CHAPTER 331: RELEASE HIM

Zane~

Justice had finally been delivered.

The last echoes of Darius’s and Timothy’s wails trailed off into the stone corridors of the palace like smoke thinning into the night, leaving behind a silence that seemed louder than their screams. My chest rose and fell in steady waves, the weight of what my Natalie had endured now melting into a slow-burning triumph. It wasn’t just victory—it was survival, vindication, and something even sweeter when paired with the warmth of her hand wrapped firmly in mine.

The grand hall of the Lycan palace seemed to breathe with us. Chandeliers threw shards of golden light across floors, catching on the steel edges of armor, the shimmer of gowns, and the eyes of every soul gathered. Their murmurs rippled like an unsettled tide—half respect, half anticipation.

My father sat tall and commanding on his throne beside us, his broad shoulders squared as though still bracing against an invisible storm. His silver-threaded hair did nothing to soften the sharp cut of his profile. Those blue eyes, identical to mine, held something deeper than approval. A storm brewed there: pain not yet buried, pride he couldn’t put into words, memories that refused to let him breathe freely even now.

A little further off, Jacob looked entirely out of place on his ceremonial seat. His hair had fallen back into that youthful, deliberately careless mess of black strands, the very picture of mischief itself. Yet there was weight behind the sparkle in his warm eyes, the kind of wisdom that made even his smirks feel like riddles only he understood. He lounged like this was nothing more than a gathering for amusement, but I knew better. Jacob was always watching, always weighing the balance between chaos and order.

And then there was Natalie—my mate, my fire. My goddess, my anchor. She leaned against me, her presence humming through every inch of my skin like the charge before a summer storm. In our shared mind link, her voice spilled soft and contented, humming like a lullaby made only for me. Her emotions danced against mine, sparking, flaring, then softening again—fireworks against the night sky of my soul. Every brush of her hand, every spark of her laughter in my mind, reminded me why I could face monsters and come back whole.

A few minutes later, the steady rhythm of boots against stone echoed through the hall. The guards entered first, their armor clanking with a grim purpose that filled the air like the toll of a funeral bell. They dragged in the next prisoners, and with them came a shift in the atmosphere—a ripple of curiosity, and barely concealed anticipation from those watching.

At the front was Nathan—my uncle, once paraded as the Prince of this realm, now nothing more than a hollow figure in chains. His regal presence had rotted away, leaving only the shell of a man. The fine robes he had once flaunted with arrogance now hung in tatters, clinging to his gaunt frame. His face, once polished and smug, was drawn and shadowed, the hollows beneath his cheekbones making him look more specter than royal. The silver cuffs around his wrists burned into his skin, suppressing his wolf, and I almost swore I could smell the faint tang of scorched flesh with each step he took.

Behind him stumbled Nora and Charlie, and gods, how different they were from the guardians I once trusted. Once, I had looked to them as pillars of loyalty. Now they were husks of betrayal, dragged before me to face the weight of their sins.

Nora barely seemed capable of standing. Her skin was pale, slick with a sheen of sweat that plastered stray strands of hair against her clammy forehead. Her eyes darted around wildly, never settling—searching, pleading, breaking. Her whole body trembled under the slow-burning agony of silver threaded into her very bones. I remembered the decision clearly, how Sebastian and I had insisted on that punishment, ensuring her suffering was carved into her marrow itself. The sight of it stirred no pity in me now. Only the cold reminder of how far trust could be shattered.

Charlie was a shadow of the man I once knew. His burly frame, once an image of brute strength, now sagged beneath invisible weight. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one sounding like it scraped against the jagged edge of his lungs. His eyes were vacant, distant, lost in some fractured corner of his mind. Madness had crept in, leaving him half-aware and wholly broken. He likely didn’t even realize we had uncovered every secret he thought was buried—secrets that had poisoned our kingdom from within.

Watching them stumble closer, I felt a flicker of grim satisfaction. Justice wasn’t clean, nor was it swift—it was deliberate. It was drawn out, a mirror of the betrayal they had dealt us. Eagle, my steadfast brother-in-law, had seen to that while they were confined in Paris under my roof. His vigilance had been merciless, his creativity in their torment unmatched. Their suffering hadn’t been accidental—it had been curated, exquisite, the kind of reckoning that made sure they would never forget the choices that led them here.

The crowd—hundreds of Lycans and werewolves from across the kingdom, packed into the hall’s vast expanse—erupted in a wave of shocked murmurs as Nathan was shoved to his knees before the dais. Gasps rippled through the assembly like a gust of wind through autumn leaves. I could see it on their faces: wide eyes, furrowed brows, hands clutching at neighbors’ arms. Prince Nathan? The beloved brother of the king? Standing trial like a common criminal? Whispers flew like arrows: "What madness is this?" "Prince Nathan? It can’t be!" "He’s always been so kind, so generous to the packs!"

Natalie squeezed my hand tighter, her voice a soft, feisty whisper in my ear, laced with that sarcastic edge I adored. "Look at them, Zane. They’re staring like they’ve seen a ghost rise from the cursed lands. Your uncle’s got quite the fan club."

I turned to her, my possessive instincts flaring as I pulled her closer, inhaling the scent of wildflowers that clung to her. "They won’t be fans for long, my love. Not when the truth strips him bare." My words were low, intimate, but my heart pounded with the weight of it all—the years of hidden grief, the siblings I’d never known, slaughtered in their cradles because of this man’s ambition.

My father leaned forward, his voice gravelly with fury, addressing the herald—a tall, stern figure in royal crimson robes—who stood at the ready with a scroll clutched in his hands. "Proceed, Herald. Let the kingdom hear the sins of those who would betray their blood."

