Chapter 129: The Beginning of the End

Zoriana had messaged Tristan. She wanted to pour her heart out, to tell him everything she was feeling, but instead, she kept the text strictly professional—dry facts detailing the evidence so he would know how to play along during the meeting.

“Okay.”

The reply had come hours later, causing her heart to clench painfully. Deep in her soul, she had expected him to add an “I miss you,” or at least a few words of appreciation that she had finally gotten to the bottom of this farce. But there was nothing. Just a cold, distant, one-word response.

Kalina growled angrily in her mind, but it was what it was.

Time passed quickly, and Zoriana checked her folder one last time. The evidence was spotless. Smoothly running her hands over the fabric of her charcoal suit, she stepped toward the elevator, her high heels clicking confidently against the floor. Her heart was racing—not out of fear, but from a desperate impatience to finally conclude this chapter of her life. Justice. Closure.

A warm hand squeezed hers. Mounia smiled widely. “We’re here for you,” she whispered.

Her father nodded grimly. “Black Rose warriors are circling the palace perimeter in case things go south.”

Zoriana felt a wave of relief and gratitude, anchored by the support of her family.

“Silver Moonlight warriors are with them, too,” Ryder added, appearing right beside them in a sharp suit. His hair was perfectly styled, and he looked handsome as always, but something about him had fundamentally changed. It was as if he had aged a decade in just a few days. His usual arrogance and boyish joy had vanished, replaced by an expression forged in sorrow and regret—a harsh life lesson permanently carved into his features.

“He finally understands what an idiot he was,” Kalina stated, her tone devoid of mockery, simply delivering a plain fact.

“Maybe,” Zoriana murmured.

Suddenly, another tall figure arrived, accompanied by Roman, Aella, and Fairuza. Goddess, she had missed him so much. It had only been a few days since she left the Iron Heart pack, but it felt like an eternity. Now, standing just a few meters away, he looked breathtaking. He wore a crisp white shirt with rolled-up sleeves that displayed his perfect muscles and tattoos. With his dishevelled hair and the dangerous, commanding aura radiating from him, her heart completely skipped a beat.

Her mind was paralyzed by the high stakes, but her body was electrified by adrenaline. Zoriana stood on a razor's edge, caught between a desperate urge to run away and an intoxicating desire to leap forward into his arms.

She couldn't stop staring at him. Just days ago, his full lips had been everywhere on her body, burning her, allowing her to feel things she never imagined existed. His strong hands, which had once held her so tightly, were now gripped firmly around his phone, his focus entirely locked on his messages.

Tristan greeted the group politely with a nod, but he didn't even acknowledge her. Her heart plummeted; she wanted nothing more than to disappear and hide. Kalina whimpered in pain at their lover’s coldness. But Zoriana took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly. She wasn't here for a love affair, and she needed every ounce of her strength now.

Aella met her gaze, her eyes full of support and encouragement mixed with a small flicker of pity. Zoriana gave her a faint, grateful smile.

The elevator arrived. Zoriana stepped inside with her father, Mounia, and Ryder. Aella and Roman pressed themselves against the back wall to make room, and Fairuza stepped in next. The only empty spot left was directly beside Zoriana.

“Too crowded,” Tristan said dryly, his eyes sweeping over the cabin. “I’ll wait for the next one.”

Zoriana’s throat went bone-dry. He didn't even want to stand next to her. It hurt—it cut her deeply—but she swallowed hard, ignoring the rising burn in her chest.

The hallway leading to the grand council room was large and bright, mockingly arranged as if for a celebration. Ironically, a few death sentences were about to be signed today.

Zoriana pushed open the heavy double doors. Princess Flavia was already seated, looking visibly bored as she inspected her nails. Her expression shifted the moment she saw Zoriana twisting into a look of pure, unmasked hatred.

King Arthur sat at the head of the table, his expression neutral. However, Zoriana noticed that he had anticipated the danger; he had doubled the number of royal guards stationed near the entrance.

Queen Calista sat beside him, grinning happily. Of course, her son had already shared the glorious news that the thorn in her side—her stepson—would be brought down today. In her mind, she was already celebrating his execution.

A few seats down, Karel was sweetly asking Brianna if she needed water or coffee. Zoriana smirked inwardly. If she didn't know the horrific truth, he would have looked like the perfect, devoted mate.

And finally... Gael. His eyes lit up the moment Zoriana walked in. His gaze held a mixture of admiration, happiness, lust, and triumph. He rose to his feet to hug her, but realizing Flavia was in the very same room, he abruptly paused and settled for a dry, formal greeting. His eyes then fell on Fairuza, and his nostrils flared with anger. He loathed her presence, but a twisted part of him rejoiced that she would be here to witness her precious Tristan’s downfall.

“Alpha Zoriana, we have gathered at your request to hear your important findings,” King Arthur announced, breaking the silence. “The floor is yours.”

“We are waiting for a few more people to join, Your Majesty,” Zoriana replied politely, moving to the podium to connect her laptop to the massive display screen.

Just then, Tristan entered. His sheer presence immediately commanded the room, making everyone else seem small by comparison. It wasn't just his size; the absolute confidence and raw power radiating from his Alpha aura dominated the entire space.

Gael smiled satisfactorily. His brother wouldn't have that smug, arrogant look for much longer.

While the room engaged in quiet small talk, Gael grew increasingly impatient. He couldn't wait to see the look on his brother’s face when Zoriana presented the definitive evidence of his treason. What beautiful irony—the very woman Tristan was obsessed with would be his ultimate undoing.

“Alpha Zoriana, everyone is present. Please begin,” Gael instructed, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.

Right on cue, the heavy doors flew open.

“My apologies for being late. It’s not every day I get a chance to see the palace, so I took my time admiring the scenery,” Bjorn said, his tone dripping with heavy sarcasm.

Every face in the room turned toward the rogue leader in utter confusion.

Flavia broke the silence first, wrinkling her nose in deep disgust. “Can someone explain to me what a lowly rogue is doing at a meeting for high-ranking realm members?”

Bjorn merely huffed, but Zoriana cut in flatly, her voice echoing with absolute authority. “I would ask for equal respect for everyone in this room. Bjorn is here today as a crucial witness to report severe crimes against the werewolf realm.”

Gael practically beamed with joy. He wanted to laugh out loud. How brilliant was Zoriana that she had even managed to flip Bjorn to testify against Tristan? Today, his half-brother would be completely finished, and Gael knew it was going to be the absolute best day of his life.