Chapter 54 54. Verdict
Tabitha’s POV
Luca’s here. The sight of him gives me a strange rush of hope. They did say that he was busy collecting proofs that will discredit the accusations against me. I just hope that he’s found something solid to slap on the council’s faces.
Jace breaks into a smile as Luca steps through the doors. “You’re just in time.” He grins.
Reed tilts his head with a sly smirk. “Finally. Let’s end this boring trial once and for all.”
Luca glances at me as he walks forward. His smile looks cocky on the surface, but when our eyes meet, I catch a quick flicker of relief before his mask settles back in place.
“I’ve got the proof that will clear Tabitha’s name once and for all,” Luca announces.
Alfred scoffs. “If this is another flimsy witness, then you may as well give up now. Testimonies like that hold no weight in this court.”
Luca huffs a derisive laugh.
“No, we’re done with witnesses. What I have is far more substantial. And I think you’ll be very interested to see it, Elder Alfred.” There is a hint of mockery and an unmistakable tone of veiled threat in his tone.
For the briefest moment, something close to fear flashes in Alfred’s eyes as Luca strides toward the council. It makes me wonder what exactly Luca has found. Whatever it is, Alfred Wix looks genuinely concerned.
“Alright…” Beta Renston folds his hands together, his full attention on Luca. “And what exactly do you have, Luca?”
From his pocket, Luca pulls out a small flash drive and holds it up.
“I managed to retrieve the CCTV footage from the day the artifact was damaged.”
“Impossible—” Ava blurts, then quickly clears her throat. “I mean, how can you be certain that this footage is legitimate?”
“Words can be twisted. Hair can be planted. But videos don’t lie,” Luca replies smoothly.
“Unless they’re tampered with!” Alfred snaps.
Luca regards him with bored eyes. “I got this file directly from the Sharpe Hotel’s security personnel. You can verify it with them if you like. Unless you also want to brand their staff as liars. Though I doubt Alpha Eliott would appreciate you throwing such accusations at his men.”
Eliott Sharpe is the owner of the Sharpe hotels and Alpha of the Deathclaw pack. The elders may be brazen enough to challenge Emery’s sons but I doubt they are stupid enough to incur the wrath of another Alpha—much more Eliott—who is known for his low tolerance to anything or anyone who insults his authority.
Eli, Ava, and Alfred seem to realize that as they exchange uneasy looks. It almost seems like they want to say something but ultimately decide to bite down their tongue.
“That’s what I thought,” Luca says smugly.
Renston exhales. He looks exhausted.
“Very well. Let us see this CCTV footage you’re insisting on,” the Beta demands.
He gestures to a few pack members, who hurry to prepare the projector.
Luca plugs the flash drive into place, and the screen flares to life with grainy footage of a hotel hallway. “This,” he begins, “is the hallway outside the suite of my father and Isla. Right here.” He points at a door on the projection. “It’s a presidential suite, so it’s the only room in this hallway. When they left for their honeymoon, no staff came here again since there were no guests to serve inside the room.”
Hmm, this was different from that bridal suite that my mom used when she and the other bridesmaid were getting ready before the wedding. I guess this was a separate suite for her and Alpha Emery as a couple.
Luca pauses for a while and we all quietly watch as the video plays on. “That suite also happens to be where the artifact was kept. When the newlyweds departed, they left the Diamond Mountain behind. The plan was to retrieve it once they returned. The suite was locked, and while no guards were posted outside, no one in their right mind would dare to invade an Alpha’s room.” His gaze sweeps the council. “But clearly, my father has underestimated the foolishness of certain people.”
After several minutes of empty hallway footage, the crowd gasps when a figure suddenly appears. Despite the grainy quality, it is clear from the silhouette that the person in the video is a woman. She glances left and right as she walks down the hallway toward the presidential suite, as if checking for witnesses before pulling a tool from her pocket and working on the lock. Moments later, the door opens, and she slips inside the suite.
What the…
Luca grabs a remote and fast-forwards the recording. After several minutes, the same woman emerges, shutting the door quickly behind her before fleeing down the corridor.
