h4Chapter 330: Punishments/h4

    strongNatalie~/strong

    I sat rigid on the throne beside Zane, fingers digging into the carved armrests like they were the only thing keeping me fromunching across the hall and tearing Darius apart. My heart pounded against my ribs with ruthless persistence, each beat hammering home that this wasn’t some fever dream—I was here, and this was happening. The crown on my head felt less like gold and more like iron, heavy with expectation, power, and the kind of responsibility that could either forge me into steel or crush me to dust.

    The grand hall of the Lycan pce stretched around us, vast and intimidating. Towering stone walls seemed to echo with centuries of howls and oaths, their cold surfaces softened only by ancient tapestries—faded scenes of battles, victories, and the legends of our kind. Torches burned in tall sconces, their mes dancing on every face present.

    The atmosphere was stifling, saturated with the scents of anger, fear, and anticipation. Hundreds of eyes bored into me and Zane—pack members, elders with their hawk-like gazes, and dignitaries dressed in ceremonial finery. Their whispers had quieted into a tense silence, every breath in the hall drawn tight as a bowstring.

    And as for Darius—the monster who had stalked my nightmares long before this day—dragged before us in shackles that nged with every step. Yet he moved like the chains were jewelry, his body restless, prowling like a caged predator testing invisible bars. That grotesque smirk carved across his face only deepened the madness zing in his eyes. Every venomced word he spat dripped with defiance, daring me to break. Even beaten, even bound, he radiated a lethal presence that crawled under my skin and ignited my hatred like wildfire.

    I could feel the tension of the crowd around me, could almost hear their collective heartbeat thundering in rhythm with my own. The hall was waiting—watching—to see how we would respond, whether we would waver or rise.

    "You think you’ve won?" Darius snarled, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings, making the chandeliers sway slightly from the force of it. The crowd gasped in unison, a ripple of shock waving through them like a cold wind. Women clutched their mates’ arms, men growled low in their throats, and even the elders shifted uneasily in their seats. "Natalie, you pathetic little slut—rising from the gutter to y queen? Ha! You’ll always be the marked whore I made you. And Zane, oh mighty ’king,’ you’re nothing but a fool, wrapping your possessive arms around my leftovers. This kingdom will crumble under your idiocy!"

    Gasps turned to murmurs, then to outright roars of outrage. Someone in the back hurled a curse, and I felt my cheeks burn with a mix of rage and humiliation. But I held my ground, my hand tightening into a fist on the armrest. Jasmine stirred inside me, her voice a fiery whisper in my mind: strongi"Let him dig his grave deeper, Mara. His words are just echoes of his doom." /i/strong

    Zane, seated tall and unimpressed on his throne, his dark hair catching the torchlight, finally broke the silence. His voice was calm,manding, like thunder rolling in from a distance. "Darius," he said, his toneced with icy authority, "are you quite finished with your little tirade?"

    Darius whipped his head toward Zane, his eyes bulging with hate. "Finished? I’ll never be finished with trash like you. Go to hell, you lovesick idiot—whatever!"

    The crowd erupted again, but Zane just smirked, that dangerously sexy curve of his lips that always made my stomach flip. He turned to us—the judges—his piercing gaze sweeping over me, Jacob, King Anderson, and the cluster of elders. Zane’s father, sat with regal poise, his silver-streaked hair and wise eyes reflecting the weight of his years on the throne. Jacob lounged with that effortless grace, his thick hair tousled, brown eyes twinkling with hidden mischief. The elders, ancient and stern, nodded subtly.

    "Judges," Zane announced, his voice projecting across the hall, "have your decisions been made?"

    I nodded firmly, my heart swelling with a fierce determination. Jacob inclined his head with a knowing smile. King Anderson gave a solemn dip of his chin, and the elders murmured their assent, their faces set in grim lines.

    Zane nodded back, satisfied. "Very well. Write down your proposed punishments and pass them to me."

