Throne Of Rogues

Chapter 1

The wood-paneled walls of the Crestware Superior Courtroom felt less like a hall of justice and more like an operating theater. And Reina Greenbriar was the surgeon holding the scalpel.

Adjusting the cuffs of her charcoal-grey tailored blazer, Reina looked down at the massive pile of financial ledgers stacked neatly on her defense table. Beside her sat David Vance, a young entrepreneur whose skin had gone the color of spoiled milk. He was trembling so violently that the water in his plastic cup sloshed against the brim.

"Mr. Vance," Reina said, her voice dropping into a low octave that didn't carry an ounce of superfluous warmth. "If you do not stop vibrating, I will let the opposition dissect you alive. Sit up. Look at the judge. And let me do what I was born to do, before you affect my appetite with your nerves."

David swallowed hard and clamped his hands to his knees. "But Miss Greenbriar... the prosecution has the offshore wire transfers. They have my signature on the shell company’s articles of incorporation. If I'm convicted of corporate tax fraud, my life is over. My brother-"

"Your brother is a parasite who underestimated who you hired," Reina interrupted coldly, her emerald-green eyes flashing toward the prosecution’s bench.

Sitting across the aisle was Arthur Vance, David’s older brother and former business partner, flanked by a team of high-priced corporate lawyers who looked smug enough to pop. Arthur was smirking, adjusting his silk tie with the arrogance of a man who believed he had successfully redirected a multi-million-dollar embezzlement scandal onto his naive younger sibling. Which he almost had.

Reina didn't smirk. Smirking was an emotional tell. She merely opened her leather portfolio, her long, elegant fingers sorting through a series of metadata forensic reports with absolute precision.

Unfortunately for that cocky son of an unmentionable, she was yet to lose a case, and today would not be start of it .

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Harrison," the bailiff droned.

The courtroom fell into a tense, heavy silence as the silver-haired judge took the bench. He adjusted his glasses, looking over the final filings of the case that had dragged on for three grueling weeks. The prosecution had built what looked like an airtight cage around David: missing inventory, forged invoices, and systematic tax evasion that had bled the state treasury of millions.

"We are here for the final arguments regarding the state’s motion for immediate asset seizure and a summary judgment against the defendant, David Vance," Judge Harrison announced, his deep voice echoing off the high ceilings. "The prosecution has presented a formidable trail of breadcrumbs. Miss Greenbriar, the floor is yours to explain why I shouldn't sign this warrant and hand your client a twenty-year sentence."

Reina stood up. The movement was entirely fluid, radiating the unyielding, dominant grace of pure Alpha blood, even if she currently had her inner wolf locked behind a fortress of chemical suppressants.

"Thank you, Your Honor," Reina began, her voice carrying a crisp, bell-like clarity that instantly commanded the room. "The prosecution has indeed presented a trail of breadcrumbs. The problem is that they followed them blindly, entirely unconcerned with who actually baked the bread."

A soft murmur rippled through the gallery. Arthur Vance’s smirk faltered slightly at the prosecution table.

"Let us examine the facts, devoid of emotional bias," Reina continued, walking slowly toward the center of the courtroom. She tapped a button on her remote, and a massive timeline flashed onto the digital projectors above the jury box. "The prosecution contends that my client initiated thirty-two separate wire transfers to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands between 2024 and 2025. They have verified that his digital token was used, as well as his personal signature. Case closed, correct?"

"It is an open-and-shut matter of forensic accounting, Your Honor," the lead prosecutor spoke up, leaning back in his leather chair.

"It would be, if you actually understood how a digital token tokenized through a local corporate intranet functions," Reina retorted, her green eyes cutting through the prosecutor like broken glass. "Your Honor, I submit Defense Exhibit G—the security access logs for Vance Logistics' primary server room during those exact thirty-two instances."

Reina brought up a secondary spreadsheet. "David Vance founded this logistics company three years ago. He is a brilliant operational mind, but as his initial tax filings show, his grasp of complex corporate compliance was virtually non-existent. He trusted his older brother, Arthur Vance, to handle the financial architecture."

"Objection!" the prosecution’s lawyer roared, standing up. "This is baseless mudslinging against a state witness!"

"It isn't mudslinging if I brought a power washer," Reina replied smoothly, her voice entirely flat, entirely lethal. "Look at the time stamps, Your Honor. Every single time a digital signature was generated from David’s token, my client was verified to be on a commercial flight or leading a site inspection at the Crestware cargo docks, miles away from a stable internet connection. Conversely, guess whose biometric keycard scanned into the server room exactly four minutes before each transfer?"

The projector zoomed in on a single name, highlighted in a stark, bloody red: Arthur Vance.

The courtroom erupted into a chaotic flurry of whispers. Arthur surged out of his chair, his face turning an ugly, mottled purple. "She’s lying! This is a fabrication! David gave me those keycards! He’s trying to pin his own incompetence on me!"

"Sit down, Mr. Vance!" Judge Harrison thundered, banging his gavel.

Reina didn't break her stride. She stepped closer to the opposition table, her gaze locked onto Arthur like a predator pinning a rabbit.

