The Grand Council Hall was a disaster of shattered illusions and political ruin. As the Elders filed out, humbled and desperate to avoid the Nightshade King's gaze, the prisoners remained, surrounded by silent, armored Guards.
Alpha Zoran, his silver restraints rattling, fought against his captors, his voice raw with fury. “This is madness! A child playing with stolen secrets! You cowards, you'll bow to the North for this fabrication?” he spat at the remaining Elders. “I am the Alpha of the Crescent Pack! You cannot do this!”
Elder Solon, pale but composed in his surrender, stepped toward the thrashing Alpha. “Silence, Zoran. Your rank is stripped, your Alpha status forfeited by the crimes you witnessed. We, the remaining Council, have ratified the King’s temporary sovereignty. Your fate,” he said, nodding solemnly toward Amelia, “is no longer in the hands of the East. It is now in the hands of Luna Amelia.”
The name landed heavily, an acknowledgment of her new, terrifying power. Zoran went silent, his breathing ragged, his golden eyes locked on Amelia with pure, venomous hatred.
Once the Elders had departed, the immediate danger was past, but the work had just begun. Kian dismissed the Guards to the perimeters, leaving only a few trusted personnel, including Ronan, the Royal Accountant, to secure the data chip.
Kian walked directly to Amelia, his entire demeanor shifting from King to mate. He reached for her, his large hands resting on her shoulders, guiding her gently toward him. “The battle is won, Luna,” he murmured, his breath stirring her hair. “You played them into the ground.”
She leaned into him, the strength draining from her as the adrenaline faded. “I had to. There was no other choice.”
“There is always another choice,” Kian corrected, pulling her close for a brief, fierce embrace. “But you chose the path that guaranteed their destruction. Now, the aftermath. Ronan, give us a moment. I need to know the political landscape we’ve just inherited.”
When Ronan was out of earshot, Kian steered Amelia toward a secluded alcove. “The Crescent Pack is the most crucial asset. We cannot leave it unstable. They are too powerful to simply hand over to a minor Alpha. Zoran’s heir, carried by Theodora, is a complication we must address.”
Amelia finally took a deep, steadying breath. “It has to be real, Kian. Theodora’s pregnancy is the truth.”
“Then we deal with it. If she bears an heir to the Crescent Alpha bloodline, it risks creating a martyr complex and endless rebellions,” Kian stated, his face hardened by the pragmatism of command. “We will secure the Pack through the safest avenue: guardianship.”
He met her gaze, his meaning clear. “Eastern law allows for the temporary transfer of a disgraced Alpha’s domain to a trusted, neutral family—a process that allows the current line to be neutralized without immediate execution. Who is the most logical guardian in the East?”
“The Thorne family,” Amelia replied, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. “Me. The only surviving Thorne without a warrant for high treason. I would become the nominal guardian of the Crescent Pack, governing through appointed Regents until a new Alpha is groomed from a secondary bloodline.”
Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s a burden. I don’t want to be tied to Zoran, or Theodora, or that name. But it is the only way to avoid the civil unrest they plotted.”
“Then you will carry that burden, but I will appoint the Regent and the Pack Captain,” Kian promised. “You will issue the decrees of authority; I will provide the steel to enforce them. We will run the East together. Now, the prisoners.”
Amelia looked back at the captured Alpha Zoran, his breathing controlled now, his face a mask of bitter defeat.
“My father, Lord Alaric, is a weak old man and a political architect, not a fighter. Strip him of his title and his wealth. Exile him to the southernmost borders of the Wildlands. He will live in ignominy, and he will never be a threat to the Crown again.”
Kian nodded. “Agreed.”
“Alpha Zoran,” Amelia continued, her voice cold and devoid of all former affection. “He planned your death, he stole millions, and he plotted sedition against the entire Coalition. He will be tried for high treason and theft. He deserves the deepest cells in the Northern dungeons. He disappears from the world. As for Theodora, her sentence must be deferred until the child is born.”
“Done,” Kian affirmed, turning to the guard captain. “Captain, confirm the prisoners are secured and prepared for transport to the North.”
The Captain snapped a sharp salute. “Lord Alaric Thorne, Alpha Zoran, and Theodora Thorne are secured, Your Majesty. We are awaiting the final instruction on Octavia Thorne.”
Amelia frowned. “Where is Octavia?”
“She was taken separately, Luna, as per the King’s initial orders,” the Captain said, confusion flickering across his face. He gestured to the Guard who had restrained her. “Where is the Octavia?”
The Guard looked around the Hall, his eyes wide. The platform where Octavia had been seated was empty. The perimeter doors were sealed, but there was a deep, narrow service corridor behind the main Council benches, used only by servants.
“She… she was here, secured to the bench near the western window after the King commanded the transfer. I turned to assist with the Alpha’s restraints, and now…” The Guard stammered, pointing to the empty bench where the light, silk rope used to temporarily bind her lay cut clean, a jagged thread catching the light.
“Find her!” Kian roared, the golden hue of his eyes deepening to a molten, dangerous shade.
The Nightshade guards sprang into frantic action.
Amelia felt a sickening chill. Octavia hadn't been screaming for justice; she had been screaming for a diversion. She had used the chaos of the transfer and her daughter’s shocking claim as cover, using a hidden razor to cut her light bonds and slip away into the service corridors.
“She fled,” Amelia whispered, the taste of ash returning. “She used the commotion of the transfer. She’s gone, Kian.”
Kian strode over to the severed rope, inspecting the clean cut. He turned back to Amelia, his face grim.
“A fugitive Elder with intimate knowledge of the entire conspiracy, and a strong political mind. The drama is not over, Luna,” he said, his voice laced with the cold promise of pursuit. “She just bought herself a significant head start.”