Chapter 5

The next day was the first trial of my case, and the last as well in the onlookers eyes. In their eyes, I had already been proven guilty just because a woman had pointed her fingers at me.

I wonder if it's really true that your truth has no value if you are considered manly in the society. Only women who are fragile and weak has the right to seek justice?

However, the Great Hall of the Lycan Court did not feel like a place of justice; it felt like a slaughterhouse polished in marble.

As I was marched down the center aisle, the shackles dragging heavily against the floor, the silence was more deafening than any scream.

Hundreds of high-ranking wolves and pack leaders lined the pews, their eyes burning with a collective, predatory hatred.

"Filth," a voice hissed from the front row. I didn't turn to look.

"To think an Alpha blood would sink so low," another muttered, followed by the sound of someone spitting on the stone path just inches from my feet.

The vitriol was a physical weight. These were people I had traded with, fought alongside, and respected.

Now, I was a rapist in their eyes.

To them a fragile girl's accusation held more value than the bond they shared with me earlier.

At the head of the hall sat the Lycan King, not a middle-aged silver haired man I expected, but a young man with a body like ancient God.

I wondered what a fool Rosemary was to lose her virginity with some random lover when she was going to have such a beauty in her bed to deflower her.

The moment our eyes met, I instantly lowered my head, panicked. His golden eyes tracked me with a terrifying stillness.

Beside him sat Alpha Thorne, his face a mask of righteous fury.

"Alexander of the Silver Crescent Pack," the King’s voice boomed, vibrating in my very marrow. "The charges of assault against a future Queen are punishable by the Executioner’s Moon. Before the blade is drawn, have you any final words of defense?"

I stood tall, the cold iron biting into my wrists. "I have only the truth, Your Majesty. But the truth is not mine alone to tell."

I looked toward the witness stand. Rosemary sat there, draped in a veil of mourning black, her hands trembling in her lap.

Alpha Thorne leaned over to her, his hand gripping her shoulder in a way that looked supportive to the crowd, but to me, it looked like a vice.

"Lady Thorne," the King addressed her, his tone softening slightly. "Step forward. Confirm the identity of your attacker so we may end this stain on our history."

The room held its breath. Alpha Thorne gave her a firm nudge, a silent command to deliver the killing blow.

Rosemary stood. Her legs seemed to wobble as she descended the stairs toward the center of the floor where I stood. The crowd began to murmur, expecting a tearful accusation, perhaps even a slap across my face.

She stopped two feet from me.

Then, the world stopped spinning.

Rosemary Thorne didn’t point a finger. Instead, her knees hit the marble with a sharp crack.

She sank into a deep, subservient kneel at my feet, her forehead nearly touching my boots.

The Great Hall exploded—not with noise, but with a collective gasp so sharp it sucked the oxygen from the room. Alpha Thorne leaped to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor.

"Rosemary! What the hell are you doing?" he roared.

"I cannot do it," she whispered, her voice gaining strength until it echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "I cannot let an innocent man die for the sins he never committed."