Chapter 295
Chapter 295:
A jailer never abandons his prisoner, a voice whispered in the back of my mind.
“He’s not done,” I said softly, turning away from the mirror.
Dallas’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. “Neither are we, little wolf. Neither are we p>
We drove toward the Council, leaving the wreckage of my past behind. But I knew the shadow of the jailer would stretch long into our future. The cage was open, but the hunt had only just begun.
Adella
The drive to the Council’s neutral territory had been a blur of motion and silence, but stepping into the Tribunal Hall felt like walking into the belly of an ancient beast.
The chamber was circular, carved entirely from obsidian that seemed to swallow the light. There were no windows — only massive moonstones suspended in the air by heavy iron chains, casting a pale, ghostly glow over the room. The air was thick with the scent of burning sage, old stone, and the crushing weight of centuries of Alpha judgments.
I stood in the center of the floor, my hands trembling slightly at my sides. Beside me, Duncan Whitaker, the Beta of the Blackwood Pack, stood as a silent sentinel. But my eyes sought Dallas.
𝘙𝖾𝗮d fr𝗲𝖾 𝗻𝘰𝘷𝗲𝗅𝘀 𝘰𝗇
He sat in the front row of the gallery — a dark, imposing figure amidst the grey stone. He didn’t look like a spectator; he looked like an executioner waiting for the signal. His golden eyes met mine, and I felt a surge of warmth that steadied my racing heart.
I drew a breath that tasted of dust and ozone, then turned to face the three Elders seated on the raised dais. Their faces were lined with age, their eyes sharp and unyielding.
“Alpha Marcus Hyde didn’t just want my family’s land,” I began, my voice echoing off the black walls. It sounded stronger than I felt. “He wanted to erase us. When the Rogues attacked, his patrols were ordered to stand down. I heard the calls on the radio that night. I was a child, but I remember p>
To my left, at the defendant’s table, Marcus and Victoria Hyde sat pale and diminished. Victoria wept silently into a handkerchief — a performance that might have worked yesterday. Today, it only looked pathetic. Marcus stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.
“And the accident?” one of the Elders asked, his voice like grinding stones.
“It wasn’t an accident,” I said, the cold clarity of the truth sharpening every word. “It was a cleanup operation. I survived the fire, so he took me in — not out of charity, but to keep his victim close. To ensure I never remembered enough to destroy him.” I gestured to the stack of documents Vance Decker had submitted earlier: financial records, Victoria’s tearful confession to the pack doctor, and the tampered brake lines report from ten years ago.
“He stole my life,” I whispered, grief finally transmuting into pure, cold anger. “And I want justice p>