    The scratch of quills on parchment filled the air as we each jotted our thoughts. I poured my emotions into mine—years of pain, the scars on my soul from Darius’s cruelty. Handing it to Zane, our fingers brushed, sending a spark through me. He read them all, his expression unchanging, then added his own notes with deliberate strokes. Ten long minutes ticked by, the hall humming with restless energy, whispers like bees in a hive. Finally, Zane looked up, his presence dominating the room.

    "We begin with Luna Gabrie," he dered, his voice booming. Gabrie, kneeling in chains, lifted her tear-streaked face, her once-elegant features now haggard and broken.

    "Your Majesty please," she whimpered, her voice cracking. "I was forced... I had no choice..."

    Zane’s eyes hardened, but there was a flicker of something almost pitying. "Luna Gabrie, your crimes areplicity. You enabled the abuse by supplying victims to your mate. We acknowledge the coercion, the threats you endured. But you chose your status and your mate over the innocents. You had options—to seek help, to flee, to alert another pack or the throne. Instead, you endured to preserve your position as his mate and Luna. For this, you are partially guilty."

    The crowd leaned forward, breaths held. Gabrie’s sobs grew louder.

    "Therefore," Zane continued, "you are stripped of your Luna status and banished from the Silverfang pack. You will no longer be part of the werewolfmunity. You will serve the families of the victims, dedicating your life to healing the damage you caused. And finally, you will be branded with the wolf mark of shame—a living reminder of your failure to protect the innocent."

    Gabrie copsed forward, her chains nking as she wailed. "No! Please, forgive me! I beg you—I was terrified! Natalie, Zane, elders—have mercy! I’ll do anything!"

    Her pleas tore at the air, raw and desperate, but Zane’s face remained stone. "The sentence stands."

    The crowd murmured approval, nods rippling through them like a wave. "Justice!" someone shouted. "She deserves it!" another echoed. I felt a twisted satisfaction—Gabrie had stood by while I suffered, but now, she’d pay in service, not death.

    Zane turned to me then, his eyes softening just for me. "Natalie, my queen," he said, his voice warm amid the chill, "you will announce the sentences for Alpha Darius and Beta Timothy."

    Darius’s head snapped up, his face contorting in fury. "Her? That worthless bitch? You let her decide my fate? This is a joke!"

    But the guards tightened their grips on his chains, and he could do nothing but seethe. I stood slowly, my white gown flowing like Jasmine’s fur, feeling the power surge through me. No more shy Natalie—the feisty, outspoken me rose, sarcastic and unbending.

    "Alpha Darius," I said, my voice steady andced with venom, drawing out the title like a mockery, "for the crimes of murder, sexual assault, abuse of power, psychological domination of the pack, you are hereby stripped of your Alpha title. And your wolf... will be taken away. Permanently."

    The hall fell silent for a heartbeat, then exploded in gasps. Darius’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth gaping like a fish.

    "And you, Timothy," I continued, turning to the trembling Beta, "as his aplice, you lose your Beta title and your wolf as well."

    Timothy burst into tears, copsing to his knees. "No! Please, Natalie—Your Majesty! Darius made me! He forced me! I’d have died if I refused! It was all him—the harassment, the framing, everything! Mercy!"

    Darius, still frozen in shock, finally found his voice. "What... what do you mean, my wolf taken away permanently? You can’t... that’s not..."

    I smirked, crossing my arms, savoring the fear in his eyes. "It means exactly what it sounds like, Darius. Your wolf—gone. Forever."

    Heughed, but it was hollow, panicked. "No one can take a wolf! It’s impossible! Stop spouting nonsense, you stupid girl!"

    That’s when Jacob rose from his seat on the dais, his smile slow and predatory. The crowd bowed instantly, a wave of reverence sweeping the hall—heads dipping, murmurs of "Wolf Spirit" filling the air.

