Deacon appeared back at her side, leaning on the arm of her chair. “Ready.”

Never in a million years. However, she gave him a brief nod. As the doors to the vast room swung shut, he strode forward to address the crowd.

Fortified, she stared at the hidden audience and the brightly lit alpha section—her peers. Given all she’d survived so far, she’d like to believe she could survive anything.

Sheridan rose without looking at her, strode down to the presentation arena, and faced the other alphas. “I was called by Gauthier Karndottir’s team after his murder to ensure his killer received justice. My staff handled the scene, and I will present the evidence.” He pivoted toward Deacon. “Your medical examiner is reviewing our findings and was allowed access to the body as well, yes?”

What? Why had Deacon not mentioned this? Her heart skipped a beat. Something much worse was coming.

Deacon nodded, confirming her fears. No wonder Sheridan had given her the cold shoulder when they’d first met. She’d seen pictures of the scene in the apartment building that Callum had procured for Deacon. As much as she hated her father, the sight of him torn apart by gunshots, knife wounds, and claws had sickened her. But what could be worse?

She knew she was capable of violence, of death and murder definitely. She’d have killed the men who took Nathan. But to further her own climb up the ladder for power? Never.

There was a small disruption in the visitor section as the door opened and closed and people shuffled in, but no one paid attention. Everyone’s attention remained riveted to the alpha who ruled the eastern half of North America and the papers in his hands detailing the evidence. Evidence his rigid posture indicated was the basis for his doubts about her innocence.

He proceeded, describing the specifics of her father’s blood and how other blood types were compared On the heels of that came a lengthy accounting of blood spatter patterns, rigor mortis, and bruising on the body. The scientific and medical data came next in a stream, striking her as ironic. Her father didn’t tolerate progress or technology, certainly not drugs, given his refusals to allow doctors for his people. Even for his cherished team.

“You conjecture that the evidence on the body and around the apartment indicates Gauthier Karndottir was transported postmortem from another location?” Deacon asked, though his tone didn’t indicate he challenged the statement.

How odd. Rayven frowned, wondering where this was going and how they’d link her to the crime.

“Do you know where he was murdered?” Deacon’s question followed on her thoughts.

“Someone had attempted to clean the body. But my specialists are experts.”

Rayven felt a rush of blood from her head, dizziness creeping in at the implication.

“They found minute traces of concrete, aluminum shavings, and motor oil. My men located matching specimens in a warehouse fifty miles from the apartment building.” Sheridan glanced toward her. “Blood spatter there matches the alpha’s wounds and is old enough that we feel confident it was the site of the crime, along with semen samples that match the victim. We also found other blood in the warehouse as well. A familial match to Gauthier’s.”

No. Tight knots in her stomach squeezed her last meal, threatening to send it back the way it came. The horrible suspicion ran through her mind as Deacon kept his back to her.

“What day do you calculate he died?”

“Four days earlier than the evidence in the apartment implies.”

Deacon tilted his head. “The full moon.”

Sheridan frowned. “I don’t see how that has any bearing. Besides the physical evidence, we’ve found emails luring Gauthier to the warehouse.”

“With Rayven’s name?” Deacon walked back and leaned against the chair beside her. “How convenient.”

“The email ID was a cover, but we traced it back to a sports bar that Ms. Karndottir is known to frequent.”

Aw, hell. They knew about Elijah, and likely Aubrey and Quinn as well. All of her team had targets on their backs, and she couldn’t free herself from this mess, much less help them.

“The emails targeted Gauthier’s soft spot. One everyone knows too well.” Sheridan addressed the alphas but turned back to her. “They promised him a way to use his semen and willing surrogates to provide him with sons.”

And double hell. Someone had convinced him they could give him what he always wanted and then killed him? She wanted to vomit.

“Which explains the semen contribution,” Deacon countered. “Does Gauthier own the warehouse? Or Rayven?”

“It’s human owned by a group company in Honduras. From what we’ve been able to determine, the group is involved in human trafficking of women and children, but is not related to any of our clans—directly.”

“Cartel affiliations are hardly Rayven Karndottir’s MO. And there are plenty in her clan who have signed affidavits to that effect.” Deacon slammed a pile of documents three inches thick onto the floor.

“A clever ploy for an up-and-coming alpha,” Sheridan continued unaffected. “Friends and colleagues don’t explain away her blood at the scene.”

“Except you haven’t tested to see if it is actually Rayven’s blood.”

“A technicality we can easily fix, though there are no other explanations.”

