Chapter 167

DEREK

They were already seated when I arrived.

The sentencing chamber in the central courthouse had the hushed, heavy atmosphere of a room waiting to breathe. The kind of place where sound never echoed quite right, and even the air felt weighted—thick with old grief and new judgment.

Stone walls loomed high and unmoving, washed in the pale gray light that filtered through narrow windows near the ceiling. Wooden benches, smooth from decades of use, creaked beneath shifting bodies. The faint scent of floor polish hung beneath everything—mixed with something colder. Sterile.

Final.

I kept to the back.

Didn’t announce myself. Didn’t want to be seen unless she wanted to see me. I stood just inside the arched door, near one of the pillars, my hands in my coat pockets, my back to the exit.

Close enough to witness.

Far enough to give her space.

Maggie sat at the defense table, her posture so perfectly straight she might’ve been carved from stone. Her hair was braided tight down her back, and her hands were folded neatly in front of her. She didn’t look scared. Not exactly. Just… still. Like someone who’d already accepted what was coming.

Or someone who had run out of things to lose.

Behind her, in the first row, Elena sat with Mason and Erin. Mason had one arm draped over the back of Elena’s seat—casual in theory, but there was nothing casual in the way he watched the room, his jaw tight, his eyes constantly scanning.

Erin, seated on Elena’s other side, held a folded tissue in both hands, twisting it slowly between her fingers. She looked like she was bracing herself. For what, I wasn’t sure—the sentence, the goodbye, or the way this moment would leave a permanent mark on all of them.

Elena hadn’t seen me yet. Her eyes were forward, calm but tense. Her mouth was pressed into a neutral line, but I could tell by the way she held herself—shoulders squared, chin slightly lifted—that she was steeling for impact. Not because she thought Maggie deserved worse. But because watching someone you love be condemned, even in fairness, does something to you.

And Jacob?

He was seated at the high bench beside the other tribunal Alphas, black robes crisply pressed, the silver sigil of his pack shining at his collarbone. He looked entirely at home there. Comfortable. Confident. His gaze was on the papers in front of him, not the room. He hadn’t even glanced my way when I entered.

Typical.

The room settled. The murmuring died down as the final council Elder stood and addressed the court.

“This court, having reviewed all testimony and evidence presented during trial, and in consultation with the full tribunal, hereby sentences Maggie Thorn to life imprisonment under the Global Alliance statute. With the possibility of parole to be reviewed in ten years' time.”

Maggie didn’t move.

The rest of the courtroom rippled with shifting posture—relief, disappointment, tension—depending on which side of the conflict you stood on.

I exhaled slowly. It was, in my opinion, a fair sentence. Harsh, but not vindictive. The ten-year parole review was a mercy. And a sign that maybe, just maybe, some on the Council believed she wasn’t a monster. Just a product of the broken world she’d grown up in.

But I wasn’t here to weigh legal outcomes.

I was here for her.

For Elena.

The gavel tapped once, closing the session.

Moon Sentinels moved forward, prepared to escort Maggie away, but Elena and the others slipped from their bench quickly, crossing the small gap to her before the guards could intervene.

The judge on duty nodded once, granting the moment.

I stood back, hands clasped in front of me, watching Elena press her hand over Maggie’s and say something I couldn’t hear. Mason hugged Elena as she stepped back—tight, respectful. Erin looked like she was barely holding it together.

Maggie turned to Elena one last time and spoke—clearly enough that I could just make out the words.

“Thank you. For all you’re doing. For the rogues. For me.”

Elena nodded, and I saw the glassy sheen in her eyes before she blinked it away.

The Sentinels stepped forward. Maggie didn’t resist. She walked with them, back straight, out of the chamber and into whatever came next.

The rest of the room stirred. Papers shuffled. Doors opened.

Now. I told myself. Now is the moment.

I stepped forward, just as Elena turned.

“Elena,” I said softly.

She stopped.

Her eyes met mine, but something was already wrong. There was no softness there. Just a tight, unreadable expression. Her mouth twisted into something like a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It looked… restrained.

“Hey,” I added, trying not to look too eager. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Erin glanced at her, concerned. Gave her arm a quick, comforting squeeze—like she was passing her courage in secret. Then she nodded once and took Mason’s arm.

Mason, however, did not move.

“Elena—” he started, voice low.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Just a minute.”

Mason glared at me with open hostility before Erin tugged gently at his sleeve. He muttered something under his breath, but followed her out.

Leaving Elena and me alone.

At last.

I cleared my throat. “I wanted to talk to you about the Foundation.”

She crossed her arms. “Did you.”

Something in her tone stopped me cold.

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t tired.

She was ice.

“I wanted to tell you I’ve been giving it a lot of thought,” I said, trying to ignore the spike of dread rising through my ribs. “That I’ve made some calls. Looked into grants. I think there’s more Silverclaw can offer, if you’re willing to let me help.”

I smiled—just a little. Not too much. “I want to support what you’re building. Really.”

She blinked once.

Then tilted her head.

“So that’s why you went out to dinner with Cassandra?”

My heart stuttered.

“What?”

She didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. “I saw it. Wolf Whistle had you front and center. Candlelight. Wine. She looked very engaged.”

I opened my mouth, stunned. “It’s not—Elena, it wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“She reached out to me.”

“Of course she did.”

“She said she wanted to help,” I rushed on. “With the Foundation. She wants to contribute. Time, resources, funding—she said it’s her way of making up for what she did to you. To us.”

Elena held up a hand.

I stopped mid-sentence.

“I don’t want her money,” she said quietly. Calmly. Not a flicker of heat in her voice—just steel. “I don’t want her time. I don’t want her involvement.”

“Elena—”

“I want her out of my life,” she continued. “Completely. And if you’re willing to be part of hers, then I want you out of mine.”

I took a step forward, my hand reaching for her almost on instinct. My wolf surged to the surface, panic roaring through him. She couldn’t mean that. She couldn’t really mean—

But she stepped back.

Just enough to make the distance real.

“I’ve tried,” she said. “I’ve given you every opportunity. I’ve defended you, protected you, and made space for you to earn back what we lost.”

“I am trying,” I whispered.

She looked at me for a long moment.

Then shook her head.

“No. You’re just late.”

Mason’s shadow reappeared in the hallway, like a sentry waiting to see if he needed to step in.

Elena turned toward him.

And then, without looking back at me, she said: “You’ll have joint custody. We’ll work out a schedule. But beyond that?”

She turned slightly, just enough to meet my eyes one last time.

“I don’t want anything more from you.”

And then she walked away.

And I let her.

Because I had no right to stop her.