Chapter 38

“This is an act of unthinkable audacity, Lord Protector Kessler!” Lord Protector Ashcroft bellowed. “No noble has been sentenced to death in over two centuries! A single noble life outweighs a thousand mere human lives!”

His words ignited a fire in my chest, but this time I bit my tongue. I had learned that silence was often the best shield for survival.

“You’ve already stripped us of our wealth and titles. Is that not punishment enough? Must we now surrender our lives as well?” fumed the former noble, now Warden, Dorian Vexley. His outburst was echoed by the frantic, indignant gasps of his sons.

Hadrian stepped deliberately to the center of the courtroom stage, his presence commanding as his eyes glowed faintly with intensity. A slick, predatory smile crept across his face, sending a chill down my spine. For the first time, I realized this trial wasn’t merely about justice for the innocents. There was something deeply personal in Hadrian’s demeanor, a long-standing vendetta simmering beneath his composed exterior.

He wasn’t here solely for my vengeance. This was a game he relished, a spectacle where the Vexleys' humiliation and agony were the main course. His disdain and hatred were palpable, and I couldn’t shake the growing doubt that my role in this courtroom had more layers than I’d understood.

“Your Honor, auxiliary judges, members of the Night Council,” Hadrian began, his voice steady and calm, “let me remind you of one unyielding law in our code: betrayal is punished by death. If a vampire betrays our kind, there can be no other sentence.” His gaze swept to the defendants, lingering just long enough to gauge their reactions.

Dorian Vexley’s teeth ground audibly as an animalistic growl rumbled from his throat. The sight of it only widened Hadrian’s grin. With a maddening calm, Hadrian flashed Vexley a taunting smile, stoking the embers of his rage.

When Dorian huffed in fury, Hadrian turned with a practiced grace back to the judges. “Nearly thirty years ago, the Lycans attacked the House of Kessler,” he continued. “Since then, I have tirelessly searched for any connection between that werewolf pack and a vampire noble family. And I found it. There is one family that traded goods with the werewolves—a family with a direct link to the pack that destroyed the Kesslers.”

The room erupted. Hatred and anger crackled in the air like a storm ready to break. If there had ever been a truce between vampires and werewolves, it was irrelevant now. It was understood—unforgivable—that any vampire who colluded with werewolves deserved the severest penalty.

“This is absurd!” one of Vexley’s sons shouted, slamming a fist on the table as he rose to his feet.

“Quillon, sit down,” Dorian barked, yanking his son back into his seat. “If Lord Protector Kessler intends to accuse us of such treachery, he will need solid evidence. And I doubt he has it.” His glare at Hadrian was venomous, daring him to proceed.

The accusation tugged at my own suspicions. Could the Vexleys have been in contact with the werewolves? It would explain how the wolves from my father’s pack tracked me to Hadrian’s castle. But how had a wolf slipped into an auction swarming with vampires without anyone noticing? Their scent was unmistakable, even to me. Surely, vampires would have sensed it even more keenly.

If only I had proof. My observations that night had been limited by my desperation to survive. Still, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I had missed something critical.

Hadrian’s smirk never faltered. He radiated a confidence that was both unsettling and hypnotic. With a subtle nod to his right-hand man, Mr. Larkspur, he sent him dashing from the courtroom. Then, with measured steps, Hadrian moved closer to where I sat, his attention shifting to the judges.

“I believe Ms. Drayton’s testimony will provide the evidence we need,” he declared smoothly.

“What?” The word escaped my lips in a startled whisper as I felt all eyes shift to me. My heart raced. “How could I possibly help him? I can barely recall anything from that night!” My panic churned in the pit of my stomach.

“Let’s hear what Ms. Drayton has to say,” a female judge said with a grin, her gaze sharp with intrigue.

I sank deeper into my chair, my pulse pounding in my ears. I was certain I would make an utter fool of myself. No matter how hard I tried to unearth the memories of that night, all I could recall were the leering eyes of vampires and my frantic attempts to escape.

Hadrian knelt before me, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Calm down, Thalassa,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing melody. “Focus on my eyes, and you’ll remember everything. Trust me.”

Trust him? How was I supposed to do that when his very presence scrambled my thoughts? The smooth cadence of his voice was maddeningly enticing, and my heart betrayed me, hammering wildly in my chest.

He took my hands in his, the touch sending a jolt through me. Slowly, he leaned closer, his grey eyes drawing me in until the rest of the room faded away.