The evidence was incriminating enough to make every alpha in the room convinced of her guilt. And even if she testified on her behalf, she couldn’t add anything to help her defense. The days before Sam hauled her to the stronghold and she’d been taken by Breslin were foggy in her memory and mostly blank. But the evidence confirmed it was the same timeframe during which her father’s murder had taken place and that where she’d been kept was the same hellhole. And as much as she hated the bastard, the thought sickened her. But unfortunately, one thing remained unchanged. Nothing short of a miracle could save her now.

“Is that all?” Deacon asked.

“No. We recovered clothing at the warehouse—your clothing, Ms. Karndottir. Covered with your father’s blood.” Sheridan moved before her. “I don’t suppose you can explain that to us? Or should I explain to all assembled here how you openly blamed your father for your mother’s death at the hands of his enforcers.”

She stared at him in silence, shaking her head slowly. It wasn’t as if he really wanted an answer. Yes, she hated her father. Yes, she held him entirely responsible for her mother’s death. But he also wasn’t worth her throwing away her life. Yet, with the damning evidence, nothing she could say would change the facts. And Deacon had told her to remain silent and leave the counterarguments to him.

“There was also a witness at the apartments. A man who saw a woman leaving—”

“He saw her face and can identify her?” Deacon interjected quickly.

Why would they care about a woman leaving the building if she’d never been there?

“She wore a heavy coat and a baseball cap.” Alpha Sheridan slid her a glance before his eyes narrowed. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was reassessing that bit of evidence. “He confirmed she had ebony hair.”

She considered a response, any response, as a brief stir and chatter near the doors distracted her. Nothing that would catch anyone’s notice, but she was trying desperately to piece together the puzzle and didn’t want to look into the eyes of any of the alphas.

Callum stood there in the aisle, smiling. Grizz joined him and, oddly enough, stared her straight in the eye and nodded almost imperceptibly in what she could only construe as encouragement.

However, their support, while appreciated, wouldn’t save her. For the first time today, she was glad Breslin and Lena weren’t here to witness her destruction. This was her battle. One she’d lost before she’d ever met Breslin or found friendship in Deacon’s clan.

Prickles inched over her skin, and she glanced at Deacon. His gaze remained fixed on the doors as well. Something was coming.

But as Sheridan turned back to the alphas, she knew whatever Deacon planned wouldn’t come in time.

“I have more, but what we’ve uncovered proves to my satisfaction that Rayven Karndottir had access, motivation, and years to plan an elaborate way to get rid of her father.”

Refusing to give him the satisfaction of her fear, her desolation, she raised her chin toward Whit Sheridan and spoke out. “I didn’t kill my father.”

But her solitary battle was over. The faces of almost every person she could see were tight and cold—a guilty verdict for sure.

“Sweetheart, it hasn’t been just your battle since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

Breslin. She scanned back to Callum and found Breslin framed by the open doors of the tribunal hall. He had a blanket over his shoulder from which curly blonde hair escaped, and one hand cupped on Nathan’s shoulder at his side. Lena, Aubrey, Quinn, and Elijah stood beside him.

Her team.

Lena strode down the stairs, ignoring the alphas who were now standing with harsh glares. “We have a witness who can explain what really happened the night Gauthier Karndottir was murdered.”

* * *

Breslin noted the position of everyone in the room as he guided Nathan down the trail to the main trial floor. Mostly he registered how Rayven’s heart raced and her body trembled, but from outward appearances she looked steady, calm. Inside, he could feel fear and relief battling, her emotions wound tight. Yet, even distracted by the sight of her after too long apart, he instantly noticed Alpha Jalair stalking from his position in the back of the alpha section closer to the trial floor.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?”

Remaining at Nathan’s side, Breslin watched as Lena made her way down the stairs to the trial floor beside Deacon and spoke quietly to him. She took up a place behind him at Rayven’s side.

“I’m prepared to present our evidence and”—Deacon paused as he glanced around at the other alphas, as if gauging their reactions—“a new witness who can exonerate Rayven Karndottir of murder.”

Breslin’s attention shot to the audience section as Jacob sprang up from a seat dead center. How had that weasel been allowed in?

“Any witnesses from my clan should be cleared through me,” he shouted as the lighting in the audience section brightened.

Deacon spun in a quick twist. “If you will recall, I was requested by your clan to host this tribunal and present my case. Just as Alpha Sheridan has done, mine will include all the facts, not just those that suit you.” He strode to the railing, grasped it in his hands, and leaned toward the audience. Those closest wisely leaned back. “I’ll also remind you that you’re here on my sacred lands, by my grace. Either sit and compose yourself or leave.”

