242

242
Malrik POV
“So what exactly are you suggesting, Alpha Vitale, Alpha Blackwell?” Kaelith’s voice cut across the chamber.
Quillan didn’t flinch. “I’m saying we strike down the law against the Moonchild bloodline give them back their seat among the Twelve. It’s theirs by right.”
The room froze. Then chaos broke loose.
Arguments clashed like steel against steel, voices rising in disbelief and fury. But beneath the outrage, no one wanted to utter the real sticking point that the Twelve would become Thirteen. That was the thought choking them.
Quillan remained unmoved in the storm, a fixed point in the turbulence.
And Cassian matched him.
“I stand with Alpha Vitale,” Cassian said, rising from his seat. His voice carried like a blade drawn from its sheath. “When Roarke crossed the line, it wasn’t this council that stopped him. It was a Moonchild. When everyone else fell, she stood. It’s time we stop punishing a bloodline and start honoring it. This---this is justice.”
The noise dulled, heads turning, a few reluctant nods breaking the tide.
I rose next, and I didn’t bother with politeness.
“I agree. I don’t care what anyone here thinks about the Moonchild bloodline. I care about what my mate did while the rest of you stood silent. You call yourselves rulers? Then lead. Do what’s right.”
That locked the room. Three regional alphas standing shoulder to shoulder.
The murmurs faded.
Then Alban rose voice of the Rourke family and for a heartbeat the chamber went still.
“I agree as well,” he said simply. “The Moonchild bloodline has earned their place. Let’s stop pretending otherwise.”
Across the room Dashira sat, calm as ever. But I knew her fingerprints were on this moment. I didn’t know what debt Alban owed her but clearly, she’d chosen this time to collect.
The balance shifted.
Four family heads in favor.
Three more, and it would be law.
Zebulon’s voice cut the silence. “I support the motion.”
That made five.
Two more, and everything would change. The law. The legacy. The lives crushed under it.
The chamber held its breath.
I scanned the hall. Stone-carved leaders staring back, men and women whose power was rooted in tradition, not justice. Their silence wasn’t indifference it was history’s weight pressing down on their shoulders.
Then, unexpectedly, Zephriel rose.
“I never thought I’d be the one to say this,” he began, voice low but steady. “But we have to do this.”
Heads swiveled.
“The last thing I want,” he went on, “is another Roarke. And let’s be honest he wasn’t a Moonchild. He was ours. One of this council. He twisted our fears, wielded our laws, tried to become the nightmare we claimed to be fighting.”
He let the words hang in the air.
“If we don’t condemn the Fenwick line for his sins, what right do we have to damn the Moonchilds for one ancestor’s madness? That law has always been a lie a mask for our fear.”
Zephriel’s gaze swept the chamber.
“They are the original ruling line. Whether it sits well with us or not, it’s the truth. And they’ve paid far too much for one man’s crime. Too much. It’s time we moved on.”
He sat.
No applause. No cheers.
Just a silence that deepened.
We were one vote away.
Then Drethos stood.
He looked older than yesterday. Shoulders stooped, eyes red. But when he spoke, his voice did not tremble.
“My niece… is both a Mancini and a Moonchild.”
He turned to Dravina once a threat in his eyes, now seated at his side, strong and silent.
“I was there,” he said. “I saw what happened. When my brother Rhydian was slaughtered. When Orielle was accused and driven to the edge until she took her own life.”
His voice cracked. Tears streaked down his cheeks, but he pressed on.
“No family should endure what mine did that night. No child should grow up believing her blood is a crime.”
He swallowed, eyes lost in ghosts.
“We mourned them,” he said hoarsely. “All three. My father was never the same after Rhydian’s death. Losing him broke something in him. And Orielle… she wasn’t just dead. She was erased. Shamed.”
A hush fell like snowfall.
“But learning a piece of them survived that Dravina lived it brought something back to me. Focus. Purpose.”
His eyes softened as he looked at her the last shard of a shattered legacy.
“Rhydian’s gone. But I’m here. I’ll be what he would’ve been. Her father. Her protector. Her voice.”
He stepped forward, hands open.
“I support the motion. No more hunting. No more punishment. The Moonchilds deserve freedom. A life without a target on their backs.”
He paused, his voice rough. “Some of us lost love because of this law. Watched it slip away to uphold a lie.”
Drethos swept the room with his gaze.
“It’s time to end it. For good. We owe our children a future that’s fair. One where laws protect the innocent not punish bloodlines.”
And just like that… we had the seventh vote.
It was done.
No eruption. No roar of victory.
Only stillness.
A silence so heavy it felt sacred.
We had crossed the line. There was no return.
Even the five who voted against the repeal knew it. The majority had spoken and the law was dead.
The Moonchild Execution Edict was officially struck down.
And with it, the ban on Dravina as my Luna was lifted. I was no longer in breach of any contract. She wasn’t just my mate now. She was my equal. My partner. My recognized other half in the eyes of the council.
And she was a Mancini.
Everything had gone not just right but better than we’d dared hope.
Tavrix would take the Moonchild family’s seat. The Leaders of Twelve… had become the Leaders of Thirteen.
History rewritten in real time.
I was glad for him. For Dravina. For all of us.
But in the quiet that followed, a question settled like a weight at the back of my mind.
Why had Quillan fought for this?
He had no Moonchild blood. No lost love to reclaim. No obvious reason to risk himself.
Quillan Vitale never moved without a stake.
So why this?
What did he gain?
I didn’t know.
But one day, I would find out.