The Dead Luna’s Resurrection-His Living Hell-

"I don't give a damn about the rumors," Julian growled, his voice rasping against the silent room. "The law is clear. Section twelve of the Elder Decree. No Luna can sever the bond or leave the territory without the Alpha’s written consent. Vivienne didn't get it. Therefore, she’s still mine."

Elder Harlen, a man whose skin looked like crumpled paper, shifted in his seat. "Julian, look at the state of us. The bank accounts are frozen. The enforcers are quitting. You’re citing laws from three hundred years ago while the roof is literally leaking."

"The law is the law!" Julian slammed his fist down. The heavy oak table groaned. "She’s a fugitive. She’s a rogue. I want her brought back in chains if that’s what it takes. We hold the Tribunal tonight. We declare her abandonment illegal, and we use that to nullify her claim on the assets."

"And if she doesn't show?" another elder asked, his voice trembling.

"She’ll show," Julian hissed, his eyes flashing a dark, desperate amber. "She’s too proud not to."

He turned away from them, staring at the empty Luna’s throne. He could still see her there, sitting with her hands folded, playing the quiet little wife. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the ghost of her touch from the hotel—the way she’d pulled his hair, the way her skin had felt against his mouth right before she’d crushed his soul.

He was starving for her. It wasn't just the mate bond; it was a sick, twisted addiction. He wanted to break her back into the woman who needed him, even if he had to burn the whole pack to do it.

The sun went down, and the torches in the hall were lit. Julian paced the length of the dais, his wolf pacing in rhythm with him. He’d dressed in his full Alpha regalia—the heavy leather furs and the silver crest of Silver Peak. He needed to feel powerful. He needed to forget the way he’d knelt on that hotel rug.

"The Tribunal is in session," Harlen announced, his voice echoing in the rafters. "Case of the Alpha versus the Absent Luna. Bring forth the—"

The heavy iron-bound doors at the back of the hall didn't just open. They exploded inward.

The sound was like a thunderclap. Julian froze. The elders scrambled to their feet, several of them letting out undignified yelps.

"What the f**k?" someone shouted.

Through the smoke and dust, Vivienne walked in.

She wasn't wearing a suit this time. She was wearing red. A dress so tight and so deep in color it looked like fresh arterial blood. It was backless, showing off the jagged, beautiful scar on her spine. She wasn't alone. Silas Vane walked half a step behind her, his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his scarred lips. He looked like a wolf who had just found a very small, very pathetic rabbit to toy with.

"Am I late?" Vivienne asked. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room like a razor. "I heard there was a comedy show happening. I didn't want to miss the opening act."

"Vivienne," Julian breathed. He stepped off the dais, his heart leaping into his throat. "You came. Guards! Secure the doors! She’s here to surrender."

The guards didn't move. They looked at Vivienne, then at the massive, terrifying Lycan warriors flanking Silas, and stayed exactly where they were.

"Surrender?" Vivienne laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound. "Julian, you really are delusional. I’m not here for a trial. I’m here for an eviction."

"You can't leave, Viv!" Julian stepped closer, his voice dropping into that low, manipulative tone he’d used for years. "The ancient law. You’re my mate. You’re bound to this pack by blood and decree. You don't have the authority to walk away."

"The ancient law?" Vivienne stepped up to the council table, ignoring the elders as if they were furniture. "You mean the one written by your great-grandfather? The one that treats women like livestock?"

She turned to face Julian, her eyes glowing with that new, Sovereign light. "Let’s talk about authority, Julian. Let’s talk about what happens when an Alpha fails his people. When he embezzles their future. When he marks another woman while his mate is carrying his burden."

"I was the one who kept this pack alive!" Julian roared, his ego flaring. "You were just a wolfless girl I took pity on!"

"Is that what you told yourself?" Vivienne leaned back against the table, her legs crossing at the ankles. The slit in her dress slid up, revealing a long, toned thigh. Julian’s eyes dropped to it instinctively. Even in his rage, he wanted to crawl across the floor and bury his face between her legs.

"I was the one who negotiated your trade deals," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I was the one who hacked the Crescent Pack’s servers to give you their border codes. I did all of it while you were balls-deep in an Omega who didn't even know your middle name."

"Vivienne, please—"

"Shut up."

The command hit him like a physical blow to the gut. Julian’s mouth snapped shut. He gasped, his lungs burning.

Silas stepped forward then, his hand sliding around Vivienne’s waist. He pulled her flush against him, his large hand splaying over her hip. "You heard the lady, Strathmore. The adults are talking."

Julian’s vision went red. The sight of another man touching her—touching her like he owned her—made his wolf go insane. "Get your hands off her! Silas, I’ll rip your throat out!"

"Try it," Silas challenged, his eyes turning a lethal, predatory black. "I’ve been looking for an excuse to see if your head actually fits on a spike."

"Stop," Vivienne said, putting a hand on Silas’s chest. The tension in the room snapped instantly. She looked at Julian with a look of pure, unadulterated pity. "You’re so predictable, Julian. You think power is about growling and throwing your weight around. But real power? Real power is about the paperwork."

She reached into the small clutch bag she was carrying and pulled out a single, heavy sheet of vellum. It was black, sealed with a gold wax stamp Julian didn't recognize.

She tossed it onto the table. It slid across the wood and stopped right in front of Elder Harlen.

"What is this?" Harlen asked, his hands shaking as he broke the seal.

"It’s called a Deed of Dissolution," Vivienne said. She looked at Julian, a small, cruel smile playing on her lips. "Issued by the High Council and the Black Rose Syndicate. It doesn't just grant me a divorce, Julian. It declares the Silver Peak Pack legally insolvent."

Julian’s blood went cold. "What?"

"It means," Vivienne said, her voice ringing through the hall, "that as of five minutes ago, this territory no longer belongs to the Strathmore line. The pack is dissolved. The assets are seized. And the people? They’re free to join the Syndicate or become rogues."

"You can't do that!" Julian screamed. He lunged for the paper, but Silas was there, a hand like an iron shackle catching him by the throat.

Silas slammed Julian back against the stone wall of the dais. The impact cracked the masonry. Julian gasped, his feet dangling off the floor as Silas leaned in, his breath smelling of smoke and blood.

"She can do whatever the f**k she wants," Silas growled. "She’s the Sovereign now. You’re just a squatter in a dead house."

Silas let him go, and Julian slumped to the floor, his Alpha furs looking like a costume on a child. He looked up at Vivienne, his heart breaking into a million jagged pieces.

"Viv... where are we supposed to go? This is our home."

"It was a prison, Julian," she said, turning toward the door. "And I just burned it down."

She stopped at the exit, looking back over her shoulder. "Oh, and Julian? The movers will be here at dawn. Make sure you’ve packed your diary. I wouldn't want you to lose your only friend."

She walked out into the night, Silas’s arm around her, leaving Julian alone in the ruins of the empire he’d been too stupid to keep.