SERAPHINA’S POV

By morning, the word "Sovereign" still felt unreal.

I had barely slept after Kieran carried me back from the northern lake. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw moonlight breaking over the water, felt that molten pain carving down my spine, heard Kieran’s hoarse voice saying the words neither of us had been fully prepared to hear.

‘You ascended.’

The silver markings across my back had completed beneath the full moon, and my power had settled into me with a terrifying kind of silence, like an ocean gone still because it no longer needed to prove its depth.

Silver wolf. Sovereign-level psychic.

I, the woman who had spent most of her life believing she was weak and powerless, was suddenly one of the most powerful beings in existence. I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

Kieran noticed every time I drifted too far into my own thoughts.

His hand would find mine beneath the council table or settle briefly against the small of my back, his touch firm enough to anchor me without making me feel fragile.

I needed that more than he knew. Because there was no time to understand what I had become before we had to use what I was.

Jack Draven’s public trial was arranged for noon three days later.

Not within the reinforced stone of the Nightfang dungeons; in the large open square built into the neutral district bordering Griffith Park, where carefully screened reporters and civilian observers could see everything.

It was a brutal gamble.

We were not naive enough to believe Marcus and Catherine truly cared about Jack, but we knew they cared about what he represented.

Jack knew pieces of their operations. Jack carried the darkness they had implanted. Jack was evidence, weapon, failure, and bait all at once.

Hopefully, it was enough to spur some action.

The square had been secured from every angle.

Frostbane guards controlled the outer perimeter while Nightfang corralled the inner perimeter.

Ethan remained near the southern access point with Frostbane warriors while Maya moved between security lines and civilian sectors, quietly coordinating with Nightfang patrols.

Corin’s psychic net pressed lightly over the crowd—gentle enough not to alarm the innocent, sharp enough to catch hostile intent. Alois stood by the tribunal platform, pale robes stirring, his invisible wards lurking beneath the stones.

The allied Alphas were present as well, strategically positioned throughout the square like pillars of support.

Kieran stood at the center of it all.

Alpha. Judge.

Executioner, if it came to that.

And I stood beside him.

The moment I stepped onto the platform, murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Awe. Curiosity.

Something like reverence—almost more unnerving than the hatred—lingered in the air.

Some people stared at me like a deity they wanted to kneel before.

Others looked at me as if they were still waiting for proof that I would not turn on them.

A sardonic smile pulled at my lips. The world was still reeling from my exposure as a silver wolf. How would they react if they knew what I’d become literally overnight?

Kieran’s voice cut through the square before the murmurs could grow teeth.

“Bring him out.”

The iron doors of the temporary holding vehicle opened.

Jack Draven was dragged into the square in silver restraints, flanked by four guards and bound so thoroughly that he had to be practically carried.

He looked worse than he had in the interrogation room.

Not weaker. More unraveled.

Dark veins threaded faintly beneath his skin, more intense around his throat and wrists. His eyes were fever-bright, the darkness behind them shifting, restless.

When he saw the crowd, he smiled. Blood cracked at the corner of his mouth.

“Well,” he rasped, voice carrying through the amplification stones, “you should have told me we were having a party, I would have put on my Sunday best.”

A ripple of disgust moved through the square.

Jack’s gaze slid to me.

Then he recoiled.

A cold thread of understanding slipped through me.

Whatever darkness Catherine had planted inside him recognized what I had become.

Jack laughed too loudly. “Look at you. Big day for the moon’s favorite pet?”

Kieran’s aura sharpened.

I placed one hand lightly against his arm, not to stop him, but to tell him I was fine.

Mostly.

Kieran looked down at Jack without a flicker of emotion.

“Jack Draven,” he said, each word carrying cleanly across the square. “You stand accused of conspiracy, trafficking, abduction, unlawful experimentation, murder, attempted mass violence against allied territories, and collusion with hostile forces operating under Marcus Draven and Catherine Vale.”

Jack made a show of yawning.

“Quite a list. How long did it take for you to memorize that?”

Ethan stepped forward, eyes cold. “Do you deny coordinating attacks through rogue cells under your command?”

Jack grinned. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“The Alphas of the allied forces.”

“Then yes, absolutely.” He leaned forward as far as the restraints allowed. “I’m a humble victim of political persecution.”

