped closer, his presence swallowing her whole. “Time’s up,” he said quietly, but there was authority under his tone. “Decide. Be my sex slave or go back there and face the axe.”

Sofia’s breath came in shallow gasps. Her hands trembled in the chains. She could almost feel the crowd’s eyes, the axe raised, and the cold block under her cheek. She could feel her dreams slipping away.

Her lips trembled. “I…” she whispered, her voice so soft it almost wasn’t there.

Damien’s green eyes bore into her.

“I… I accept,” she whispered finally, the words breaking as they left her mouth.

Her shoulders shook. Hot tears slipped under the blindfold, but she couldn’t stop them now.

Damien closed his eyes for a second. Lucas growled low inside him, but Damien ignored it.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

Sofia swallowed hard, tears streaming down her cheeks as she inhaled shakily.

“I accept to be your sex slave,” she whispered.

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