Chapter 13
Dominic's plan was elegant in its brutality.
"The old laws cut both ways," he told me the next morning, spreading documents across his desk. "Alaric is using Article 12 — reclamation by blood. But Article 19 states that any Alpha who has *abandoned* or *endangered* a bonded child forfeits all blood claims permanently."
"Abandoned," I repeated.
"He knew his mate — you — was injured. He didn't call a doctor. He didn't follow up. And now, with Dr. Miriam's testimony and the tribunal record, we have irrefutable proof of endangerment."
He looked at me steadily. "If we invoke Article 19 at the next hearing, it doesn't just block his claim. It *erases* it. Forever. He can never come after this child again."
"What's the cost?"
"Public testimony. Again. You'll have to stand before the Council and tell them everything — in full detail. The fall. The bleeding. The hours alone. His absence."
My stomach turned. Not from fear — from exhaustion. I was so tired of reopening this wound.
But I looked down at my belly. Thirty-four weeks. My child was almost here.
"I'll do it."
Dominic nodded. No pity. Just respect.
"You won't be alone. I'll be right beside you."
---
The hearing was held two weeks later.
I was thirty-six weeks pregnant. Enormous. Uncomfortable. And absolutely certain.
Alaric looked worse than I'd ever seen him. Gaunt. Dark circles beneath his eyes. His golden gaze had lost its arrogance — replaced by something hollow.
When I took the stand, he couldn't look at me.
I told them everything. Every detail. The floor. The cold. The blood I cleaned up alone. The hours of silence. The laughter I heard through the door while my baby was dying.
The council chamber was silent as death.
When I finished, the Head Councilor turned to Alaric.
"Alpha Blackwood. Do you contest any of the testimony given?"
Alaric sat motionless for a long time. The silence stretched.
Then, slowly, he stood.
"No," he said. His voice was barely a whisper. "I don't contest it."
He finally looked at me. And what I saw in his face wasn't anger, wasn't strategy, wasn't pride.
It was a man looking at the ruins of his own making.
"I failed her," he said to the Council. But his eyes stayed on me. "In every way a mate can fail. I was cruel, and I was blind, and I have no defense."
He swallowed hard.
"I withdraw my claim."
The chamber erupted.
His lawyer grabbed his arm, hissing objections. The Blackwood contingent surged forward. But Alaric shook them all off.
"I said I withdraw." His voice cracked. "She's right. I don't deserve that child. I don't deserve either of them."
He turned and walked out of the chamber.
The gavel fell. Final. Irrevocable.
*Article 19 invoked. All Blackwood blood claims permanently severed.*
I sat in the silence that followed, my baby kicking gently against my ribs.
*It's over,* I told them. *It's really over.*
Dominic's arm came around my shoulders. Warm. Solid. *Home*.
"You did it," he murmured against my temple.
"We did it."
And for the first time in my life, I felt completely, devastatingly free.
"The old laws cut both ways," he told me the next morning, spreading documents across his desk. "Alaric is using Article 12 — reclamation by blood. But Article 19 states that any Alpha who has *abandoned* or *endangered* a bonded child forfeits all blood claims permanently."
"Abandoned," I repeated.
"He knew his mate — you — was injured. He didn't call a doctor. He didn't follow up. And now, with Dr. Miriam's testimony and the tribunal record, we have irrefutable proof of endangerment."
He looked at me steadily. "If we invoke Article 19 at the next hearing, it doesn't just block his claim. It *erases* it. Forever. He can never come after this child again."
"What's the cost?"
"Public testimony. Again. You'll have to stand before the Council and tell them everything — in full detail. The fall. The bleeding. The hours alone. His absence."
My stomach turned. Not from fear — from exhaustion. I was so tired of reopening this wound.
But I looked down at my belly. Thirty-four weeks. My child was almost here.
"I'll do it."
Dominic nodded. No pity. Just respect.
"You won't be alone. I'll be right beside you."
---
The hearing was held two weeks later.
I was thirty-six weeks pregnant. Enormous. Uncomfortable. And absolutely certain.
Alaric looked worse than I'd ever seen him. Gaunt. Dark circles beneath his eyes. His golden gaze had lost its arrogance — replaced by something hollow.
When I took the stand, he couldn't look at me.
I told them everything. Every detail. The floor. The cold. The blood I cleaned up alone. The hours of silence. The laughter I heard through the door while my baby was dying.
The council chamber was silent as death.
When I finished, the Head Councilor turned to Alaric.
"Alpha Blackwood. Do you contest any of the testimony given?"
Alaric sat motionless for a long time. The silence stretched.
Then, slowly, he stood.
"No," he said. His voice was barely a whisper. "I don't contest it."
He finally looked at me. And what I saw in his face wasn't anger, wasn't strategy, wasn't pride.
It was a man looking at the ruins of his own making.
"I failed her," he said to the Council. But his eyes stayed on me. "In every way a mate can fail. I was cruel, and I was blind, and I have no defense."
He swallowed hard.
"I withdraw my claim."
The chamber erupted.
His lawyer grabbed his arm, hissing objections. The Blackwood contingent surged forward. But Alaric shook them all off.
"I said I withdraw." His voice cracked. "She's right. I don't deserve that child. I don't deserve either of them."
He turned and walked out of the chamber.
The gavel fell. Final. Irrevocable.
*Article 19 invoked. All Blackwood blood claims permanently severed.*
I sat in the silence that followed, my baby kicking gently against my ribs.
*It's over,* I told them. *It's really over.*
Dominic's arm came around my shoulders. Warm. Solid. *Home*.
"You did it," he murmured against my temple.
"We did it."
And for the first time in my life, I felt completely, devastatingly free.