"Furthermore, we ran a forensic metadata analysis on the shell company's articles of incorporation. While David's digital signature is on the final page, the author of the original document, and it is indeed hidden deep within the file properties, belongs to a registered laptop owned by Arthur Vance's private estate. My client wasn't committing tax fraud. He was a cloistered, hardworking founder who was systematically framed by a brother envious of his sudden corporate ascent."

The discussion grew fiercely heated. Arthur’s legal team swarmed around him, whispering furiously, trying to erect an immediate defensive wall. His lead attorney stepped forward, sweating through his expensive shirt.

"Your Honor, these are administrative anomalies at best! My client is a respected partner! Even if the metadata suggests dual access, it does not absolve the defendant of his fiduciary duty! David Vance signed those tax returns!"

"He signed blank documents under the explicit, recorded instruction that his older brother was filing routine payroll extensions!" Reina fired back, her voice rising just enough to slam against the walls of the courtroom. "To call it a 'fiduciary failure' is a pathetic attempt to mask a deliberate, malicious corporate execution. David Vance was clueless. Arthur Vance was the architect."

"You arrogant little b***h-" Arthur snarled, taking a step toward Reina.

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Reina secretly flicked a finger and Arthur froze, his words choking up in his throat as he struggled to speak.

Although Reina’s wolf was heavily sedated by the suppressants she took every morning, the raw, ancient Alpha King lineage bleeding through her veins made itself known. A cold, suffocating pressure dropped over the courtroom, an invisible weight that made the human lawyers' lungs seize.

Reina didn't flinch. She simply stared at Arthur, her eyes darkening slightly, her expression so utterly devoid of humanity that the man choked on his own breath and stumbled backward into his chair.

Judge Harrison banged his gavel repeatedly, the echoes sounding like gunshots in the tense room.

"Order! I will have order in this court! One more outburst from the gallery and I will clear the room and issue immediate contempt citations!"

The judge fell into a long, agonizing silence, reviewing the digital forensic logs Reina had presented. The evidence was irrefutable. She had completely rewired the entire narrative of the crime from what they had been initially announced.

"Given the extraordinary nature of the forensic data presented by the defense," Judge Harrison finally declared, his tone grave, "this court finds that a summary judgment is entirely inappropriate at this juncture. This case is hereby deferred to a later date for a comprehensive evidentiary hearing. I am ordering a federal freeze on all accounts associated with Arthur Vance, and a formal subpoena is hereby issued for his personal electronic devices. All parties are required to attend."

The judge’s tacit admission was clear as day: David Vance was proven to be an innocent pawn. Arthur was the target now. The gavel dropped with a final, echoing crack.

Reina turned back to her table, a slow, incredibly cold smile blooming on her perfect features. It was a beautiful, terrifying expression of self-assured confidence.

David Vance collapsed back into his chair, entirely overwhelmed. The tears he had been holding back for three weeks finally breached the dam, spilling down his cheeks as he grabbed Reina’s hand.

"Thank you... oh my god, thank you, Miss Greenbriar. You saved me. You completely destroyed them."

Reina smoothly pulled her hand back from his grasp, avoiding the messy, emotional contact. She packed her laptop into her sleek leather portfolio, her manicured nails glinting against the case file. A deep, dark satisfaction curled in the pit of her stomach... a quiet, addictive pride that always came with proving that her mind was the sharpest weapon in Crestware City. Decades earlier, her dad was the king of this city, but now, everyone whispered her name in awe. Like father, like daughter, indeed.

She loved the silence of a won war. She loved the total, calculated destruction of an enemy who thought they could outsmart her.

"Save your tears for the civil suit we’re filing against your brother next week, Mr. Vance," Reina said evenly, sliding her portfolio under her arm. "My assistant will email you the billing statement for today’s appearance. Have a good afternoon."

She led her weeping client out of the courtroom, the gallery parting for her like a hot knife through butter. Human and shifter lawyers alike watched the Frost Princess pass with a mixture of profound awe and silent terror.

Another case turned despite the stacked odds. Another case that was soon to be won. And another piece of the city firmly secured under the Greenbriar heel.

Everything changed just as Reina stepped out of the courthouse and into the blinding afternoon sunlight. The dark satisfaction in her chest suddenly evaporated, replaced by a cold, leaden weight.

His father's new bride. She had almost forgotten that she was supposed to meet her to-be mother for dinner, after faking an emergency the previous few days when she discovered the engagement.

She checked her diamond-encrusted wristwatch. 5:30 PM. The dinner was to be at 8.

The courtroom was easy. The law was predictable. But tonight was the family dinner. Tonight, she had to return to her father's estate and face Rosalie Hamilton, the dangerous Mafia Queen who had threatened her father's life in a sweet embrace, all within five minutes of her introduction. Not to mention, the four insidious, rogue stepbrothers who were waiting to invade her world.

Reina’s grip on her leather portfolio tightened until her knuckles turned white. The Frost Princess was ready for a war, but as she stepped into her waiting black town car, she had a terrifying premonition that these four new monsters wouldn't be playing by her rules.