A few reporters shifted. Cameras zoomed in.

Kieran nodded once to Lacy.

Evidence appeared across the large projection screens surrounding the square.

Shipment routes.

Wolfsbane records.

Footage from raids.

Names of missing victims.

Financial links.

Recorded communication fragments.

The crowd grew quieter with each piece of proof.

Jack watched the screens with bored contempt.

Aaron’s name appeared among the victims, but we did not show his testimony. We had agreed not to turn Catherine’s victims into a spectacle.

Kieran’s voice remained even.

“Do you still deny involvement in these crimes?”

Jack spat blood onto the platform. “I deny your right to question me.”

A guard struck him across the back of the knees with a silver staff.

Jack collapsed hard, his knees striking the ground with an audible crack.

The crowd gasped.

He laughed from the ground, breathless and ugly.

“There it is,” he wheezed. “Lawful justice.”

Kieran’s face did not change. “You were given terms. Cooperation in exchange for consideration.”

Jack lifted his head, darkness slicking across his eyes.

“Cooperation?” His smile widened. “You mean begging? You wanted me to beg for my miserable life so you can pretend to be noble.”

“No,” I said quietly.

His gaze snapped to me.

I stepped forward. “We wanted to know whether there was anything left worth saving.”

The smile vanished.

For half a second, the square seemed to tilt into silence around us.

Then Jack’s face twisted.

“You think you scare me now?” he snarled. “Forgive me, oh Sovereign one, if I’m not shaking in my boots.”

The crowd stirred at that.

Kieran’s eyes flicked briefly toward me.

Corin’s presence brushed my mind in a silent, razor-sharp question.

I kept my face calm.

Jack leaned forward, voice rising.

“You people love your fairy tales. Silver wolf. Sovereign. Savior. Let me tell you what she is.” He jerked his chin toward me. “She is just another predator who found prettier words for her hunger.”

The darkness around him pulsed.

My power responded.

I could feel the corruption inside him now with horrifying clarity. Its edges. Its hunger. Its connection to something distant, stretched thin across space like a black thread disappearing beyond my reach.

Catherine.

Or Marcus.

Or both.

“You’re still afraid,” I said softly.

Jack bared his teeth. “I’m bored.”

Kieran stepped forward. “Don’t worry, things are about to get exciting.”

His voice increased, booming around the field. “For the lives taken under your command. For the victims trafficked, altered, and murdered through your network. For the attacks launched against allied territories and civilians. The tribunal finds you guilty.”

The square inhaled as one.

Jack’s grin returned, but tension pulled at his features, his bravado now straining against an undercurrent of dread.

“Tribunal,” he mocked. “How fancy.”

Kieran stepped down from the raised platform.

A guard placed a silver execution blade in his hand.

The sound of the weapon leaving its sheath seemed to slice through the entire square.

Reporters surged forward until the perimeter guards pushed them back.

Some civilians looked away. Others stared.

Jack’s breathing changed ever so slightly, but his eyes remained hard.

“You claimed yourself unkillable,” Kieran continued. “Under authority from the werewolf council, we will test that theory.”

He stopped in front of Jack, blade angled toward the ground.

“Any final words?”

Jack lifted his chin. The darkness in his eyes churned, frantic beneath his defiance.

“My father will burn your precious alliance to ash,” he said. “Catherine will peel your minds open and make puppets out of everyone you love. And when I come back—”

He turned his smile to me, fangs piercing through his lips. “I’ll start with your precious son.”

Kieran raised the blade.

For one suspended second, everything narrowed to silver metal, Jack’s exposed throat, and the wind sweeping through the square.

Then my senses screamed—a rupture opening beneath the southern perimeter.

I turned sharply. “Kieran!”

Kieran’s blade halted an inch from Jack’s throat. He turned to me just as the ground exploded.

Black smoke erupted between paving stones as three figures tore through the ward line from below, cloaked in dark sigils and carrying the unmistakable scent of dark magic.

Alois shouted a command.

Corin’s psychic net snapped tight.

Across the square, the smoke twisted into the shape of wolves with hollow eyes and no souls.

Guards surged forward.

The crowd erupted into panic.

Jack threw his head back and laughed, wild and triumphant.

“Fucking finally!”

Marcus had finally made his move.