The herald unrolled the parchment with a dramatic flourish, his voice booming through the hall, amplified by the acoustics of the ancient stone. "Hear ye, subjects of the Lycan throne! Prince Nathan Moor, brother to His Majesty King Anderson Moor, stands accused of heinous crimes against the crown and the realm!"

The crowd hushed, leaning in, but I could feel the tension building, a storm cloud gathering.

"First," the herald intoned, his tone grave and steady, "the murder of King Anderson’s children—innocent heirs slain one by one in a bid to usurp the throne. Poison in the nursery, assassins in the shadows, all orchestrated by Nathan’s hand to eliminate any rightful successors."

Gasps exploded from the assembly, sharp and disbelieving. A woman in the front row clutched her chest, her face paling. "No! Not the prince!" Murmurs swelled: "The lost princes and princesses... it was him?"

"Second," the herald continued, undeterred, his voice cutting through the rising din like lightning, "the assassination of Queen Olivia Moor, beloved mate of the king, three years after the birth of Prince Zane. Struck down in cold blood to shatter the royal line and pave Nathan’s path to power."

More shocks rippled out—cries of horror, some weeping openly. I glanced at my father; his jaw clenched, eyes glistening with unshed tears. The pain of losing my mother, a wound that had never fully healed, now laid bare for all to see.

"Third, conspiracy with traitors Nora and Charlie, entrusted guardians of young Prince Zane, who instead served Nathan’s dark ambitions. They plotted his death, tormented his son Prince Alexander Moor with overheard schemes, and awaited the discovery of the Celestial Princess to seize her for Nathan’s gain—planning to murder King Anderson and Prince Zane in the night, only to be thwarted and imprisoned."

Nora whimpered from her knees, her voice weak and confused, trembling with the silver’s poison. "W-what? No... we... we protected him... didn’t we, Charlie? The boy... Zane... we raised him..."

Charlie groaned, his head lolling, eyes unfocused. "Pain... so much pain... what have we done? Nathan... promised us..."

The crowd’s agitation grew, a mix of outrage and sympathy swirling like a vortex. Many had loved Nathan—he’d played the part of the benevolent prince so well, distributing alms to the poor packs, attending festivals with a charming smile, whispering promises of prosperity. "This can’t be true!" a burly werewolf shouted from the back. "Prince Nathan helped my village during the famine! He’s no murderer!"

Others nodded fervently, voices rising in a chaotic chorus. "The crown’s jealous! Trying to tarnish his name!" "Where’s the proof? You can’t accuse royalty without evidence!" Sympathy bloomed like weeds—eyes turning pitying toward Nathan, who knelt there with feigned innocence, his gaunt face twisted into a mask of wounded betrayal.

Nathan seized the moment, his voice rising in a dramatic plea, chains rattling as he lifted his bound hands toward the crowd. "My people! My loyal subjects! Do you hear these lies? These fabrications spun by a throne desperate to cling to power?" His tone was masterful—quivering with faux emotion, eyes welling with crocodile tears. "I loved my brother! I mourned my nieces and nephews as if they were my own! And Queen Olivia—gods rest her soul—she was like a sister to me! How could I, your kind prince, commit such atrocities?"

The crowd stirred more violently, some cheering his name—"Nathan! Nathan!"—others arguing heatedly among themselves. A young she-wolf near the front wiped tears, crying out, "He’s innocent! Please release him!" Fists pumped in the air, bodies pressing forward against the guards’ line. The air thickened with unrest, the scent of confusion and budding rebellion sharp in my nostrils. Red, growled low in my chest, possessive fury rising—not just for the throne, but for Natalie, for Alex, for the family this man had torn apart.

Natalie tensed beside me, her feisty spirit igniting. She leaned forward, her voice cutting through the noise with sarcastic bite. "Oh, please, Uncle Dearest. Spare us the theatrics. We all know you’re about as innocent as a rogue in a sheep pen." Her eyes sparkled with that energetic fire, glancing at me as if to say, Watch this, my love.

Jacob chuckled from his seat, his warm brown eyes dancing with mischief. "Little moon, let him dig his grave deeper. It’s entertaining." His tone was light, but underlying it was that ancient power, a reminder of who—or what—he truly was.

My father rose slightly, his voice a rumble. "Nathan, your silver tongue won’t save you this time. The evidence is irrefutable—confessions from your own men and records of your poisons."

But Nathan ignored him, turning his plea to the crowd, drawing more sympathy. "See? They twist everything! I helped during hard times, shared my wealth— and this is my reward? Banishment? Execution? Have mercy on a faithful servant of the realm!"

The agitation peaked—shouts echoing off the walls, bodies surging, guards straining to hold the line. A bottle shattered somewhere in the back, and I felt the thrill of impending chaos, my heart racing with the drama of it all. My possessive grip on Natalie’s waist tightened; no one would threaten this moment, this justice.

That’s when I stood, my voice ringing out like a thunderclap, amplified by my alpha command, slicing through the tumult and silencing the hall in an instant. "That’s enough!"

The word hung in the air, heavy and absolute. Every eye snapped to me, the crowd freezing mid-shout, breaths held. My charisma, that enigmatic aura I’d honed as CEO Cole Lucky in the human world, now unleashed in full Lycan force. I locked eyes with Nathan, my tone laced with cold fury and unbreakable authority. "You will not manipulate this kingdom any longer, Uncle. The truth will be laid bare, and your sympathy? It dies here."

Natalie whispered beside me, her voice a flirtatious caress through our link: That’s my possessive king. So commanding... it makes a girl weak in the knees.

I smirked inwardly, my love for her swelling amidst the tension, but outwardly, I held the silence, the crowd’s agitation quelled, hanging on my next words.