Chapter 6

Sophia POV:

The silence in the ballroom was heavy enough to crush bones. The air smelled of ozone and terrified sweat.

August was trembling on the floor, his forehead pressed against the cold marble. Hailey was sobbing into her hands, her makeup smearing like war paint gone wrong.

Just then, a man in white robes sprinted into the room, flanked by two of Ryder's elite Shadow Guards. It was the Royal Healer. He took one look at Ryder's face and nearly dropped his medical kit.

"My King," the Healer stammered, bowing low. "I came as fast as I could."

"Fix her," Ryder commanded, pointing to my hand.

The Healer rushed to me. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely open the disinfectant.

"Careful," Darren growled from beside me. My three-year-old son was watching the Healer's every move, his little body tense, ready to attack if the man caused me pain.

"It's just a scratch, Ryder," I said softly. I reached out with my good hand and touched Ryder's arm.

The contact sent a spark through me-the electric touch of the Mate Bond. It was grounding.

Ryder flinched, then leaned into my touch. He closed his eyes, inhaling my scent.

"They made you bleed," he murmured, his voice thick with the dual tones of man and wolf. "My wolf wants to tear this building down brick by brick."

"I know," I whispered. "But look at them."

I gestured to the room. Hundreds of powerful wolves were still visibly shaking, terrified of his wrath.

"They know who is King," I said. "Now let them see who is Queen."

Ryder opened his eyes. The gold faded slightly, returning to a human hazel. He took a deep breath, reining in his murderous aura.

"Get up," he barked at the crowd.

The sound of hundreds of people scrambling to their feet filled the room. But August remained on his knees, staring at the floor, sweat dripping from his nose. He knew his reckoning had just begun.

Ryder gestured to the throne that the Aurelis staff had frantically polished. He sat, pulling me onto his lap without hesitation. He kept my bandaged hand resting on his knee, a visual reminder of their crime.

"Now," Ryder said, his voice low and deadly. "We start the trial."

*