Chapter 40 Chapter Forty
The cell was cold.
Not freezing, not unbearable—just cold enough to remind Kaelani that comfort wasn’t an option. The overhead light flickered every so often, buzzing faintly like it, too, was tired of bearing witness.
She sat on the edge of the narrow metal cot bolted to the wall, spine straight, hands folded in her lap. Her uniform was a dull gray, scratchy at the seams, the fabric stiff against her skin. There were no mirrors in the cell, but she could feel the dullness in her eyes, the blood crusted at the edge of her lip from biting down too hard during yesterday’s questioning.
Three days.
That’s how long she’d been in this place. Three days of isolation, suspicion, and the suffocating weight of someone else’s narrative swallowing her whole.
The first day had been the worst.
Hours of interrogation under harsh lights. Question after question demanding names, timelines—explanations she could barely articulate.
Who are you? Why did you run from your pack? Why did you create a fraudulent human identity?
She gave them the truth. All of it.
But Elara’s version of her life had already been fed to them like gospel.
Kaelani was nothing more than an orphaned Omega, abandoned at Silveredge Pack as an infant. A kitchen girl who began working in the packhouse at twelve. And from the start, she had been difficult. Disrespectful. Mouthy. Defiant. A problem child with a superiority complex.
Lies.
Kaelani had tried to stay invisible. She had done what she always did—what she was forced to do. Survive. Submit when she had to. Speak only when the pain of swallowing her voice became too much to bear. Yes, she’d snapped a time or two. But what were a few sharp words after years of being trampled?
Still, it didn’t matter. Not here.
Not when they already saw her through Elara’s twisted lens.
They told her she was an unregistered Lycan. The words still didn’t feel real.
She’d blinked at them, stunned.
“That’s not possible,” she had said. “Alpha Garrick had me tested when I was eighteen. He claimed the results said I was human.”
“There are no records of that,” one of the Council interrogators had replied coldly, narrowing his eyes. “Convenient, don’t you think?”
They accused her of fabricating her own exile.
Even worse—of expunging her entire record.
They were painting her as a rogue. A threat. A liability that had slipped through the cracks and dared to trigger an Alpha’s rut.
An Alpha already promised to another.
The disgrace of it. The scandal.
Kaelani leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.
They would judge her. Harshly.
Because she had no wolf.
Because she had no rank.
Because no one would come to her defense.
No one believes an Omega.
The clang of the cell door jolted her out of thought.
“It’s time, Omega,” one of the guards said—blunt and unsympathetic.
The other stepped forward, silver cuffs in hand. Without ceremony, they shackled her wrists. The metal was cold against her skin, but not as cold as the looks they gave her—like she was something to be contained.
She didn’t resist.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her tremble.
They marched her down a narrow corridor, past silent cells and reinforced doors. These weren’t the ceremonial halls used for political events or publicized inaugurations. No, this was the kind of place meant for justice—and punishment.
Finally, double doors loomed ahead—massive, carved from dark mahogany and inlaid with silver. They swung open with a groaning creak, and Kaelani stepped into a space that felt like something out of an ancient dream and a dystopian nightmare.
The Chamber of Elders was vast, circular, its domed ceiling arched high above, etched with the sacred emblems of the Lycan Council: the Moon Crest, the Tree of Bloodlines, the Eye of Order.
Smooth stone columns rose into vaulted arches, but mounted along their lengths were glowing light panels and suspended audio nodes—devices meant to record every word, every breath. Transparent projection slates floated mid-air above the central dais, flickering with data she couldn’t read.
But the scent of burning oil lingered.
Torch flames flickered from iron sconces, casting long shadows on the stone floor. Old ways, still alive—even here.
Rows of observers filled the gallery—Pack Alphas, their Betas, representatives from distant regions, and members of the Council’s administrative corps, seated behind glowing screens.
At the center sat the Elders—six of them, robed in formal black with silver clasps, arranged in a semicircle on a raised platform. Before them, a polished obsidian table hummed softly, integrated with light-etched surfaces and data slots. A Council scribe stood nearby, fingers dancing across a sleek interface, logging everything.
They escorted Kaelani forward.
Her eyes scanned the chamber instinctively, warily—until she saw him.
Julian.
He was seated on the left side of the chamber, flanked by a man and woman who had to be his parents. Jace sat silent and unreadable beside them.
Julian didn’t look away. Not once.
His gaze was locked on her, and there was remorse in his eyes—raw, unguarded sorrow. A twinge of something else, too—anger, maybe. Or grief. But Kaelani forced herself not to linger on it.
He wasn’t here for her. Couldn’t be. The Council must’ve subpoenaed him. Nothing more.
On the opposite side, she saw Elara, seated regally, a sick grin spread across her painted lips like victory already tasted. And beside her, Christian—his stare wasn’t just watchful, it was predatory. That same lecherous gleam he wore all those years ago. The one that made Kaelani’s skin crawl even now.
And seated just behind them, Alpha Garrick and his perfect Luna, Brielle—her face cold and eyes hard. Kaelani didn’t need to guess whose side they were on. Garrick wouldn’t let the truth ruin him. He’d smile and twist facts if it meant protecting his power.
He couldn’t even look her in the eyes — coward.
They reached the center of the chamber, and one of the guards nudged her roughly.
“Kneel.”
She dropped to her knees slowly—and knelt.
Before the Elders.
Before the whispers.
Before the judgment.
And for the first time in days, Kaelani felt the chill of what was truly coming.
Not just punishment.
A public reckoning.
Silence blanketed the room.
One of the Elders rose from his seat, his voice even but laced with the authority of centuries.
“Let the hearing for the matter of the rogue Omega of the Silveredge Pack—commence.”