Bound by Fate: The Alpha's Luna

Chapter 28: The Journey to Judgment (Alaric's POV)

Alaric stood by the convoy of black SUVs, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched Isabella being escorted toward the vehicles. Her wrists were bound in shackles, her head held high despite the clear exhaustion on her face. She looked small, fragile, yet fiercely determined as she approached. It made Alaric's chest tighten with a mix of pride and rage.

The Silverclaw warriors marched her forward with cold efficiency, their hands gripping her arms as if she were a threat, and it made his wolf inside him snarl. He clenched his fists at his sides, barely restraining the urge to rip them apart and take her back. But he couldn't—he had to play this smart. Kieran's pack was still on high alert, and any rash action could tip things out of control.

Isabella's eyes locked onto his, a silent plea mixed with the strength he had come to admire. He took a step forward, ready to stand by her side, but Kieran moved in front of him, cutting him off.

"She rides with me," Kieran said, his voice sharp, filled with smug finality.

The heat in Alaric's chest exploded. "You have no right to separate us," he growled, barely keeping the edge out of his voice. "She's my mate."

Kieran's smirk widened. "And the one who released a dangerous prisoner, no less. Until the Council decides her fate, she's under my custody. We wouldn't want any more incidents, would we?"

Alaric's hands itched to grab Kieran by the throat, to force him to back down. He could feel the wolf inside him raging against the chains of control he kept on it, pushing to protect what was his. But Alaric knew that the Council of Elders had already decreed that Isabella be judged. Fighting Kieran now wouldn't save her—it would only seal her fate.

"Don't think for a second that I'm letting this go," Alaric growled, his voice low, so only Kieran could hear. "I'll be at the Council, and I'll ensure they see you for what you are."

Kieran's smile faltered for the briefest of moments, but it was gone just as quickly. "We'll see about that," he muttered before turning his back and guiding Isabella to the middle SUV.

Alaric watched helplessly as the door slammed shut, sealing her inside with the very man who had caused all this. His chest felt tight, constricted with the need to protect her. His mate was in danger, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it until they reached the Council chambers.

His wolf snarled in frustration, pacing within him, but Alaric forced himself to breathe. He had to keep his head clear. There was too much at stake. Isabella was strong, but Kieran was manipulative, and who knew what he would say or do during that ride. Alaric clenched his fists, imagining the worst as the convoy began to move.

He jumped into the lead SUV, his mind filled with a thousand plans on how to ensure Isabella's safety. Fenrir sat beside him, his Beta's sharp eyes catching every nuance of his mood.

"She'll be fine, Alaric," Fenrir said, his voice low but steady. "You know she's strong."

"Strength isn't the problem," Alaric muttered. His hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Kieran is. He's hiding something, Fenrir. I can feel it. He's more desperate than he's letting on."

Fenrir nodded, his face darkening. "He's been acting strange, even for him. I caught wind of whispers in the Silverclaw Pack. Something's not right there—too many of his people seem... broken."

Alaric's eyes narrowed. "Broken? What do you mean?"

"I saw it when we toured the grounds," Fenrir explained. "His pack's numbers are down, Alaric. Way down. The ones who are left—they look hollow. It's like they've lost hope, like they've been left to rot. And Kieran? He's too calm about it. That tells me he's hiding something big."

Alaric clenched his jaw, his mind spinning with possibilities. Kieran's pack was dying, and whatever he had done with the witch, it hadn't saved them. It had only delayed the inevitable. Alaric's heart twisted, knowing that whatever was going on, it would come to a head at the Council. Kieran's lies wouldn't hold up forever. And when they crumbled, Isabella's life could be caught in the fallout.

"That witch," Alaric murmured, his thoughts churning. "She's the key. Kieran's been manipulating everything—pulling strings and controlling this whole situation from the start. Isabella's the only one who knows the truth, but he'll do everything he can to discredit her."

"Then we need to get the Council to listen," Fenrir said. "We need to be ready to show them the truth, to make sure they see through Kieran's lies."

Alaric's mind went into overdrive. He needed to find a way to protect Isabella, to expose Kieran for what he was. But time was running out. He only had one shot at convincing the Council, and Kieran would be waiting for any opportunity to paint Isabella as the villain.

The vehicles sped through the dense forest, the landscape rushing past as Alaric's mind worked on overdrive. His connection to Isabella burned within him—he could feel her fear, her frustration, but also her determination. She was fighting, as she always did, and that gave him hope.

As the convoy finally pulled up to the Council chambers, Alaric jumped out, his heart pounding in his chest. The massive stone structure loomed above them, ancient and imposing. The scent of earth and decay clung to the air, and the weight of countless judgments pressed down on him.

And then he saw her.

Isabella was being dragged from the SUV, her wrists still bound, but her head was held high, defiant. She looked straight at him, and the briefest flicker of relief passed across her face before she was pulled forward by Kieran's guards.

Alaric moved toward her, but they were separated again, herded into the chambers where the Council waited. The massive doors groaned open, and Isabella disappeared inside. Alaric's pulse thundered in his ears as he followed, knowing that what came next would determine both of their futures.

As he stepped into the Council chambers, the ancient walls lined with torches, Alaric could feel the weight of centuries of power in the air. The Elders sat in a semicircle, their faces shrouded in shadows, their expressions unreadable. But Alaric only had eyes for Isabella, standing in the center, her shoulders squared and her chin held high, despite the chains that bound her.

He would do everything in his power to protect her. Even if it meant tearing Kieran's carefully constructed lies apart, piece by piece.

The Council would hear the truth. And Kieran would finally be exposed.