⋆ Chapter 193

⋆ Chapter 193
I found myself once again standing in front of a large, imposing door—only this time, I was there to make things right. To speak for the dead. To make sure that Xavier’s death wouldn’t be swept under some ancient rug and forgotten by people who had learned to bury guilt beneath politics.
I stood between Luna Astria and Rafael, the three of us unmoving as we waited for the summons to enter. We were dressed for war in the only way this court recognized—formally.
Rafael was in a crisp, dark suit, his tie knotted. Wanda, quiet but present a few steps behind him, wore the same. And me—I wore one of the blouses and slacks Cillian had bought. The fabric felt soft against my skin, familiar. Like armor of a different kind.
Luna Astria leaned toward me. “Remember everything you told me that Tala said about the other wolves, Luna. You have to speak it here. They must know.”
I gave a nod, too tense to reply. My mouth was dry. My palms, cold. But I nodded anyway.
Then the doors opened.
The hall beyond was enormous. Vaulted ceilings arched high above us, casting shadows between panes of colored glass that stretched from the floor almost to the sky. Inside, three elevated sections faced the center of the room like thrones in judgment. Gold letters glinted above each one—Homō. Lupus. Vampir. Each represented a faction. A people. A power.
The rest of the room stretched in tiers like a vast amphitheater, rising higher and higher in rows, each seat filled. Easily over a hundred beings—men, women, shifters, and vampires—all silent. All watching.
In the center, a wide, circular platform stood under the full scrutiny of the room. No podium. No barrier. No place to hide.
As soon as I stepped inside, every head turned toward me. I felt it all at once—their curiosity, their judgment, their suspicion. My spine straightened on instinct, but I couldn’t stop the fear from blooming in my chest like a bruise. It crept up my throat, tightening everything, but I forced myself to breathe. I focused on names in my head. I repeated them silently, like a prayer.
Rafael leaned toward me. “Go to the platform, Matilda,” he said gently.
I took a step forward, then another. Luna Astria and Rafael walked away toward the section marked Lupus, ascending the steps in silence to take their seats among the lycan representatives.
Now it was just me.
I walked to the round platform at the center of the hall. My heels echoed against the polished stone floor, louder than I wanted them to be. When I reached the center, I stood still, not knowing what to do with my hands or where to look.
Then the gavel struck—loud and commanding.
“All rise,” someone said, and the low rustle of movement filled the room.
The court was called to order.
And just like that, every breath I took felt too loud, too shallow. My fingers trembled slightly, so I curled them into my palms. I inhaled deeply. Once. Twice. Three times. I reminded myself that I had come here for a reason.
To speak the truth. To honor the dead. To make sure Xavier didn’t die for nothing.
I lifted my chin. I scanned the room slowly, my gaze catching on faces, none of them familiar, until I found him.
There, in the Vampir section, seated just below the council but still high enough to overlook the entire hall, was Cillian.
He was already looking at me.
Our eyes met, and for a second, everything else faded. The cold stone under my feet, the tension threading through the room, even the tight ache in my chest—none of it mattered. His expression didn’t waver, but something in his gaze anchored me. It wasn’t sympathy. It wasn’t pity. It was steadiness. Like he believed I could do this. Like he expected me to.
I held his gaze a moment longer before turning back to face the tribunal.
The head chairs of the Grand Council sat in front of me, each occupying their station with centuries of authority etched into their presence.
To my left, the chair representing Homō, the human faction, was an older woman with iron-gray hair, her hands folded tightly over her desk. Beside her, seated under the banner of Vampir, was a thin, pale man who bore an uncanny stillness, the kind only vampires possessed. And directly across from me, under the crest of Lupus, sat a broad-shouldered man with silver hair and amber eyes.
When they spoke, they did so one at a time, passing a stack of papers between them, reading names, dates, and events.
“This hearing,” announced the chair from the human council, her voice steady and emotionless, “was called to examine and verify the allegations brought forth against the late Alpha Loric Graves of the Silver Moon Pack. These allegations were filed by Rafael Roanes and Wanda Florus and are supported by the Korvayne Council’s Lord Cillian Ravenscroft.”
Supported by Cillian. I glanced at him again. His face betrayed nothing, but the fact that his name had been spoken aloud here—formally, publicly—was a declaration in itself.
Then the reading began.
Paper after paper. Testimonies. Investigative accounts. Timelines of reported abuse and suppression within Silver Moon Pack. They traced incidents year by year, some as recent as the month before Xavier’s death. Some go back twenty years. Names were read. Events. Locations. Patterns.
It was numbing, all of it. Like listening to someone dissect a body that used to be warm, used to be alive.
From time to time, I was addressed. My name was called formally, and I was asked to respond.
“Are you a human?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know you were the mate of Xavier Graves, son of the disgraced Alpha Loric Graves?”
“No. Not at first.”
I was asked to elaborate. So I did.
I spoke clearly, not just because I had to, but because I owed it to him. I told them how Xavier tried to hide me. How he kept me at a distance, convinced that the moment his pack discovered I was human, I would be hunted—or worse, discarded. I told them how I was unwanted, how I felt it long before anyone ever said it aloud. I told them about the Luna they had already chosen for him—a lycan, powerful and acceptable in their eyes.
I didn’t name her. That wasn’t what this was about.
More documents were read. More testimonials, some from names I didn’t recognize—pack members, watchers, even an old Alpha from a neighboring territory. I didn’t realize how far the scrutiny had reached.
Then the chair for Lupus sat forward.
“We now call the Elders of the Silver Moon Pack.”