“What happened before the auction?” he asked, his voice both commanding and hypnotic.

“There was… a banquet,” I heard myself say, the words slipping free without thought. “But the guests weren’t eating or drinking. They were watching the waitresses.”

Hadrian’s smirk deepened as he gently stroked my hands. His proximity, his gaze—it unraveled me. My resistance crumbled as if I were under a spell. In that moment, the world outside of us ceased to exist.

“Now, Thalassa,” he urged, his voice low and steady, “focus. Was there a werewolf at the banquet?”

His words were a lifeline, an anchor that pulled me deeper into my buried memories. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, a flicker of something stirred. Perhaps it was possible, I thought, to recall every detail of a moment long gone, even if it felt like trying to catch smoke.

I drew a shaky breath and closed my eyes.

In an instant, clarity struck me. I knew exactly what to do, as if the deepest recesses of my mind had unlocked. I focused, trying to reconstruct every detail of the banquet scene.

I pictured myself weaving through the room, balancing a tray, surrounded by unsettling guests who, as I later learned, were vampires. My steps took me past the revolting man who nearly licked my neck, his breath warm and his presence suffocating. I could see myself edging closer to the door at the far end of the hall, opposite the kitchen.

I scanned the memory, searching for anything unusual. The room was filled with vampires, their auras oppressive and their stares predatory. I tried to recall if there had been any odd scent, anything that didn’t belong. At first, my senses picked up only the overpowering perfumes of the guests. Concentrating harder, I surprised myself—I could even distinguish their brands. Gucci, Paco Rabanne, Dior, Tom Ford, and Chanel wafted through the air, the musky undertones clinging to the men in the room as though they were desperate to mask their insecurities with an air of confidence and masculinity.

All except one.

Among the cloying musk, I detected a faint, unfamiliar scent: lavender and mint. It wasn’t coming from inside the banquet hall but from just outside, beyond the door at the end of the corridor.

In my mind’s eye, I moved toward the source of the scent. The door at the far end of the hall creaked open slightly. Behind it, I saw two figures. I strained my memory, searching for their faces hidden within the chaos of fleeting impressions. One of them clicked into focus: Theron Edgewater. I recognized him immediately, a face burned into my memory from when I had been caged.

The second man was unfamiliar, but his presence stood out sharply. The scent of lavender and mint clung to him. He had straight, short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, his sturdy frame exuding confidence. His skin was warm, his complexion far from the ashen pallor of Theron’s. He wasn’t a vampire.

I gasped, my eyes snapping open.

“You’ve found him,” Hadrian said, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering as he searched mine.

“Yes,” I breathed instinctively, confirming his words. But as I spoke, a question formed in my mind—how had he been so certain it was a man?

“Did the man say anything?” Hadrian asked, his voice low but commanding. “Tell me, Thalassa. What was he saying?”

The authority in his tone bypassed my conscious thought, and I found myself closing my eyes again, this time seeking sounds instead of sights.

I pushed past the cacophony in my memory—the snickering conversations, the vile comments aimed at me and the other waitresses, the haunting background music. Slowly, I honed in on the faint sounds beyond the door’s crack.

At first, the voices were muffled, warped like echoes in a tunnel. Gradually, they sharpened, becoming clearer with every passing second.

“Diamonds.” The single word rang out, spoken in Theron’s voice.

“You’ll need to do better than that,” the second man replied, his tone laced with arrogance. “It won’t be as easy this time.”

Theron growled, the sound low and menacing, before biting out through clenched teeth, “How much?”

“Fifty rocks,” the blonde man said casually.

“Fifty million dollars?! Are you insane?” Theron’s voice spiked with anger.

“What, did you expect a discount for a repeat deal?” the man sneered.

Theron’s hesitation was palpable in the memory. After a long pause, he said grudgingly, “I say twenty.”

The other man scoffed, his disdain evident. “Don’t like it? Then I’m out. You know as well as I do it’ll take an Alpha to take down a noble. And we’re not just talking about any noble—this is the future vampire king. Only an Alpha like ours has the power to kill him.”

He began to turn away, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Wait!” Theron’s voice stopped him. “I’ll… I’ll pass your words on to the Warden.” His tone was weighed down by reluctant resignation.

“You’d better,” the man said, yanking his arm free from Theron’s grasp. A smirk lit his face as he added, “Alpha Cassius Marwood expects your answer by tomorrow.”

The memory unraveled, and I gasped again, my eyes flying open.