    Jacob’s presence shifted dramatically. He channeled his ancient power, and I watched in awe as his thick ck hair turned stark white, flowing like moonlight. His warm brown eyes ignited to molten gold, glowing with ethereal light. He fixed Darius with a scary smile, all teeth and menace, his lean, athletic build seeming to grow taller, more imposing.

    "Darius," Jacob drawled, his voice echoing with a dramatic ir that sent chills down even my spine, "do you know who I am?"

    Darius stammered, backing up until his chains jerked him short. "Y-you... you’re... no..."

    Jacobughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated the stones. "I am Mist, the Wolf Spirit. Father of all werewolves. And you, Darius, have misused the gift my mother and I bestowed upon your kind. The essence of the wolf is not for tyranny, for harm. It’s a sacred bond. And now... I take it back."

    Darius screamed, thrashing wildly. "No! Get away! Guards—stop him!"

    But the guards held firm, their faces pale but resolute. Jacob stretched out his hand toward Timothy first, his golden eyes locking on Darius to ensure he watched. A shimmering light pulsed from Jacob’s palm, coiling like mist around Timothy. The Beta howled in agony, his body convulsing as the light pulled something ethereal from him—a shadowy wolf form that dissolved into nothingness.

    Timothy slumped, gasping. "Where... where’s my wolf? Why do I feel so empty? It’s gone... oh gods, it’s gone!"

    Darius’s horror was palpable, his face ashen. "Please, Mist—Wolf Spirit—don’te near me! I beg you!"

    Jacobughed again, his voice scary and echoing, like thunder in a cavern. "Not so tough now, are you, Darius? Where’s that bravado? That venom you disyed seconds ago?"

    Darius dropped to his knees, chains nking pitifully. "Jacob, please! Forgive me! Natalie—princess, no, queen—I’m sorry for everything! The marking, the banishment, the whole Griffin mess—I was wrong! I’ll repent, I swear! Give me a chance!"

    I stepped forward, my voice cutting like dry ice. "Don’t bother, Darius. Your apologies are as worthless as your rule. You broke me once, but look at me now. Justice isn’t yours to beg for."

    Jacob’s hand extended, the mist coiling around Darius. He screamed as his wolf was ripped away, the shadowy form writhing before vanishing. The hall was inplete awe—jaws dropped, eyes wide, every face reflecting newfound reverence. They bowed deeper, whispers of "The gift... it’s a gift..." I could see it etched on their expressions: the understanding that our wolves were privileges, not rights. Misuse them, harm others, and they’d be revoked. It was a lesson etched in Darius’s agony.

    Zane stood then, his hand finding mine, squeezing gently. Through our mind link, his voice caressed my thoughts: I love you so much, Nat. Finally, your justice.

    Tears stung my eyes, joy and relief flooding me. I couldn’t believe this day hade—the monster who stole my parents, marked me, banished me, now powerless.

    But Zane wasn’t done. "In addition," he boomed, "Darius and Timothy, now wolfless and titleless, are banished to the cursednds."

    The crowd gasped in horror, the name evoking visions of barren wastnds teeming with feral rogues and ancient curses.

    Darius and Timothy wailed, begging incoherently. "No! Mercy! The cursednds— we’ll die!"

    Zane’s eyes shed. "And you will be branded with the mark of shame. So no pack, no rogue, no soul will ever take you in. Alone, powerless, hunted—your end will be slow and terrifying."

    I squeezed Zane’s hand in return, the warmth of his skin sparking against mine. A mischievous smile tugged at my lips, the yful glint in my eyes giving me away even before I leaned closer. My flirtatious side bubbled to the surface like champagne fizz, impossible to hold back in his presence. Leaning close, I whispered, "My possessive king... you’ve outdone yourself."

    He smirked, pulling me closer. "For you, my love, anything."

    Finally, Zane waved to the guards. "Take them away and bring in the next set of criminals."

    As Darius, Timothy and Gabrie were dragged off, their cries fading, I leaned into Zane, my heart full. Justice tasted sweet, and with him by my side, the future shone brighter than ever.