Chapter 180: I will pass judgement

The memorial for André Bennet was held the following day at noon. Every household member of the estate, including the guards, maids, house servants, and a few family members, gathered to give the late warrior a befitting funeral.

It took place in an open field a few miles from the mansion. The sky hung low, the clouds painted a bruised grey, and thunder rumbled faintly in the distance as if heralding an incoming storm.

Alyssa stood beside Dorian, dressed in a simple black dress paired with a dark veil. She stood erect, her spine straight and her chin lifted high, though her eyes were red-rimmed, the sign of all the tears she had forced herself to swallow.

Her hand was clasped firmly in Dorian’s, and every few moments, he would give it a soft, reassuring squeeze. He, too, was dressed entirely in black, matching the mourning family.

Beside him stood Sheryl, André’s mate. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, her veil completely obscuring her face, while Pandora stood close, one arm slung gently around her trembling frame.

Jake, Henna, Alec, and Anthony formed a protective wall behind them, with everyone else crowding out in a somber semi-circle. The atmosphere was gloomy, weighed down further by the lingering aftereffects of the poison and the raw grief of the loss.

André’s corpse, purified and swaddled in traditional burial linens, rested atop a towering wooden pyre. His younger brother, Alden, stood beside it with a lit torch, while Nina murmured final prayers under her breath.

When she finished, Nina raised her head and glanced toward Dorian. "It is time, Alpha."

Dorian nodded sharply, stepping forward with Alyssa at his side. As they drew close to the pyre, his grip on her hand tightened until his knuckles turned white, nearly crushing her fingers.

Alyssa felt the emotional turmoil tearing through him. She knew André’s death had gutted him, even as he fought desperately to maintain his mask of stoic control. She squeezed his hand back, gently stroking his knuckles with her thumb until his posture settled.

"Do you want to say something?" she whispered softly.

He shook his head. He had a thousand things he wanted to say, but none of them belonged out loud.

Alyssa nodded, turning her gaze back to the pyre. She placed a hand lightly against the cold wood at the base and murmured softly, "Rest on, André. May the goddess protect your soul and keep you safe."

She paused, a flash of pain crossing her features before she smoothed her expression into resolve. "Thank..." she swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering shut as her voice cracked. "Thank you for being my friend... and for protecting me. I will never forget you."

Dorian pulled her into his side, shielding her as he stepped back to give Sheryl her final moments with her mate. A moment later, Alden stepped forward and cast the torch onto the pyre.

Flames instantly roared to life, devouring the gasoline-soaked timber and the corpse resting within it. As the fire burned, Dorian felt the Lycan bond connecting him to his fallen warrior snap entirely. Another innocent soul lost.

He leaned down, murmured something into Alyssa’s ear, and walked away. Jake, Alec, and Anthony fell in step behind him as the crowd began to disperse, offering their quiet, final goodbyes.

As Alyssa turned to leave with Pandora and Henna, her eyes caught on Sheryl. The woman had completely broken down, collapsing against the earth as Alden tried to console her.

Acting on a sudden impulse, Alyssa walked back over and placed a comforting hand on the grieving widow’s shoulder. Alden backed away, leaving the two of them in a quiet moment of grief.

"Luna," Sheryl sobbed, blindly clutching at Alyssa’s black dress. "I can’t do this... I can’t. I can’t live without him."

​"You have to be strong, Sheryl," Alyssa consoled her, her fingers slowly stroking the woman’s shaking back. "Not just for yourself, but for your little boys. They need their mother now more than ever. André would want you to be strong for them."

Sheryl shook her head desperately. She knew she had two young sons waiting at home, but the agony of her loss felt insurmountable. Her boys didn’t even know their father was gone.

"I don’t know if I can survive this," she whispered.

"Of course you can," Alyssa assured her. "And you are never alone. You have a home in my household, always. As long as I’m alive, you and your children will be protected and provided for. I swear it. That is my promise to you, and to André."

She gently lifted the woman’s tear-stained face, wiping the moisture from her cheeks. "Please, be strong, Sheryl. You will get through this. I know you will."

It took minutes of quiet, grounding reassurance, but Sheryl finally pulled herself together enough to stand. She offered a tearful word of gratitude to Alyssa before Alden guided her toward home.

Watching the broken family retreat, Alyssa turned her focus outward and signaled to the new guard who had been assigned to take André’s place.

"Zed?"

He hurried over, dropping his head in a respectful bow. "At your service, Luna."

"See to it that Sheryl and her boys never lack for a single thing," Alyssa ordered, her tone carrying the authority of a queen. "Give them whatever they require, without hesitation. If it is beyond what you can do, don’t hesitate to come to me."

Zed bowed deeply, one hand fisted over his chest. "As you wish, Luna."

Alyssa turned on her heel and walked toward the waiting car where Pandora and Henna were waiting. As she approached, Pandora pushed off the door frame.

"Everything alright?" she asked gently.

Alyssa nodded and slipped into the back seat. Pandora and Henna slowly slid in beside her.

As Zed pulled away from the field and drove back to the mansion, Pandora stared worriedly at Alyssa.

"Are you sure you’re okay, Alyssa? You’ve been awfully quiet. It’s okay to cry, you know. To grieve. André’s death tore us all apart, but you cannot keep this locked inside you. It will only hurt you."

"I’m fine, Pandora," Alyssa replied quietly, her voice entirely flat. "I am grieving the only way I know how. Right now, my focus is finding out who brought that potion into the house. You mentioned you suspected Elvira."

"Well, yes," Pandora admitted. "Though she ingested the potion herself. She wouldn’t have drugged the food if she intended to eat it too."

"Then we are about to find out who did," Alyssa vowed, her blue eyes flashing with cold steel. "And when we do, I will be the one to pass judgment."

Ten minutes later, the car rolled to a halt outside the mansion. Dorian was already waiting at the front door, his hand extended before she even stepped out.

She hurried up the steps, placing her palm in his as she pushed the black veil back from her face.

"Is something wrong?" she asked as he pulled her tightly against his side.

He shook his head, his handsome face carved into a mask of ice. "I’m finding out who did this now. Everyone else has gathered inside the Conclave. I didn’t want to begin the interrogation without you."

Slipping one arm firmly around her waist, he led her toward the Conclave, where Jake, Alec, and Anthony stood waiting like carved stone statues.

Inside, standing stiffly in the far corner, were Elvira and Samantha; the two primary suspects Dorian had dragged into the light. On the opposite side, Martha, Cara, and two other kitchen cooks stood with their heads bowed in terror.

Alyssa stepped into the room beside Dorian, Pandora and Henna falling in close behind. Jake shut the door, and complete silence dropped over the room.

Dorian lowered Alyssa into one of the couches, then stood rigidly beside her, his presence dominating the space. He let the thick silence stretch out until every person in the room was trembling under the weight of it.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, lethal timbre.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can handle it the hard way. But no one walks out of this room until I have the name of the traitor who poisoned my household."

His cold, golden-flecked glare snapped across the room, locking onto the head cook. "Martha. Step forward."

Martha flinched violently, taking several tentative, trembling steps out of the group. She stopped, her eyes glued to the floor, her hands wringing her apron to shreds.

​"You run the kitchens," Dorian continued, his voice as cold as ice. "Which makes you the first primary suspect. Explain to me what happened yesterday."

Before Martha could open her mouth to speak or defend herself, Elvira suddenly stepped forward, her finger shooting out to point directly at Samantha.

"Don’t waste your time interrogating the cook, Dorian," she said, her voice cutting sharply through the tension with confidence. "Samantha did it. Samantha drugged the food."