Chapter 212: Specimen

"Did Mr. Rainn use force or coercion to keep you at his side?" Judge Egrin pressed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Raymond Leone lean forward.

The city governor fixated on my profile, his eyes gleefully expectant. He truly believed I would break under pressure, testify against my husband, and agree to flee to the North with him in exchange for a deal.

"No. This Alpha has never forced me to remain with him. He has never manipulated my mind nor suppressed my will," I replied, my voice steady, resonant, and entirely unyielding.

"And how can you be certain?" the prosecutor cut in, sneering with condescension as if addressing a child. "Is it not possible that you were simply unaware of his influence while under the overwhelming effect of his pheromones?"

"Mated true pairs cannot manipulate one another once the bond is fully awakened," I replied, shrugging slightly as I leaned back against the bench.

That fundamental biological truth hit the courtroom like a detonating charge. The judge’s eyes narrowed in sudden panic. He shot a venomous glance toward Raymond, who had guaranteed him an effortless conviction.

"Now wait just a minute—Mr. Rainn’s fated mate is dead..." The prosecutor faltered mid-sentence, staring at me as though a phantom had materialized in the center aisle. His jaw slacked. "You... You are Jane Lang! Five years ago, you were convicted for forging a true mate bond mark!"

"Indeed. Except that sham of a tribunal deliberately ignored clear medical evidence. It handed down a corrupt, fabricated verdict—and I suffered solely due to the criminal negligence of this state."

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the chamber. Confusion rippled through the bewildered jurors, but the judge recovered faster than the rest. Banging his gavel frantically onto the bench, he barked at the prosecution to proceed.

"You claim you are fated mates," the prosecutor blustered, shuffling his papers with trembling hands. "However, we have recent state-sponsored research proving that dominant specimens suffer no physiological constraints when forming bonds. In your case, the concept of a ’fated pair’ is trivial—it holds no legal standing against the National Gene Pool Preservation Act!"

Looking at the sniveling coward, I knew he would never grasp the true nature of a fated bond. These people had no authority to sit in judgment over us. A creature that has never breathed underwater can never understand the depths of the ocean. They masked the gross violation of our fundamental rights behind high-minded rhetoric about saving the nation, playing God with lives they were powerless to comprehend.

"Did you just refer to me as a specimen?" I asked, my brow furrowing as I locked a frigid gaze onto him.

"I... uh... I beg your pardon?" The man wilted instantly under the weight of my aura.

"No. I do not pardon you. Tell me—what exactly do your studies claim?"

The main act had begun. We had reached the point of no return. As the prosecutor frantically unfolded his printouts, I glanced back toward the steel cage and caught sight of dark blood trickling down Magnus’s wrists beneath the heavy iron shackles. My Alpha was seething, but he held his tongue, placing his total trust in me—even as he balanced on the razor edge of tearing every living soul in this room to pieces.

"It is stated that in cases involving a dominant individual, a fated mate does not play a crucial role. A breeder is considered public property, obligated to bear offspring for various powerful Alphas in order to replenish the critical global loss of rare genes," the prosecutor stammered, shrinking into himself.

By the end of his sentence, his voice had trailed off to a whisper. The suffocating pressure from the auras of the Allied Pack Alphas was physically unbearable, heavy as lead. Our people were in an absolute fury over what they had just heard.

"Do you have sisters, Mr. Hamilton?" I asked softly, catching him completely off guard with my composed tone.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with—"

"Well, according to this year’s official census, the birth rate has hit a critically low threshold. In the lower district of our city, there are countless men without families or children. Are you personally prepared to place this vital state mission of saving the gene pool onto your own sister’s fragile shoulders too? I happen to know about twenty men from the detention center who will be released shortly and will be in dire need of heirs. Would you surrender your sister to them for the greater good of society?"

The prosecutor’s face flushed red with rage as he gasped for air in pure indignation.

"Do not dare compare my sister to yourself! She is a valuable member of a prominent family, while you—"

"I have heard enough. You need not trouble yourself with continuing."

The sharp scraping of a heavy wooden bench sent a shudder through the courtroom, forcing everyone to turn around. Oliver slowly rose to his full, towering height, standing like an unyielding monolith over the gallery.

Judge Egrin completely ignored the prosecutor’s outburst and cast a panicked look toward Raymond Leone. At that exact second, Raymond was treated to a perfect view of the back rows—directly at Sayan and Greta. Sayan held her hand in such a way that the mate mark was plainly visible, tracing his finger over her skin. Sitting that close, Raymond undoubtedly felt it—felt that his fated omega was currently leaning trustingly against the shoulder of my husband’s closest ally.

What an absolute blessing that this broken woman had turned out to be a late-blooming omega, so eager to believe in Sayan’s life-saving fairy tale.

"State your name and await your turn in accordance with court protocol!" the judge shrieked, slamming his gavel down.

Ignoring the histrionics entirely, Oliver unclipped a polished gold tie bar from inside his breast pocket, slowly fixed it onto his tie, and leveled a dark gaze at the bench. Egrin drained of all color in an instant. It was the insignia of the Voice of the High Tribunal—the ultimate independent authority. Raymond Leone didn’t even notice; the governor was in a state of profound shock, staring transfixed at Greta’s wrist.

"We shall begin with the basics," Oliver commanded, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "You will present those so-called studies to me immediately. Original copies, equipped with international certification seals verified by the Chief Justice of the Continent. I am waiting."

Oliver gestured imperiously to the prosecutor. Cowering, the man handed over the folder with trembling hands. Taking a seat beside me, the Voice skimmed through the pages.

"Admissibility denied. This is cheap counterfeit paper, completely unbacked by any independent governing body. I am seizing these documents for immediate submission to the international tribunal. Every institution and individual named in these pages will be investigated and prosecuted for fraud without delay." Oliver paused, turning his cold gaze back onto the prosecutor.

"Now then, Mr. Prosecutor. Since we have officially established that Jane Pharean is a full citizen with complete legal rights—and not a piece of public property—what remaining charges on your docket should we bother addressing?"

"We... we are obligated to verify the question of the marks and examine official medical documentation," the prosecutor stammered, wiping a sheet of cold sweat from his forehead.

Without a word, I handed over a thick folder containing the original records. A juror wearing a white lab coat, his jaw clenched in fury, took the documents. After meticulously examining the papers, he walked over to Magnus’s steel cage. My Alpha, his darkened eyes fixed unwaveringly on me, silently extended his iron-bound wrists through the heavy bars to display the intricate tattoo inked into his skin.