Page 9 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
His eyes narrowed in disapproval over his sudden desire for a human. She’d been pitiful with a bow the last time he saw her, worse than any human he’d seen, but she’d managed to survive this long. And she’d lingered so close to him, knowing what would happen if he discovered her… Foolish woman. Or perhaps brave was the right word. Either way, the prince never should’ve been tempted by a human—this one especially.
Winter pretended as though he didn’t recognize her, and he relished the anger rising in her expression. She must’ve assumed he’d easily forgotten her after her grandmother’s slaughter,while she’d probably thought about him every day. Back when they’d first met, he hadn’t asked her name, but he’d find out once he finished with the executions.
“Bring out the condemned,” Winter ordered.
A commotion rose behind him where Bael, one of his newest packmate replacements, dragged the first wolf onto the platform in shackles. The prisoner was older than Winter’s father, gray in the beard and hunched in the shoulders, but he’d led the other three into committing this treason. Now, though he was forced to take each step, he maintained enough self-respect not to beg or scream.
Three more wolves dragged the rest of the traitors onto the stage at the same time Bael placed the prisoner on the furthest block of wood. The chains around the younger wolves rattled as they were manhandled onto the remaining blocks. They, however, were not silent and resigned. Their pleading and sobbing filled the town center. Winter smiled maliciously at them as the ropes were lowered over their heads.
The wolf nearest him—the youngest, perhaps not even twenty years—whimpered like a newborn babe.Pathetic. “Please,” he begged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
Winter kicked the block out from beneath him before he could finish speaking—the sound of his neck snapping echoed across the quiet, entranced crowd. There were no excuses allowed in Bloodstorm. Actions had consequences, no matter the reasoning. Helping human hunters kill the king was no exception … even if Winter wished they’d succeeded.
His footfalls thudded against the wooden planks as he strode to the next noose. The block flew out from under the convict and into the crowd. A young dark-haired boy leapt out of the way just in time to avoid being cracked in the head. Winter smirked down at him with a cool expression, daring the boy to cry out.
The woman from Winter’s past pushed through the crowd and grabbed the boy by the back of his tunic. She scowled up at Winter, where he loomed over them at the edge of the scaffolding. Bodies jerked and swayed on either side of him. Her lips moved, whispering words to the prince that he couldn’t hear over the other sounds. The ropes creaked too loudly, the hum of the crowd, the sobs of the last traitor as he awaited his fate. Whatever she said, he didn’t doubt it was unpleasant.
“What was that, human?” Winter demanded, still concealing the fact that he recognized her.
She pinched her lips in a tight line. “Nothing, Your Highness.”
“You clearly have something important to say. Share it.” He lifted his arms and motioned to the crowd. “I’m sure we would all love to hear it.”
“Don’t,” the little boy urged her under his breath. Winter realized at that moment who this boy was—the young woman’s brother, no longer a babe in a basket but a scrawny child.
Her jaw clenched, hands balled at her sides. The crowd remained suffocatingly silent as they waited to hear her answer—or waited to see what Winter would do. Perhaps both. But the prince paid them no attention.
“Well?” he insisted.
“I said you’re such agraciousprince.” She blinked innocently, a false smile curling the edges of her lips, followed by hatred burning in her stare.
“Mmm. Aren’t I?” Winter cooed. Tension filled the air as he kept his gaze trained on hers.
With that, he kicked the final block out from under the last wolf. The crack of the prisoner’s neck rang through Winter’s skull as he turned his back on the crowd.
“Bring me the girl,” he ordered Bael. Winter was eager to see the look on her face when he questioned what she was doinghere, revealing that he had indeed recognized her. What came after was to be determined.
Bael nodded and rushed off to do his bidding. Winter watched over his shoulder as she wove through the crowd, dragging her brother along behind her. Her curves drew his eye, her lithe motions. She moved like a predator. Confident. Stealthy. But, in this moment, he could see the tense fear in the squaring of her shoulders. She believed she would get away, that he didn’t know who she was. He didn’t—not completely—but that wouldn’t stop him from learning her name.
Even predators can be prey.
Winter would’ve called out, demanded she stop, but a part of him was still protecting her. Besides, he didn’t want to risk her open defiance in front of the entire town, and he wouldn’t chase after her until he’d finished making a point with the hangings. Finding her would be easy now that he knew she likely lived in town, and with a scar like hers, someone had to know her name. His pack would succeed in seeking her out, and once Winter had her, he would decide her fate. The king wouldn’t have bothered tracking her down if he knew who she was related to—he would’ve had her killed where she stood.
But Winter wasn’t his father, and he did whatever he fucking wanted.
The prince turned to the wolves standing guard behind him. “Let them hang until the maggots turn to flies.”
By then, the entire town would reek of rot and decay. It would be difficult to forget the lesson he’d just imparted to the crowd when the scent clung to everything they owned.
Winter stalked back down the steps that led to the scaffolding and located the nearest wolf. The young female, Alvena, sucked in a breath as he prowled closer and cooed, “Prepare an interrogation room.”
“Wh-where?” she squeaked, knowing her beta place.
“Where do Iusuallyinterrogate prisoners?” he drawled and cocked his head.
“At your manor?”
He stared blankly at her, watching the fear swirl through her eyes.
