Riley’s POV

    The Elder Council precinct loomed before me, austere and imposing. Its white stone walls gleamed under the midday sun, and the

    argent crest of the Council glinted like a sentinel’s eye–watchful, unyielding, a symbol ofw and order that demanded respect. I took a deep breath, feeling my chest tighten with a mix of fear and determination. This was no ordinary path I was walking; there was no turning back now. Whatevery beyond those doors, I had chosen it, and it was the only way I could protect Carmen.

    I stepped forward, each footfall heavy on the polished steps. My wolf instincts hummed in my blood, coiled and alert, sensing the tension in the air. The lobby was empty except for a lone packwarden behind a wooden dais, his eyes flicking up at me with mild curiosity that sharpened into full attention as I approached.

    “I… I wish to surrender myself to the Council,” I said, voice low but resolute.

    The warden straightened, his posture stiffening, tail flicking slightly in agitation. “Surrender? You… what have you done?”

    I removed the hood and scarf that had shielded my face, revealing the exhaustion etched into my features. The scars of the past five years weighed on me like chains, each one a testament to the torment I had endured.

    “I killed them,” I said, letting the words fall with deliberate weight, tasting like ash in my mouth.

    His amber eyes contracted sharply. Murder. Blood spilled under my ws. His hands moved instinctively toward the Council’s signaling horn, but he hesitated, unnerved by the quiet conviction that radiated from me like heat from a wolf in full winter fur.

    The cold iron shackles mped around my wrists when he finally acted. The sensation was familiar, spine- tingling–not from fear, but from habit. Five years ago, I had taken the fall for Scarlett, carrying guilt that wasn’t mine. Five yearster, I chose to shoulder Carmen’s survival. The irony cut sharp and bitter.

    They led me into an interrogation chamber within the precinct–a small, circr room built with stone and reinforced oak, the walls echoing like the hollowedir of a mountain wolf. My senses were alert, every scent, every subtle vibration in the air, picked up by my wolf. The warden’s fear, his controlledposure–it all vored the tension like iron in the wind.

    “Sit,” hemanded, his voice firm, carrying the authority of the Elder Council. A carved obsidian te and a stylus rested on the table before me, ready to record every word, every confession.

    1 obeyed, hands gripping the edges of the chair so tightly that my knuckles whitened. My pulse thrummed in rhythmn with the memories wing at the back of my mind.

    “Tell me in detail. Who did you kill, where, how, and why?” His questions struck like throwing knives. I inhaled slowly, letting the memories sharpen in my mind like hunting des in moonlight.

    “I killed Otto Wilson… Selene Ashford. Maddox… and…” My voice cracked, raw and hoarse. Each name was

    a shard of memory, bloodied and jagged. The visions surged: Carmen’s eyes zing, the twisted faces of my enemies, the screams, the betrayal.

    The warden’s eyes widened fractionally with each name. He hadn’t expected the woman before him-

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    r

    21:27 Fri, 29 Aug

    ? ??? 23%2

    b+5 /bFree Coins

    slim, fragile, almost ethereal–to wield death with such precision. He tried to mask his shock, but the stylus scratched furiously across the obsidian te, desperate to keep pace with the story.

    “Are you certain these four were killed by you?” he asked again, probing for a crack in my resolve.

    I met his gaze, unwavering. “Yes. I killed them. Each of them deserved what came to them.”

    He scribbled furiously, disbelief etched in every line. “Exin… why?”

    I closed my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. The humiliations, assaults, betrayals–they came back in brutal rity. Otto Wilson’s violence, Selene Ashford’s schemes, Maddox’s treachery, the beatings and torment in the cell when I was med for crimes I did notmit. Each wound, each scar, was real, etched deep into my bones and blood.

    I told the truth. Lies would have been poison; the facts were potent enough, and my wolf’s reasoning was imprinted in every strike, every act.

    The warden continued to probe, asking and repeating questions, testing the boundaries of my resolve. There was no break, no falsehood. My memories were my shield, my wolf’s instincts sharpened as both sword and armor.

    Finally, he closed the te, preparing to have me escorted to a holding chamber pending further investigation. But before he could call for the pack guards, I moved.

    From my coat, I produced the vial of wolfsbane extract. The cork twisted off with a hiss. In one fluid motion, I drank it, the bitter liquid burning a path down my throat like fire and ice entwined. The vial ttered to the stone floor as my body trembled violently.

    The warden froze, eyes wide with horror. “What are you doing?!”

    But the act wasplete. My wolf roared inside me, furious, protective, instinctively knowing that this was the only way to ensure Carmen’s safety. If I lived, she would face retribution. If I died, the weight would rest solely on me, and justice–even wolf justice–would bnce, if only partially.

    Carmen… you are too good for this world. Mia needs you. Lucien, Matriarch Duskgrave, Mrs. Beck… don’t grieve for me. I have walked with death before, and I will walk with it again if it means you live. My life, bmy /bsuffering, my final breath–they are yours, and yours alone.

    I felt the wolfsbane begin to work, cold seeping into my veins like the howl of a distant alpha under a blood moon. But even as my body weakened, a strange rity overtook me. I had fought. I had endured horrors few could imagine. I had protected, avenged, survived. And even in my final act, there was power.

    Because I am a White wolf. I am of Alpha blood. And even if the world seeks to break me, even if my body falters, my wolf–my essence–remains untamed.