Luca lets the video run, then says, “I won’t bore you with three hours of empty hallway. Let’s skip to the next event.” He moves the footage forward again. “Roughly three hours later, the elders—Eli, Alfred, Ava, along with four others—suddenly arrived to check on the suite and found the artifact damaged. Suspicious, don’t you think?”
“We had received a report from a witness that a strange presence was seen near the vacated suite. We just went there to check.” Eli straightens, his tone defensive. “And it was rather fortunate that we did because we had discovered that the artifact had been damaged!”
Reed snorts. “Oh, so now we’re relying on witnesses? Interesting.”
“Are you accusing us of being involved in this crime?” Alfred bristles.
“Of course not.” Luca smiles faintly. “Why would I, when we already have the culprit caught on camera?”
He rewinds and pauses the clip on the moment the woman enters the hallway. “The footage is rather low quality, yes. The Sharpe hotel should seriously replace their rusty cameras. Anyway, if you study the physique, the posture, the frame of the perpetrator—it is clear this is not Tabitha. Tabitha is shorter, her frame is smaller. And her hair only reaches just below her shoulders. While the woman here has hair down to her waist, even when tied back. The differences are obvious. We can’t be stupid to still pin the blame on her even after watching this.”
The crowd falls silent. Some glance between the frozen image on the screen and me, realization creeping into their eyes. That’s right. Look at me, assholes! I wasn’t the culprit. A part of me wants to shout it in their faces, to remind them how quick they were to condemn me, how ready they were to tear me apart without a second thought just a second ago. But another part of me is just tired. All I want is to go home, curl up in my bed, and pretend none of this ever happened.
“If you’re still not convinced, shall we find out who is the real culprit once and for all?” Luca doesn’t even wait for an answer as he excitedly zooms in on the blurry face until the features become recognizable.
The hall fills with sharp gasps as the perpetrator’s identity becomes clear. It isn’t me.
It’s Yennifer Wix.
All eyes snap toward Yennifer. She has gone pale, and as the crowd parts around her, she stumbles a step back, her face drained of color. Isabel, Beta Renston’s daughter and Yennifer’s cousin, stares at her as if seeing a stranger. Genuine horror flashes across her face at the thought that her own blood could damage an artifact so important to the Aldair family and the pack. Even Jace, usually quick with words, is uncharacteristically silent, his eyes fixed on the replaying footage in disbelief. Evren says nothing, but anger simmers beneath his cold exterior, and the look he casts at Yennifer is one I would never wish to face myself.
“That’s right, folks. The person responsible for damaging the beloved Aldair artifact is none other than Yennifer Wix.” Luca gestures at Yennifer in a dramatic fashion, looking like he’s enjoying himself. “I gotta admit, it’s rather funny that you’re out here accusing our stepsister for a crime she didn’t commit when the real culprit is your daughter all along, Elder Alfred.”
Alfred’s lips tremble, his whole stance shrinking like a cornered kitten. Yet there’s no true shock in his face. He looks shaken by the trial’s sudden turn, but not by the revelation itself, as if his daughter’s guilt is something he already knew. My gaze snaps back to Yennifer just in time to see her bolt, only to be caught almost instantly by Wyatt and Rye.
“Let me go!” Yennifer screeches but the men’s grip on her arms is ironclad.
Something clicks in my head as I watch her struggle. Pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place—how I found my room unlocked minutes before the wedding, my dress ruined, and her strange reaction when I showed up anyway. She had looked shocked, almost disappointed, as if she had expected me to never make it to the ceremony. Was that her work too? The footage just proved she has a knack for picking locks. Which is surprising, because I always thought the only thing she good at was bullying people.
“This is a setup! I’m being set up!” she wails, kicking her feet. “That video is edited!”
Reed shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Oh don’t be ridiculous, Saint Yennifer. If someone went through all the trouble of editing a video, they’d pick a better star than you.”
Yennifer bares her teeth, her eyes glinting in red crimson. I’m human but I can tell that she’s losing control of her wolf. My mom once told me that stress, anger or any strong emotions tend to heighten the power and control of their wolves.
True to my mother’s words, Yennifer’s body begins to contort as thick furs sprout from her pale skin. A garbled growl slips from her throat as she begins to shift.