Agustin clenched his fists tighter around the file, though he knew there was nothing more he could do about the situation. A heavy wave of helplessness weighed over him, pressing his chest, smothering the fire of his pride. Still, no matter the cost, he had to endure this ordeal.

He rose slowly from his swirling chair, the motion deliberate, restrained, betraying a storm he refused to show. With careful hands, he rewrapped the velvet-bound book in its silk cloth, his eyes lingering again on its cover. Before placing it back on the shelf, he checked the inscription once more.

The title—The Beginning—was etched in bold italics on the first page, the author’s name absent, as if erased from existence. With a flicker of unease, Agustin tucked it away, straightened his coat, and left the room.

The Council’s Judgment

The Werewolf Law and Justice Council stood like a relic of history, its walls an imposing testament to 16th-century architecture. Heavy pillars lined the halls, and each stone whispered of centuries of trials, victories, and betrayals. The building, cloaked in age and authority, served as the unshakable foundation of werewolf law.

Humans were forbidden in these sacred halls—except for one. Raina, Luna of the Crescent Moon pack, had once broken this barrier nearly two decades ago, becoming the first human emissary. Her fight for human rights in the werewolf world had altered history, leaving scars and respect in equal measure.

Now, in the heart of the Council’s courtroom, Agustin sat stiffly on a simple wooden chair at the center of the chamber. A table in front of him bore scattered documents, and beside them rested a box. Inside lay a gun—the gun with which Nathan had begged for salvation. Agustin had offered it to him, commanded him to flee. And because of that choice, here he was.

The chamber loomed around him like an amphitheater, its audience seated in steps that rose high on every side. Wolves of every territory filled the benches, their gazes sharp, calculating, divided into four grand sections. Agustin sat on the lowest ground, branded the culprit. Above him on the higher tiers, the Alphas of great and small packs alike presided like silent predators awaiting a kill.

At the front of the chamber stood the throne of the Alpha of Alphas—the A.O.A.—a seat forged from the blades of every Alpha across the world, a mountain of steel embodying unity and power. Behind it, a towering sculpture of the Moon Goddess stood carved in stone, her hands resting near the shoulders of two colossal wolves—Ares and Arles. Arles’s likeness was larger, watching with unyielding dominance.

Eleven Lycans sat in rigid silence to the throne’s left, their presence heavy, while eleven Werewolves formed the jury on the right. In the rear sections, Alphas from across the globe crowded into the seats. A spectacle of this magnitude—an Alpha on trial—was destiny carved into stone.

Marcus, seated in the front, watched with a pitiful expression painted across his face, though his concealed laughter glimmered through his eyes.

“Alpha Agustin, leader of the Crescent Moon Pack,” a towering Lycan minister began, his voice a low thunder that rolled through the chamber. He loomed nearly seven feet tall, standing beside Agustin. “You are summoned here to answer before the Court of Werewolves—for aiding a human and assisting the runaway mate of a community member. Furthermore, you stand accused of supplying her with a weapon.”

The minister’s words echoed. Even in his authority, a tremor of unease flickered in his tone, for Agustin’s aura was not one easily dismissed.

Agustin lifted his head, his features etched with calm arrogance. “And what should I have done?” His tone was firm, detached, his eyes sharp as blades. “Let them be slaughtered—without reason, without mercy?” He turned deliberately to Marcus when he spoke, his words cutting through the silence.

Gasps rippled across the room. To most, Agustin was more than an Alpha. He was Aaron’s son, a demi-god, a hybrid with fire burning in his veins, where once thunder had run in his father’s. His presence was like standing near a storm, his eyes alive with smoldering heat. And yet, the court muttered and trembled—fear lined the faces of many, all except Marcus and the seated A.O.A.

“You should have persuaded him—persuaded his mate to return,” the Lycan minister rumbled. “That is the natural order, Alpha Agustin.” His voice swelled with judgment. “And let us not forget—the runaway she-wolf murdered the human and her daughter not long ago. Though her mate still seeks to forgive her, bound by the curse of nature, her crime cannot be denied.”

The chamber broke into murmurs of disgust. All eyes turned upon Agustin. To them, it was betrayal. To him, it was survival.

Agustin said nothing. He lifted his gaze but remained silent, his fists curling beneath the table. Inwardly, he thought only of Ivana, his mate. He had acted for her sake—and this silence was his shield.

The A.O.A. leaned forward in judgment, his voice measured, calm, authoritative. “Do you have anything to say in your defense, Alpha Agustin? Your silence could be taken as an admission of guilt.”

Still, Agustin offered silence.

At last, the judgment came.

The Lycan minister unfurled the verdict, the audience held breathless. “Alpha Agustin of the Crescent Moon pack. Based on presented evidence, testimony, and witness, you are hereby found guilty of aiding a human and a runaway wolf. The jury rules that the Crescent Moon pack is disqualified from the A.O.A. election. Alpha Agustin, you are no longer a candidate.”

His words struck like steel. But worse still came with the decree: a year of trade sanctions, and a fine of one thousand gold coins. A crippling blow.

Agustin’s hands squeezed so hard against the chair’s wooden arms that cracks formed beneath his fingers, though his expression remained carved from stone.

This was Marcus’s victory. If Agustin fell, Marcus would ascend unchecked—a fate more dangerous than the trial itself.

Paperwork was signed. Scarlet pouches of gold were thrown upon the Council’s table with contempt. Agustin left the court without a word.

**

Outside, the night’s cold air brushed against him. He reached for the car’s door handle—when a familiar voice slithered from behind.

“Well, well… what do we have here?” Marcus’s laughter was venom. “A defeated wolf, stripped by the system. I never thought I’d see the great Alpha Agustin look so small.”

Agustin turned, meeting his gaze with a smoldering glare. His voice was calm, dangerous. “Careful, Marcus Campbell. Wolves may be strong, but that does not make them kings of the jungle.”

Marcus chuckled, his voice gloating. “No, Alpha. Wolves are not kings of the jungle… but tell me—have you ever seen a wolf in a circus? No. Because wolves cannot be chained. We cannot be tamed. That is the beauty of what we are.”

His words lingered in the air like smoke. Agustin paused, heart heavy with the weight of their implications. Wolves untamed… but in Marcus’s hands, freedom would curdle into chaos.

Agustin said no more. He entered his car and drove into the night, silence his only shield. Behind him, Marcus watched with a smirk, already plotting his next move.

**

Far from the courtroom’s thunder, Olivia sat quietly in a sterile bathroom at M.C. Hospital & Medical Help. The harsh fluorescence glared above her, illuminating her pale face. Her hands trembled as she lifted the pregnancy stick where it had sat for two eternal minutes on the shelf.

Her breath caught.

Two lines. Clear. Unforgiving.

The result stared back at her with brutal clarity. For four long months, life had been growing inside her—and she hadn’t even known.

Her body trembled as the gravity of the truth sank deep: she was no longer just Olivia. She was a mother.