The Lycan's Broken Moon

Decision on sentencing

Cassian POV

The pack house looked smaller than I remembered.

I had visited Shadow Vale territory twice before. both times under heavy guard, both times with treaties in hand and war in my heart. But seeing it now, through the lens of my own power, I realized how fragile it all was. Wooden beams pretending to be walls. Paper decrees pretending to be law. An Alpha pretending to be a king.

I stepped through the front doors. Hazel was two paces behind me, her presence a silent promise of violence if anyone moved wrong. The great hall stretched before me, all rough-hewn stone and desperate opulence. They'd tried to make it look like a palace.

They'd failed.

Three figures waited in the center of the room.

Marcus Blackwood stood in the middle, his shoulders squared. His jaw set in a stubborn line that might have looked brave if I couldn't smell the fear rolling off him in waves.

To his left, Lilith fidgeted with her dress. Her eyes were darting everywhere, looking for an escape that didn't exist. To his right, Logan, the boy who had struck my mate. He stood with his hands clenched, trying to look defiant and achieving only petulant.

"Your Majesty." Hazel's voice cut through the silence like a blade.

She dropped to one knee, her fist over her heart, her head bowed low. The gesture was deliberate. Calculated. Performed precisely where all three could see it.

The effect was immediate.

Marcus's knees buckled first. He hit the stone floor hard, his face draining of color as the reality of his situation finally crashed down on him. Lilith followed a heartbeat later, her legs giving out, a whimper escaping her throat. Logan was last, sinking down slowly, his eyes fixed on me with dawning horror.

I almost laughed.

"Rise, Beta," I said, my voice carrying the weight of centuries. Hazel stood, her eyes flicking to mine with barely concealed satisfaction. She lived for these moments. theatrical, dramatic, utterly devastating.

I walked past the kneeling wolves, barefoot. I was still wearing the rough clothes I had pulled from my emergency cache in the woods. I could feel their eyes on me. I was confused, frightened, wondering how the naked rogue from the forest had become this.

Let them wonder.

"Clothes." I said, and a servant appeared from the shadows, bearing my own garments. black silk and silver thread, the crown of the Lycan King heavy in his hands. I dressed slowly, leisurely, letting them watch. Letting them understand exactly who they had tried to kill.

The tunic slid over my shoulders, the familiar weight of royalty settling onto my skin. The trousers, tailored to perfection. The boots, soft leather that had walked through three centuries of war and peace. And finally, the crown. Obsidian and amber, ancient and terrible.

I sat on the throne they had provided. not my own, but sufficient. A chair of dark wood and older power. I settled into it, crossing my legs, studying my nails as if I had all the time in the world.

"Well," I murmured, mostly to myself. "How do I deal with this?"

The silence stretched. I could hear their breathing. Marcus's ragged, Lilith's panicked, Logan's terrified. Three wolves who had thought themselves powerful. Three wolves who had struck my mate, bound her, planned her death.

Kill them, Ezra suggested, casual as discussing the weather. Start with the males. Make the female watch.

Tempting, I thought back. But messy. And she wouldn't like it.

She would learn to like it.

I almost smiled. Instead, I looked up, meeting Marcus's eyes for the first time since I'd entered.

"You," I said, my voice soft. "You hit her."

Marcus flinched. "Your Majesty, I never- I didn't know-"

"You ordered her death." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "You called her worthless. You planned to sell her to me, ironically enough, as if she were cattle." I tilted my head. "And now you kneel."

I turned my attention to Lilith. She was shaking, her perfect composure shattered, her scar livid against her pale skin.

"You," I continued. "You tried to kill your sister. You hired rogues. You struck her. You planned to sell her to the Lycan King before your father ever suggested it." I paused, letting the words sink in. "What should I do with you?"

"Please," Lilith whispered, her voice cracking. "I didn't know. I didn't know you were the king. I thought-" She swallowed hard. "I thought you were just a rogue. A nobody. If I'd known, I never would have-"

"Never would have what?" I interrupted. "Never would have tried to murder her? Never would have betrayed her?" I leaned forward again, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Your apology is not accepted, Lilith Blackwood. Your ignorance is not an excuse." I narrowed my eyes on her. I watched as she gulped down her own spew hard.

She was crying now, silent tears tracking down her face. "Please," she repeated. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just... please."

I studied her for a long moment. The room held its breath. Hazel shifted beside me, curious, wondering which direction I would go.

"Anything?" I asked, my voice thoughtful.

"Anything," Lilith confirmed, desperate hope blooming in her eyes. She gave a continuous nod. Not thinking, just wanted a way out.

I smiled. It was not a kind smile.

"One thing," I said, rising from my throne. "I want one thing from you, Lilith Blackwood. From all of you." I paused, letting the anticipation build. "But first... I think someone else deserves to see this."

I turned to Hazel. "Bring her."