Chapter 29 #2
The Chairwoman cleared her throat again, bringing the room back to order.
“Mr. Hardin, you are entitled to claim the spoils of victory—title, territory, and all assets. You may also decline, in which case the Council will appoint a new Alpha for the Midwest Kingdom. Either way, you must decide tonight. Protocol.”
I shrugged, then looked at Savannah. “It’s your choice, too,” I said, voice soft. “If you want out, now’s the time.”
She finally met my eyes. “I’m not leaving you,” she said, and I believed her. “But… my family—my mother and Griffin—they need to know. Can I have a minute?” The last word was a plea, and the Chairwoman waved her off with a flick of her hand.
Savannah took Juliet’s phone and left the room.
Through the glass panel, I watched her shoulders shake as she dialed.
I felt every emotion she was experiencing through our bond.
The most remarkable was relief. There wasn’t really any grief to be found.
Fear was the most troubling. I felt that fear when she told her mother that Callum was missing, then joy when she shared she was safe.
Finally, there was so much hope when she told her mother that nothing would ever be the same.
I double-checked with the Council Chairwoman that Savannah’s mother and brother were under the protection of the Council until Callum was found.
She assured me that their estate was under heavy guard.
I turned my attention to Bronc. He poured two fingers of whiskey into his coffee and drank it in one swallow. “Never saw you as the king type,” he said, grinning like it hurt. “Thought you’d stick to the MC until your liver gave out.”
I shrugged again, then clapped him on the shoulder. “I thought I’d have more time to disappoint you.”
He snorted, but his eyes were red. “You’ll make a fine king. Just don’t forget about us. How you gonna handle living with all these Yankees?”
I bellowed a laugh at that. “Fuck, I don’t know, man. What are they gonna do when I have a big ol’ Texas barbecue out on that pristine back lawn?”
Juliet leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial hush. “When you’re in charge, will you finally outlaw polyester blends? Half the Council dresses like they’re headed to a job interview at the DMV.”
“Council’s got bigger problems,” I said. “First order of business: not getting murdered by the next psycho with a knife and an inferiority complex.”
The Chairwoman rapped her knuckles on the table, impatience fraying her calm. “We need to address the matter of evidence. The video that aired during the challenge—exposing Declan’s treachery—originated from inside the Council’s own surveillance system. We want to know who provided it, and why.”
Every face turned toward the screen on the far wall, frozen on the last frame of the broadcast: Callum passing a vial of blood to the witch. The air in the room thickened. A predator’s pause before the kill.
No one spoke, so I did. “Someone wanted to expose a corrupt king. Any number of people on the Council could have simply wanted the truth out, maybe just a bored tech with a sense of justice. Doesn’t matter.
It’s done. There are lots of families who deal in secrets, and everyone knows it.
” Of course, the only family that truly deals in secrets is the Kozlovs.
They are the only supernatural mafia family represented on the Council.
At the mention of secrets, no one dared to look at Kazimir at the end of the table.
But my eyes landed on Lucia. She was resplendent in a crimson sheath dress, black curls wild around her face, lips painted with the same shade as fresh arterial blood.
She caught my gaze, held it, then winked.
A slow, deliberate movement that caused me to give her a subtle nod of my head.
Savannah returned then, her face streaked but resolute. She slid back into her seat next to me and set her hand over mine. Her grip was cool and unyielding. I was hers, and she was mine, and every person at this table knew it.
The Chairwoman closed her binder, signaling the end of the session. “You have until midnight to decide. If you decline the throne, the Council will appoint. If you accept, your investiture is at dawn. Until then, this castle is yours. Use it wisely.”
The others filed out, murmuring to themselves, the ghosts of old power trailing them like a scent of dead flowers. Bronc and Juliet hung back for a moment, then left together, arms around each other like survivors of a shipwreck. Rafe nodded to me on his way out, a small, private salute.
Lucia lingered at the door, lips parted in a hungry smile. “Congratulations, King,” she said, the word twisting in her mouth like something alive. “May you reign with a heavier hand than the last.”
When the room was finally empty, I turned to Savannah. She was still holding my hand, tighter now. The emerald dress clung to her in all the right ways, but her face held questions and fathomless forevers.
“We did it,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.
She let out a breath, the weight of the world deflating with it. “You did it,” she echoed, then pressed her lips to my knuckles, a queen in a ruined palace.
There would be a hundred battles tomorrow. But tonight, the world belonged to us.