Face reddening, Jacob made the mistake of continuing. If the circumstances weren’t so serious, Breslin would have laughed. “We’ve provided all the proof necessary to convict Rayven Karndottir of murder, Alpha Sheridan. Besides, children aren’t viable witnesses.”

Two of the tribunal members shifted into their beasts in response to Jacob’s challenge, and Vendrick’s roar echoed through the room.

A popcorn-sounding crunch followed the deadening silence as claws crushed the wooden divider under Deacon’s hands.

Vendrick vaulted into the center of the audience and bent with a snarl toward Jacob’s face.

“You do not have the authority to speak for your clan.” Vendrick’s eyes took on an eerie shade of blue that Breslin had only seen once and hoped never to see again. Blue meant death. And if anyone deserved it, he was fine with Jacob being on the receiving end.

“You will submit now, or I will force your obedience for challenging an alpha of my board.”

Jacob’s mouth opened and closed like a fish’s, then snapped shut as he had the good sense to drop to his knees, but his eyes still gleamed and the twist of his mouth signaled petulance.

Breslin warily made his way down to the staging area. Unfortunately, the blanket covering Hazel became hooked on the railing and fell away.

Alphas and audience members gasped as one. He tucked the tiny girl close and proceeded to Deacon. Quinn, Aubrey, and Elijah joined him with the other children. Callum approached as well and stood to Nathan’s other side.

Despite the influx of support, Rayven’s gaze flitted between Nathan and the furred hindquarters covering the space where Hazel’s toddler legs should be. Horror mixed with concern flooded the intangible stream that connected Breslin to his mate. Somehow he needed to reassure her. While he hadn’t completed their mating claim, he didn’t doubt the origin of the emotions and the incredible power surge he’d received during his mission. He and Rayven were linked, and he would use every advantage they had to help her through this.

Nathan is healthy and whole. And Hazel will get the chance she needs to recover. Focus on the trial for now, because we all need you.

Rayven looked at him, her eyes widening. Good, evidently in close proximity, he could at least speak privately to her. He offered a quick smile, one he doubted anyone would catch, but she knew him now. He didn’t need the link to feel her reassurance.

Hazel whimpered as she looked over his shoulder at all the people. Breslin turned sideways, hiding her from the view of the audience. Only Rayven and Deacon remained in her sight. His alpha bent toward him. “See that the children are settled in the adjoining visitor room. You take post at their door.”

“I need to stay with Nathan for a few minutes,” Breslin whispered in Hazel’s ear as he jiggled her slightly. “You’ll be safe with Aubrey and the others, okay?”

At her slight nod, he handed her into Aubrey’s arms, gesturing toward a door at the far side of the tribunal room. “It’s stocked with drinks and food if the kids are hungry.”

Hazel ceased her crying and nuzzled against Aubrey.

Deacon gestured for Nathan to take one of the chairs on the main floor. He glanced with intent toward the door now closing behind Rayven’s team and the children.

Breslin planted himself there, his sole focus on Rayven and Nathan as Whit joined Deacon before the teenager.

Waving a hand toward the audience section, Deacon indicated Jacob to Nathan. “I want you to tell me if you’ve ever seen that man before.”

“They’re fucking pack members, of course they’ve seen—” Jacob’s tirade ended in a gurgle.

“Once more and I will deal with you outside. Permanently,” Vendrick said as he cocked his head, his hand around Jacob’s throat.

Lena sighed as Grizz took a position behind Jacob and clamped a thick palm around the back of his neck. “I’ve got him.”

“Let’s try this again,” Deacon said. “Just tell the alphas where you last saw that man.”

Nathan leaned forward. “In the cave near the alpha stronghold.”

“Can you explain in more detail?”

“It was after I was first kidnapped. I was taken there and held in a cage. Jacob was there, laughing with a woman. And they’d—” Nathan swallowed hard and clutched the arms of the chair.

“Take your time.”

Breslin had to hand it to the boy. Recounting his story in front of the entire board of alphas and under the obvious disdain of several clan members wasn’t easy for a full-grown adult, much less a fledgling shifter without any alpha to protect him. However, he’d promised the boy his protection and his oath should mean something. For now, he waited, knowing Deacon would keep Nathan safe.

The young man pulled his shoulders back. “He came to count the number of children in the cages. He and the woman had some agreement about a specific number she needed. He gave her the names of families with several kids.”

“Do you know why this woman wanted the children?” Sheridan asked. Breslin was surprised at the direction of questioning, but he hoped it boded well for Rayven.

