CHAPTER 5 Framed in Silver

Get up, 402! On your feet before I drag you out by your hair!

The iron toed boot of an enforcer slammed into the base of the thin, moldy mattress. Valerie jolted awake, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The basement cell was tiny, barely a closet, and now it was filled with the overwhelming scent of aggressive Alpha tier enforcers.

What is happening? Valerie gasped, shielding her eyes from the blinding beam of a tactical flashlight. I'm supposed to be in the kitchens in ten minutes. I haven't done anything.

Shut it, thief, Enforcer Jace spat. He was the same man she had treated for a broken femur a year ago. Now, he looked at her with pure, unadulterated loathing. Search the room. Tear everything apart.

Search? For what? Valerie scrambled into the corner, her tattered servant's tunic clinging to her cold damp skin. Jace, look at me! Why are you doing this?

Move her! Jace barked, ignoring her plea.

Two guards grabbed Valerie by the arms, hoisting her up and pinning her against the rough stone wall. She watched in silent, isolated terror as they ripped her one thin blanket to shreds. They threw her single spare tunic into the grime of the floor. Then, Jace reached for the mattress.

Check the lining, a voice called from the doorway.

Valerie's breath hitched. Cynthia stood there, wrapped in a plush fur coat, her hand tucked into Killian's arm. Killian looked like a statue carved from winter ice, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere above Valerie's head.

Killian, what is this? Valerie cried out. Tell them to stop. I haven't stolen anything!

The Moonstone Chalice is missing from the Alpha vault, Valerie, Killian said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the small room. It was seen last night. This morning, the vault was empty.

The Chalice? Why would I take that? I can't even sell it! It's a sacred pack heirloom!

Maybe you wanted to hurt the pack, Cynthia suggested, her voice dripping with artificial sadness. Or maybe you just wanted to spite Killian by taking the very thing used for the Luna's coronation. It's okay, Valerie. Just tell us where it is, and maybe Killian will be merciful.

I don't have it! I was in the kitchens until midnight scrubbing the grease traps!

Found it! Jace yelled.

Valerie's stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. Jace stood up, his hand emerging from a slit in the side of Valerie's mattress, a slit she hadn't made. Between his fingers, the Moonstone Chalice gleamed, its silver surface catching the flashlight's glare, the large moonstone at its center pulsing with a faint, mocking light.

No, Valerie whispered, her voice failing. No, no, no. I didn't put that there. I've never even seen the inside of the vault!

It was in your bed, Valerie, Killian said, finally looking at her. The disgust in his eyes was a physical blow. How much more evidence do I need?

It was planted! Killian, think! I was in the kitchen! Cynthia's maid, Elara, I saw her near the servant stairs three hours ago! Check the security logs for the vault corridor!

Cynthia let out a soft, theatrical gasp. Are you blaming my poor Elara now? She's been with me since I arrived. She wouldn't know how to open the vault.

The logs, Killian! Valerie screamed as the guards began dragging her toward the door. The vault has a biometric and card swipe log! Check them! They will show you I wasn't there!

I don't need to check logs to know who has a motive to humiliate this pack, Killian snapped, his Alpha pressure flaring, making the air in the narrow hallway feel like lead. Your jealousy of Cynthia has finally driven you to criminal theft. You wanted to take the Chalice so she couldn't use it at the ceremony. It's pathetic, Valerie.

I am not jealous of a woman who has to frame a servant to feel secure! Valerie spat, her eyes flashing with a spark of her old fire.

Cynthia's face contorted for a split second before she buried it in Killian's shoulder. See? She's so bitter, Killian. It's frightening.

Take her to the Judgment Hall, Killian commanded. Now.

The Judgment Hall was packed. It felt like the entire pack had gathered to watch the final fall of the woman who had once been their Luna elect. Valerie was forced onto her knees in the center of the cold marble floor. Above her, on the high dais, sat the High Elder, a man whose life Valerie had extended by three years with her specialized heart tinctures.

He didn't look at her like a patient. He looked at her like a stain.

Valerie of the Blackwood Pack, the High Elder intoned, his voice echoing. You stand accused of the theft of a sacred heirloom. The evidence was found within your personal quarters. How do you plead?

I am innocent, Valerie said, her voice echoing back at her. I was framed. I ask the council to review the digital logs of the vault. I ask for a scent trace on the Chalice itself. My scent won't be on it.

The Alpha has already reviewed the circumstances, the Elder replied coldly. He has deemed your motive sufficient and the physical evidence absolute.

The Alpha is compromised by his bias! Valerie yelled, turning her head to look at Killian, who stood to the side, his arms crossed. Killian, look at the logs! Why are you afraid to look at the truth?

The truth is that you're a liability, Killian said, stepping forward. The logs are pack property. I will not have our security protocols picked apart by a thief looking for a loophole. You were found with the item. That is the end of the discussion.

It's not a loophole, it's justice!

Justice is for those who respect the pack, Killian countered. You've done nothing but cause trouble since you were stripped of your rank. This theft is the final straw.

The High Elder cleared his throat, the sound like dry leaves. The theft of a sacred heirloom by a member of the servant class carries a mandatory physical sentence to ensure the spirits of the ancestors are appeased. Valerie, for the crime of grand theft and desecration of the Alpha vault, you are sentenced to five strikes of the silver tipped whip.

A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Silver tipped whips didn't just hurt; they left scars that never fully healed on a wolf's skin. The silver would burn into her nerves, a permanent reminder of her shame.

Five strikes? Valerie's voice was a ghost of itself. That could kill an omega in my condition. I haven't eaten a full meal in days, I'm exhausted

Then you should have thought of that before you stole from the Alpha, Jace sneered from the sidelines.

High Elder, please, Valerie begged, looking up at the old man. I saved your life. I treated your granddaughter's lung rot. Please, just check the logs. Five minutes. That's all I'm asking for.

The High Elder looked at Killian. Alpha? Do you wish to exercise your right of stay? Do you wish to investigate further?

Cynthia leaned in, whispering loud enough for the front rows to hear. If you let her go now, Killian, it shows the pack that anyone can steal our history and get away with it if they just cry loud enough.

Killian took a step toward the clerk, who held the leather bound book of executions. He picked up the heavy fountain pen.

Killian, don't do this, Valerie whispered, the hot sting of tears finally blurring her vision. If you sign that, there is no coming back. You are sentencing an innocent woman to torture.

Killian's hand didn't shake. He didn't hesitate. He didn't even blink as he pressed the nib to the paper.

The law is the law, Killian said, his voice flat and dead.

He scrawled his signature, the sharp, jagged K that Valerie used to find so beautiful on the love notes he'd leave on her pillow. He slammed the book shut and handed the pen back to the clerk.

Carry out the sentence, Killian ordered. Immediately.

Cynthia leaned back against her chair, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across her lips as she watched the guards unbuckle the silver tipped whip from the wall.

Wait, Valerie gasped as they grabbed her shoulders to drag her toward the whipping post. Killian, look at me! Look at me while you do this!

Killian turned his back.

Tie her up, the High Elder commanded.

As the guards forced Valerie's arms into the leather binders of the post, she saw Cynthia's maid, Elara, standing in the shadows of the pillars. The girl was holding a small, silver card key, the kind used for the vault. Elara caught Valerie's eye and winked before slipping the key into her apron.

Valerie opened her mouth to scream, but the first snap of the whip through the air silenced everything else.

Strike one! the guard yelled.

The silver tipped leather hissed as it arched toward Valerie's bared back.