Chapter 93

"Do I look all right?" I ask Marcus in our bedroom at the villa. I'm staring at myself in the mirror, smoothing my navy blue dress over my hips. "I've never been to a Werewolf Council before; I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to wear."

"You look fantastic," Marcus says, coming up behind me to tug my zipper all the way to the top of my dress. "Very professional. A real Alpha's Heir wife."

"Fiancee," I say with a smile. I tuck a curl - now back to its original brown - behind my ear. My eyes are brown again, too, and I've been able to dispense with the seemingly-magical makeup that transformed my face.

"Fiancee," Marcus agrees. His smile fades as he looks at me seriously in the mirror, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me backward into his embrace. "Are you sure you're ready to see Charles face to face? Reveal your identity?"

"I'm sure," I say firmly, even as my stomach roils with nerves just thinking about it. "You'll be there, and so will your parents, and Liam, and about half a dozen bodyguards. He can't hurt me now."

"He can't," Marcus says, pressing a kiss to my temple. "He'll never hurt you again."

I sigh, luxuriating in the warmth Marcus is radiating for a few minutes longer. Marcus holds me close, giving me a final tight hug before releasing me.

"Now, how about some of that fancy coffee before we leave?" he asks cheerfully. "I think I've almost worked out how to steam the milk."

"That sounds perfect," I say, and follow him out of the room toward the kitchen.

The Werewolf Council meeting takes place in a room of the mansion I didn't even know existed. The fire department has cleared it for use, since it's in a section of the cavernous basement I'd never visited before.

"This looks like a medieval dungeon," I whisper to Marcus as we enter. "It's a bit disconcerting to find it in an elegant mansion in New York." Marcus bites back a laugh.

The first person I see is Liam, who is standing behind a long table in the shape of a semicircle at the front of the room. Rows of wooden chairs are lined up in the rest of the space. Liam is wearing a long black robe, and he gestures to it with a slight grimace as soon as he meets my eye.

Now it's my turn to bite back a laugh. Marcus and I take seats at the front of the audience chairs, and I wait a little anxiously to see what will happen next.

Charles is brought out, in handcuffs. He looks terrible. It's clear he hasn't been mistreated in any way - and Marcus has assured me that he hasn't been - but the toll of the past few days must have caught up with him.

He's pale and sweaty, and his casual trousers are rumpled as if they've never seen an iron. Faint sweat stains mar the underarms of his white dress shirt, and his tie is askew, as if he's been compulsively tugging at it.

His eyes dart around the room in a semi-panic, as if he thinks there's still some way out of this mess. His gaze lands on me, and his eyes widen in shock. His mouth opens and closes a few times, like a gaping fish. I'm about to think that that's the end of it, when he reacts in a way that I don't think any of us had anticipated.

"You bitch!" Charles chokes out, as if he's gagging on his own bile. He launches himself across the table, his handcuffed hands flexing like he's desperate to wrap them around my throat. "You stupid, stupid bitch," he shouts.

Immediately, the two guards on either side of him lunge forward and grab his upper arms, wrestling him back into place. Charles keeps shouting.

"I knew something was off about you," he howls. "I knew something was just a little too convenient about your death. You stupid, stupid bitch. You've ruined my life. You've ruined all my plans. You've ruined everything."

"Silence!" Marcus's father booms in a commanding voice as he enters the front of the room in his long black ceremonial robes. Marcus hasn't heard him sound this powerful in years. "Charles Robinson, if you know what's good for you, you will hold your tongue and sit down."

Charles clamps his mouth shut, still glaring at Nicole. Marcus has to resist his instincts, the wolf inside of him urging him to shift and tear Charles's throat out with his teeth for threatening Marcus's mate.

Because that's what Nicole is - his soulmate. He knows now why he was so drawn to both her and "Evelyn" - both the same wonderful, extraordinary woman that he's had the good fortune to fall in love with twice.

But that will come later.

For now, it's time for Charles to face his consequences at last. The rest of the Council - political leaders of this community - file silently into the room and take their places behind the table. Charles stands still, visibly grinding his teeth.

"Charles Robinson, you stand here accused of serious crimes against the werewolf community," the Alpha begins, his voice steady and clear. "The charges against you include embezzlement, attempted murder against several persons, conspiracy, abuse of your spouse, and fraud. How do you respond?"

"I didn't do anything any of you wouldn't have done!" Charles shrieks. The man looks truly deranged, Marcus thinks without pity. It's obvious that he's broken down entirely now, completely out of control.

"I see," the Alpha says, his tone dry to the point of almost sounding grimly amused. "Well, let's take that as an admission of guilt, shall we? Let's proceed."

The evidence is presented, and it's damning. It's more than enough for the Werewolf Council to vote Charles out of his position and to recommend he be handed over to the human authorities for further prosecution.

Of course, that was never in question - whether or not Charles would be remanded to the human authorities. But centuries of tradition make it necessary for it to be a formal part of the proceedings here.

"And, finally, there's the matter of your marriage to my daughter, Daisy, descendent of Emmett and Jeanette," the Alpha says. Charles, by this point, is slumped in his seat and staring blankly at his lap.

"Daisy, will you please approach the Council," Marcus's father says. Marcus watches as his sister, heavily pregnant and holding her belly with one hand over her black silk gown, approaches the table.

Daisy knows that she's getting off lightly today. After several very, very long talks with her father - with Marcus and Nicole as her advocates - he's decided not to bring charges against her for her role in this mess.

Joel is another story: his trial will come after this one, and it's not going to be pretty.

Daisy approaches the Council, nerves fluttering under her ribcage.

"Daisy, do you agree with the spousal abuse charges brought against your husband?" her father asks in his formal tone.

"I do," Daisy says clearly. "He tricked me into marriage in order to gain power in our community. He has misused me and has made threats against our unborn wolf because she is a daughter, not a son."

"What is your wish in terms of course of action?"

"I wish to dissolve my marriage to Charles and be free to choose a new mate and father to my daughter," Daisy responds.

The Council unanimously votes in favor.

Amos will never tell anyone how he managed to slip past the heavily-guarded doors and end up lurking in the back of the Council proceeding rooms, but lurk there he does, a cloak hood shielding his face.

After Joel's trial, in which he's sentenced to excommunication from the community and arrangements are being made to ship him to a werewolf penal colony in South America, Amos starts to make his move to leave.

He eases out of the Council room unseen, the same way he got in. Emmett knows perfectly well who is behind all this, and will be coming for Amos next.

Amos doesn't intend to let that happen. He has a ticket for a plane ride back to Milan, and he's going to be on it tonight.

No one notices him as he exits the mansion. He's free. For now.