Chapter 54 Chapter Fifty-Four
A slow clap broke the silence.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Draevyn rose from his throne with leisured grace, the sound of his palms meeting echoing through the endless chamber like the closing of a chapter. His expression was unreadable at first — somewhere between entertained and unimpressed.
He descended from the dais, vines curling up like living stairways—unfurling and braiding themselves beneath his boots with every step. The steps dissolved behind him, as if the room bent itself to his will—a display not of power, but of dominance.
He stopped just before them and tilted his head, gaze flicking to Julian with cool, amused detachment.
“Quite the performance.”
His tone was rich with feigned praise, like a spectator congratulating a tragic play’s lead for dying well.
“Truly, I was moved.”
Kaelani stepped slightly forward, confused but unshaken.
“What are you doing?”
Julian moved instinctively in front of her, his voice low and laced with fury.
“Who the hell are you?”
Draevyn didn’t flinch. If anything, his smile deepened—slow and knowing, like unsheathing a sword without hurry.
“Names are for introductions, pup. And we’re well past formalities.”
A pause. A glint of cruel enjoyment lit those silver eyes.
“Still… if you insist on groveling properly—Lord Draevyn will suffice.”
“He’s the King of the Unseelie,” Kaelani‘s voice was quiet but firm.
“Ruler of the Fae realm, if we’re being veracious,” Draevyn added with a cocky edge.
“Though I do prefer titles that are earned, not inherited.”
Kaelani crossed her arms.
“Please leave, Draevyn.”
Julian stepped forward again, closing the distance. The two stood nearly eye to eye—equal in stature, though Draevyn was a touch taller, and Kaelani knew his strength went far beyond the physical.
“You heard her. Leave. This is a private moment—between me and my mate.”
A soft, disbelieving laugh slipped from Draevyn’s throat.
“Mate, huh?”
His gaze raked over Julian with cool indifference, then flicked to Kaelani—softening, barely. When it returned to Julian, it was sharpened with unbridled scrutiny.
“You’ve got a funny way of treating her, then. Must be a Lycan tradition I haven’t heard of—abandonment, neglect, control… quite the courtship ritual.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Draevyn raised a brow.
“Oh?”
That single word held the weight of a loaded trigger.
The air fractured around them—
light splintering into jagged lines,
the world twisting like celluloid film burning through a projector reel.
Suddenly, they weren’t in the throne room anymore.
Julian blinked, disoriented, as harsh white light bore down on him.
A metal table. Cold steel chair. Stark gray walls.
An interrogation room.
He sat on one end, the only illumination a blinding spotlight angled at his face.
Across from him, Kaelani sat silent—eyes shadowed beneath the flicker.
She looked down at herself: black slacks, white button-down, badge clipped at her hip.
A detective.
Draevyn stepped into view, now clad in a pressed blazer, his black hair slicked back like a noir villain. He pulled a slim notebook from his pocket and slapped it onto the table with theatrical precision.
“Let’s see,” he muttered, flipping through it with maddening calm.
“Ah—here it is.”
He tapped the page with a fingertip, then recited:
“On September 8th, 11:26 a.m., you said—and I quote—‘I want no ties with that woman whatsoever.’”
He looked up slowly, smiling without warmth.
“Then you marched out her front door… and slammed it behind you.”
Julian surged forward, knocking the chair back as he shoved the light out of his face.
“Get the hell out of my head!”
But when he turned toward Kaelani, her eyes were already on him—wide and quiet, clouded with something heavier than anger.
Sadness.
As if she were living that morning all over again.
His voice cracked with urgency.
“I didn’t mean it.”
He looked between her and the table, everything in him unraveling.
“I freaked out, okay? I was scared. But nothing I said that morning reflects how I truly felt.”
Draevyn didn’t let up.
“And what about the conversation you had with your Beta just a few weeks later?”
He paced around the room now, flipping casually through his notebook.
“The one where you chalked up your countless thoughts of Kaelani to your wolf being… confused.”
He stopped just behind Julian’s chair, voice dropping to a mocking murmur.
