Chapter 11
582words
Elder Whitehawk raised his staff for order. "The defendant has pleaded guilty to all charges. The Council will now determine her sentence."
I watched Ethan's face as the reality sank in. His fated mate—a lie. His sacred bond—artificial. Everything he'd believed in—destroyed.
"Exile," Elder Whitehawk declared. "Cassandra Stone will be stripped of all magical abilities and banished beyond our borders."
Ethan's voice cracked. "She destroyed lives! Manipulated sacred bonds!"
"The Council has spoken."
I saw something break inside Ethan. His shoulders sagged. The proud Alpha who had once commanded respect now looked lost and hollow.
Perfect.
"Furthermore," Elder Whitehawk continued, his ancient eyes scanning the assembly, "this incident raises serious concerns about leadership and decision-making within our Packs."
The words hit Ethan like physical blows. He flinched visibly.
"What are you implying?" he demanded.
"That perhaps it's time for new leadership."
The hall fell silent. Everyone understood the implications.
Fenrir stepped forward from where he had been standing beside me.
The magnificent spirit wolf's presence commanded immediate attention. His golden eyes blazed with power fully restored after Cassandra's confession.
"My Alpha," Fenrir said, his voice like distant thunder. "The corruption has been cleansed. Our bond is complete."
The moment I placed my hand on Fenrir's massive head, power exploded through the hall.
Pure, overwhelming energy that sent every wolf to their knees—everyone except Damon, who stood steady beside me.
The bond settled deeper into my bones. This was my true strength, finally unleashed.
"Behold," Elder Whitehawk said, struggling to his feet. "The true Alpha heir. The rightful guardian bond, fully restored."
Fenrir's golden eyes fixed on Ethan with unmistakable judgment.
"You," the spirit wolf growled, "who would choose lies over truth. Who would support corruption for selfish desire."
Ethan stumbled backward, his face white.
"The spirits themselves reject your leadership," Fenrir continued.
Elder Whitehawk's voice cut through the tension. "Given recent events, the Council questions the current leadership's judgment. An Alpha who cannot detect basic deception..."
He let the words hang in the air.
"I call for a formal review of Alpha succession rights," Damon said, stepping forward with quiet authority.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Ethan spun toward his half-brother, fury blazing in his eyes.
"You dare challenge me?"
"I challenge your fitness to lead," Damon replied calmly. "The evidence speaks for itself."
Elder Whitehawk nodded slowly. "The challenge is noted. Given the circumstances, the Council will convene to review succession rights."
Ethan's face twisted with rage and desperation. "This is treason!"
"This is law," Elder Whitehawk corrected. "And justice."
The crowd began to disperse, voices buzzing with shock and speculation.
As the hall emptied, Ethan approached me. His eyes held a strange mixture of anger and something else—something that looked almost like recognition.
"Sienna," he said quietly. "I need to speak with you. Privately."
I studied his face. There was something different in his expression. Something that made my pulse quicken.
"Why?"
"Because," he said, his voice dropping to barely a whisper, "I think we both know this conversation is long overdue."
The weight of his words settled between us.
I glanced at Damon, who nodded slightly. He understood.
"The old oak," I said finally. "One hour."
Ethan's eyes flashed with something that might have been relief.
"One hour," he agreed.
As he walked away, I felt the familiar chill of destiny shifting around us.
Some conversations could only happen in the shadows.
And some truths could only be spoken under the moon.