“She considered them her best option for testing her drugs.” He looked aside for a minute, his jaw clenched tight. “The drugs forced some of the kids to shift. Most of them were messed up. Once we were on the drugs, she could control us. Make us shift. Make us move or stop like puppets.”

Jacob snarled. “This is bullshit. The kid’s making this up.”

“I didn’t make this up.” The boy responded more quietly now, but his jaw tensed as he whipped his shirt over his head. Claw marks and wide scars crisscrossed his body. Just like the marks Breslin had first seen on Rayven. He fought to keep his claws from bursting through his fingertips. “When the kids cried to go home, she’d let one of her men beat them until they shut up.”

Hand suddenly to his throat, Nathan stopped, blinking toward Breslin, his eyes wide with panic. “Can’t—”

Whatever was trying to silence Nathan stopped as Deacon placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, physically shielding him with alpha power and blocking his view of the audience. Breslin glanced around, searching for the culprit but everyone’s expressions were intense and focused on the drama, making it impossible to ferret out the source.

“You’re safe here, son,” Deacon said. “Continue.”

The boy’s hands trembled badly, but he crossed his arms and dug his fists beneath his armpits, determined to finish. “Jacob watched, and he bragged about his reward.” Nathan’s lips pursed. “How Gauthier’s bitch of a daughter would be the first of his breeders. If she didn’t give him a son, he’d follow her father’s lead and toss the brats off the top of Rocky Gorge.”

Jalair stood again and shook his hand toward the boy. “I don’t see how any of this is relevant. We’re here to judge Rayven Karndottir, not her father’s enforcers.”

Sheridan shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, and turned back to Nathan. “Please tell us what you know about Gauthier’s murder.”

“That was the night Rayven tried to rescue me. But part of Jacob’s team showed up and recaptured me.” He glanced at Rayven. “And her.”

“It’s not your fault, Nathan,” she said. “None of this is your fault.”

“She should not be allowed to speak to the witness,” Barnabas said. At Vendrick’s growl, he shrugged and shook his head, then muttered, “Well, she shouldn’t.”

“Did you actually see your alpha?” Sheridan asked.

The young man scowled. “My wolf was kept in a cage, but I saw him.” He nodded toward Rayven. “She was in the cage next to me. They had an IV in her to keep her unconscious. Karndottir arrived not long after to meet with the woman. She’d promised the alpha she could give him all the sons he wanted.” He rubbed his hands over his knees and then clenched his fists. “She and the doctors told him they’d start all these boy babies in, like, test tubes, and he’d have a whole litter. He bought it all. Was so excited he turned his back on them to look at the details on the computer. She whipped out a gun and shot him a bunch of times. Stabbed him too. Over and—”

He paused and rubbed at his face, which was turning an unnatural shade of pale green.

Deacon rubbed his jaw and stared around the room, then he looked back at Nathan. “How long were you kept in cages the second time?”

“Four or five days.”

“Then how do you know that Rayven didn’t murder her father?”

“Because he was killed the first night we arrived. The night of my first shift.” Realizing everyone was still waiting, Nathan continued. “It was the full moon that night. Rayven was unconscious for days afterward. And I saw the other woman kill the alpha.”

“Why would she have committed a crime in front of a witness?” Whit continued.

Nathan gave a tight smile and sat up straight. “She called us lab rats. We were disposable. She didn’t pay us much attention. She was so proud to kill her own father and blame her sister, she didn’t hold anything back.”

The uproar in the room made discussion impossible. However, Breslin saw shock and horror flicker across Rayven’s features, her jaw dropping on a gasp. It only lasted for a second before bleak understanding and then, finally, sadness transformed her features. The last, he didn’t want for her. Whatever the reason a sibling of hers had chosen to murder her father, she’d used Rayven as a scapegoat and planned her downfall and death in order to escape scot-free.

No matter what her excuse, he didn’t harbor compassion for such a person.

“This is all an intriguing tale, but I require more than just belief in this boy’s story.” Alpha Estevan looked around at his peers and shrugged.

Alpha Octavia piped up as well. “He’s young and impressionable. The pretty young thing on trial could have a hold on him.”

“I agree,” Jalair added. “I demand a mind scan of the boy.”

“That’s not safe,” Barnabas countered, his brows lowered like big bushy thunderclouds, and his arms were crossed in a mirror of Nathan’s.

“A needless waste of life,” Octavia agreed.

As quickly as the uproar had started with Nathan’s testimony, silence fell over the entire room. Only alphas could perform mind scans but the chances of the youngster, even a newly shifted one, emerging with his brain still intact were slim.

