Chapter2

From the moment he entered, Lambert didn't look at me. As the recognized next Alpha of The Blackwood Pack, he humbly removed his hat in return to the salutes from the others, even apologizing for my earlier rudeness. I couldn't help but frown. His humble stance made the judges and guards exchange complex, uneasy looks. Many turned their gazes to me, filled with confusion—as if wondering why a cold-blooded murderer like me deserved such consideration from Lambert. I sneered. "Lambert." He finally looked at me, and I met his gaze squarely, not flinching. My tone was laced with undisguised sarcasm. "Coming to a place like this for a fiancée like me? Are you trying to highlight your kindness and win people over by using me?" I ruthlessly tore apart his facade of propriety, not caring in the slightest about his feelings. Sure enough, the judges and guards, whose tempers had been slightly soothed by Lambert, were instantly re-ignited with fury. Unfortunately, their repertoire of curses was limited, and I was growing impatient listening to the same old insults. Lambert wasn't provoked by my words. He just watched me calmly. If one looked closely, perhaps a trace of pain and heartache could be glimpsed in the depths of his eyes. "I am here today on the Alpha's orders," he began, his voice steady and leaving no room for doubt. "From this moment, I am taking full control of the case regarding Lyla's killing of her kin." I grew increasingly irritated, while the others in the room wore varied, solemn expressions. The head judge said displeased, "Mr. Lambert, Lyla's crimes were witnessed by us all, and she has offered no defense. The atrocities she committed are so heinous that even the pack's most severe punishment would be insufficient." The implication was clear: if Lambert tried to shield me, he would be openly defying pack law and public sentiment. No matter how much the Alpha favored him, the pack would never allow their most promising heir to remain associated with a cold-blooded killer like me. Just as everyone—including myself—expected Lambert to say something to distance himself and declare his commitment to justice, we heard him say softly but firmly: "I believe she has her reasons." I unconsciously clenched my hands, looking at him with a mocking smile. "What act of the great benefactor are you playing now?" "Lyla…" "However," I cut him off, my tone flippant, "seeing as we were once engaged, I might be willing to play along. But I have one condition." "Not 'once'," he corrected in a low voice. "What?" "Our engagement… hasn't been annulled yet." I pressed my lips together. I'd never seen the always gentlemanly and easy-going Lambert be so stubborn. "So, will you agree to my condition or not?" I impatiently averted my eyes, refusing to look at him anymore. "Name it." "It's too stuffy in here. My mind isn't clear. Let me out for some fresh air, and maybe… I'll remember why I killed them." "Mr. Lambert! Absolutely not!" The protest was almost unanimous, as if my stepping outside would lead to me slaughtering the entire pack. Yet Lambert just gazed at me, silent for a long while, before finally nodding. "Alright," he said.