Chapter 155

DEREK

The city of Solmire was built from stone and steel, but the Alpha Council’s central compound stood like a fortress of polished ivory, untouched by age or nature. Every time I approached it, I felt that subtle twist in my gut—the reminder that no matter how high an Alpha rose, the Council always loomed higher.

I sat alone at a linen-draped table in the council district’s attached restaurant, ignoring the overpriced meal cooling in front of me. The room was full of quiet murmurs and flickering candlelight, the low hum of political power disguising itself as civility.

A vibration against the table snapped my attention downward.

A message from Joe lit up my screen.

Council panel list just released. Sending now.

An attachment followed. I opened it.

The names were a blur at first—Alphas from distant regions, packs I barely interacted with. But one name snapped into clarity like a slap to the face:

Jacob Strormvale. Red Ridge.

Of course.

I leaned back in my chair, pushing my drink aside. Jacob. The thorn in my side since we were teenagers at the leadership academy.

The cocky, arrogant golden boy who’d always made sure to beat me at everything by an inch—just enough to flash that smug smile of his and remind me he could. Every class, every sparring match, every Council debate.

Always making sure he was one point ahead.

And now, he’d sit as a judge in Maggie’s trial.

Fantastic.

I rubbed a hand over my face.

To his credit, Jacob wasn’t corrupt. He liked the spotlight too much to compromise his integrity. He had a streak of ego a mile wide, but he also had a spine made of stone.

Still, the idea of him smirking from the high bench while I sat powerless in the gallery… I could already feel my jaw tightening.

The next morning, the Council compound buzzed with anticipation. Guards in midnight-blue uniforms lined the entrance. Omega clerks rushed past, balancing tablets and scrolls, muttering last-minute procedural details under their breath.

I was shown to a seat near the front of the observer gallery. Elena wasn’t here yet. Part of me hoped she’d changed her mind about testifying.

But the other part—the part of me that trusted her more than anyone—knew better.

The sound of the council bell rang out, deep and final.

Five Alphas entered through the chamber’s rear doors and took their place behind the crescent-shaped bench. I recognized them all, but my eyes locked instantly on Jacob.

He hadn’t aged a day. Still tall and annoyingly handsome, his blond-gold hair swept back like some storybook prince. He scanned the gallery as he sat, pausing when he saw me. His brow arched. A grin flickered.

Yep. There it was.

The clerk stood.

“Today begins the trial of Maggie Thorn, accused of conspiracy, trespassing on sovereign pack land, and assault on Alpha-class wolves. The charges stem from her coordination in an attempted kidnapping of Elena Hart, and rogue-led attacks on alliance summits and territories over the last year.”

The charges rang through the chamber, each word cutting like a blade.

Maggie sat at the defense table, hands folded neatly. Her dark hair was pulled back. She looked… calmer than I expected. Resigned, almost. But not afraid.

Her attorney—a hotshot hired from the southern packs with a reputation for getting wolves out of impossible situations—rose when the clerk gestured.

She smoothed her charcoal suit with a slow, deliberate motion, casting a glance at the crowd assembled behind us. Her face was impassive, unreadable, the kind of stoicism that only came from years of walking wolves through blood-soaked trials and leaving with their necks intact.

"The defense pleads not guilty on all counts," she said, voice crisp enough to slice through the heavy air.

Gasps rippled through the gallery like a living thing, a swell of disbelief and anger.

Chairs scraped against the stone floor. A few voices murmured—sharp, biting words I couldn’t catch. Someone even growled low in their throat before being silenced by a harsh glare from one of the guards stationed at the exits.

Across the aisle, I saw Alpha Deveraux from Hollow Pine Pack leaning forward, whispering furiously to his Beta. Others weren’t even pretending to hide their outrage.

The prosecution rose next—a tall, broad-shouldered woman in a dark green suit, her expression carved from stone. She spoke without hesitation, her voice booming into every shadowed corner of the council hall.

“The people will demonstrate,” she said, “that Maggie Thorn orchestrated attacks that cost lives, endangered pups, and nearly destroyed the fragile peace among the packs. We recognize her past—” she glanced briefly toward Maggie, “—her rogue status, her claims of reform, her alliances. But these actions cannot go unanswered. Justice must be served.”

A low rumble of agreement stirred the gallery again.

I pressed my palms against my thighs, trying to anchor myself.

Then it was the defense’s turn.

Her name was Tessa Harrow, and she commanded the room without raising her voice. She was slight, almost unassuming, but when she stood, it was like a storm gathering on the horizon—quiet at first, but impossible to ignore.

Her iron-gray hair was pulled into a severe knot at the base of her neck, and when she spoke, her voice curled like smoke through the tense air.

“Yes, my client was raised rogue from a young age,” she said, each word deliberate, like the hammer of a gavel. “Yes, she led others who had been cast out, abandoned, and forgotten. But what the prosecution will conveniently ignore is the systemic failure that drove those wolves to desperation in the first place.”

She looked out over the gallery without pity. “The rigid pack structures. The unbending hierarchies. The sins of fathers visited upon sons and daughters who never asked for the blood they were born into.”

A few pack leaders stiffened visibly at that.

Tessa smiled thinly, sensing her advantage.

“The attacks on the Moonstone Pack were abhorrent. No one—least of all my client—denies that.” Her gaze swept the room, daring anyone to argue. “But it was not without context. It did not arise in a vacuum. And before you mete out irreversible judgment, before you make an example of a single wolf for the sins of an entire broken system—consider not just what Maggie did, but why she did it.”

The silence afterward was deafening.

Even the ever-present scribbling of the council stenographers seemed to pause for a moment, as if the room itself needed time to process the words.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, feeling the eyes of the entire gallery pressing down like a physical weight.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t just about Maggie.

If she walked free, every pack leader with a taste for blood would scream about weakness.

There would be outrage.

Fear.

Calls for blood.

Old alliances would fray at the edges. Trust—already a fragile, battered thing—could shatter completely.

But if she was sentenced to death?

My throat closed painfully.

Elena would never forgive us.

Maybe never forgive me.

I knew where she stood—on the edge of compassion, right at the line between justice and mercy. And wherever she went next, I would follow. But I wasn’t sure I could protect her from the fallout.

The clerk called the first witness.

“Elena Hart.”

My heart stuttered.

She rose from the side doors and walked to the stand.

Elena moved like a leader now. Calm. Measured. Dignified. But I knew her well enough to see the fire burning just beneath her stillness.

She placed her hand on the oath stone.

“I swear to speak the truth, by the Moon and by my bond.”

Jacob leaned forward slightly. Intrigued.

And I sat frozen in place, knowing the next words out of her mouth might change everything—for Maggie.

And for us.

Elena sat straight-backed in the witness chair, hands folded neatly in her lap. From a distance, she looked composed, impenetrable. But I knew her too well. I could see the slight tremble in her fingers, the way she tightened her grip against the wood of the chair to steady herself.

Everything—everything—was about to change.