“When your Beta suggested maybe he wasn’t confused—that maybe, just maybe, your wolf had sensed Kaelani was your mate… you shot that down, didn’t you?”
He snapped the notebook shut, then reopened it with dramatic flair, turning a few pages like an actor delivering a practiced monologue.
“Ah. Right here.”
He read aloud, tone dripping contempt:
“‘What am I supposed to do?’”
Draevyn looked up slowly, eyes locking with Julian’s across the table.
“‘Bring a wolfless Omega home and announce her as Luna?’”
He let the words hang.
“Sounds like you meant that one. Didn’t you, Mr. Hale?”
Julian turned toward Kaelani—and this time, she didn’t look away.
She wasn’t even trying to mask the pain in her expression.
Or maybe she just simply couldn’t.
The ache in her eyes pierced him in a way no weapon ever could.
“He’s taking my words out of context, Kaelani,” Julian said, his voice fraying at the edges.
He gestured toward Draevyn, like trying to swat away a shadow.
“Don’t you see what he’s trying to do?”
Draevyn circled the room with mock innocence, tapping the notebook against his palm.
“What I’m trying to do,” he said almost gently, “is help her see the truth.”
His gaze flicked to Kaelani, his tone softening—but only slightly.
“That’s not even the worst of it, Kaelani.”
He stopped just behind her, silver eyes glinting.
“The worst part is… deep down, since the very night he scented you, he knew you were his mate.”
Draevyn met Julian’s eyes, his expression carved from stone.
“He felt it in his bones. In his soul. But he also knew what claiming you would mean… what he’d be forced to give up.”
Kaelani turned to Julian, searching his face.
“Is that true?” she asked softly.
“Did you know we were mates?”
Julian hesitated—his mouth opened, then closed again.
His eyes darted from Kaelani to Draevyn, then back.
“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure,” he finally muttered.
Draevyn clapped a hand to his chest in mock sympathy.
“Oh? Not a hundred?”
He began circling again, tone biting.
“What was it, then? Fifty? Sixty? Seventy? Eighty?”
He leaned in, eyebrows raised.
“Ninety-five?”
Then, with cruel precision:
“Enough to go ask Mommy and Daddy about fated mates, though.”
Julian’s wolf surged.
A deep, feral growl tore from his throat as he stepped forward.
“Stay the hell out of this,” he snarled.
But Kaelani was already rising to her feet. Her badge caught on the edge of the metal table with a soft clink. She yanked it free, unhooked it from her belt, and tossed it aside without a glance.
“Answer the question, Julian.”
Her voice was calm—but it was the calm of a storm before it breaks.
Julian opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.
Draevyn stepped closer behind her, his voice a whisper meant only for her.
“Listen.”
Kaelani didn’t blink.
She focused—tuned in.
Julian’s heart rate spiked. His scent changed—sharp with adrenaline and hesitation. The shift in his hormones was undeniable.
He was either lying… or preparing to.
She stared at him, her voice pained.
“Julian…”
Finally, he looked at her—guilt heavy in his eyes.
“I knew there was a good chance… that you were my mate,” he answered, voice cracking.
The world twisted again.
Walls peeled away like paper. Light bled out—then:
Order in the court.
Julian now sat in a wooden witness box, hands gripping the rail. A spotlight glared down from a vaulted courtroom ceiling. Mahogany walls loomed around him, and rows of shadowed figures filled the benches—faceless, yet undeniably present.
Draevyn commanded the center aisle, now dressed in a flawlessly tailored navy suit. His hair was neatly parted and swept to the side, a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose. He looked like he’d walked out of a high-profile legal drama—and was absolutely thriving in it.
“Ah-ha!” he declared, spinning on his heel and pointing at the witness stand.
“We have a confession, Your Honor.”
He turned toward the bench, lips curled into a victorious smirk.
“Let the record show—the accused admitted he suspected the bond and failed to act.”
Kaelani, seated high above in the judge’s chair, blinked—then reached up in confusion.
A thick, powdered white wig sat atop her head.
“What the—” she muttered, yanking it off and tossing it behind her in irritation.
She leaned forward, eyes narrowing at Draevyn.
“That’s enough, Draevyn.”