“This is an alpha’s death we are talking about,” Jalair continued, his eyes flat. “Not an accident or an honorable challenge, but an act of cold-blooded, calculated murder.”

Before he could speak further, Alpha Ping rose from her seat and gracefully made her way to the floor. She turned and addressed her peer group. “I can safely question the boy and verify his answers without endangering him. I believe the board would agree that meets all our criteria?”

She’d aimed her question at Vendrick who gave a curt nod. And while Breslin could clearly see Jalair’s annoyance, no one argued the decision.

Ping approached Nathan and held out her hand palm up. “This will not hurt you. Your nervousness will not distort your truths. Relax and answer when you are ready.”

Surprisingly, Nathan looked to Breslin. He should’ve predicted as much given what they’d endured together escaping from the underground prison. While he couldn’t mind-speak with Nathan, Breslin could at least reassure him. Of all the alphas on the board, Ping was one of the oldest and most respected, and Deacon held her in high regard. Given her overture here, the feelings were mutual. He gave the young man a slow nod and gestured for him to proceed.

Nathan carefully placed his hand on top of hers as if taking an oath.

“Did you think well of your alpha?”

Breslin froze, wondering if he’d given bad advice as Nathan’s eyes widened. Just tell the truth, boy. One way or another, we’ll follow this through to the end together.

“No. He didn’t care if any of us lived or died.”

Ping nodded, her expression serene. “Very good. Did you witness his murder?”

“Yes.”

Ping nodded again. “Would you give a description of the woman who you saw murder your alpha?”

Nathan pursed his lips. “She was skinny with black hair.” He frowned. “The first several times I saw her, her hair was really long and straight. But the night she killed the alpha, it was chopped short, like—” he motioned to his shoulders.

“Similar to Rayven’s hair length?”

Once again, Nathan looked pained. “Yes. But the other woman had straight hair.”

With a bow of her head, Ping smiled. “You’ve done well. Just one more question. Do you see the woman anywhere in this room?”

When he would have yanked his hand away in surprise, Ping held on. Nathan drew in a breath and scanned the room, narrowing his eyes on the still slightly darkened audience section.

“If she is here, Nathan,” her voice lifted until it carried throughout the room, “she cannot reach you or control you while we maintain a touch.”

He shook visibly but nodded. “If she is, I can’t find her.”

That the murderer might be in the room and have come to watch Rayven’s outcome wasn’t something Breslin had considered. He should have. He scanned the audience as well, but until the issue of Rayven’s innocence was decided, he didn’t want anything to stop the final alpha vote. By his best guess, even Sheridan had relaxed his whole posture, looking at Rayven without the hostility Breslin had noticed when he’d arrived. Hopefully, he was prepared to concede the wrong woman was on trial.

During the flight back from the rescue, Lena received updates through her mental mate link with Deacon. Bit by painful bit, all of Rayven’s team had been privy to the reactions of the alphas.

Breslin scanned the alphas himself, taking a likely tally of the votes. With Deacon, Sheridan, Alarico, Ping, Vendrick—which counted as two votes—and Alpha Octavia, they had seven. Barnabas could be a tough sell. Given his niece and her boyfriend had killed her own father to grab control, he was biased. But even he appeared to be openly searching for a killer among the audience members. Deacon considered Barnabas mostly bluster, just waiting to be convinced. Eight out of fourteen. That was all Rayven needed. There could be more votes, but they’d be icing.

“Did you ever see anyone else in this room during your time in captivity?”

Yeah, and there was the other concern Breslin had. Because, lost sister or not, this plot of stealing children had spilled over into Deacon’s area. Potentially Alarico’s and Sheridan’s as well. It would take more than an illegitimate child with no alpha power to construct such an elaborate scheme and manipulate all the players, which meant she had partners, or an alpha partner.

Ping had moved as she posed her question, shielding Nathan from the alphas’ direct view. But Breslin could see the young man’s hand trembling where it rested in Ping’s and his eyes darting toward the top of the room. Unfortunately, that didn’t narrow down the suspect pool.

“No.”

The answer came almost too quickly, and Breslin was certain it was a lie. But turning back toward the remaining alphas while still holding on to Nathan, Ping bowed. “The boy has told the truth. Should he return to the room with the others?”

Deacon nodded, and Breslin moved aside but gave Nathan a brief nod before he slipped in with Hazel and the others.

Yes. Truths had been revealed, and one select truth had come to light. With Rayven holding at least some alpha power, this sister must have help. In order to shield herself from not only Gauthier but the other alphas, she would have needed power she didn’t have. Which meant another alpha was involved.