Chapter 213: No showman

Through the taut string of our bond, I felt everything inside him: the low, simmering jealousy toward Oliver’s proximity to me, the burning rage directed at the prosecutor and judge, and his wild, ravenous hunger. He was so close, yet agonizingly out of reach—beyond touching, beyond holding.

"The documents are certified by the central laboratory. They are authentic," the juror admitted, his voice strained. He turned to face the bench. "Mr. Leone?"

The city governor didn’t even acknowledge his name. His eyes were glassy, locked on Sayan in a blank, unseeing stare. Sayan was playing his role masterfully—possessively stroking Greta’s exposed shoulder, his fingers brushing the line of her throat as he whispered intimately into her ear. Leone’s inner beast was clearly being torn apart from the inside, devoured by a wave of primal jealousy.

"Raymond, do forgive our friends for their breach of decorum," I said, driving the final rusty nail into his composure with an innocent smile. "You shouldn’t stare so intently. They only found each other recently, and they’re simply eager for the trial to conclude so they can finally be alone. Well... you know how it is. Fated love completely consumes you."

Leone’s complexion flushed a violent, mottled purple with pure, animalistic fury.

"Your Honor," Oliver’s steel-cold voice shattered the heavy silence as he rose to his full height. "What is the official procedure for cases classified under ’Attempted Coerced Severance of Fated Bonds by Third Parties’?"

Judge Egrin frantically dabbed his soaked neck with a damp handkerchief.

"A-According to precedent, any attempt to forcefully sever an established true mate bond by any means constitutes a grave violation of international law, punishable by..."

"The prosecution just publicly admitted that despite officially verified records of their fated bond—records logged in the database prior to the arrest when Magnus Rainn filed for a marriage license—there was a state-sponsored effort to forcibly separate a breeder from her Alpha," Oliver pressed. "Furthermore, you planned to transfer a pregnant fated mate to another male. Does that not constitute a direct criminal offense?"

"Now hold on! Ms. Pharean is not pregnant!" the judge shrieked, desperately scrambling to escape the tightening trap. "And for a bond between two dominants to be valid, it cannot be a superficial mark! In such extraordinary cases, permanent gland-sealing is legally required! Otherwise, given Ms. Pharean’s biological hazard to the sanity of other Alphas, your counter-accusations are wildly exaggerated!"

"Ms. Pharean?" Oliver said calmly, glancing over at me to give the silent signal.

Rising from the bench, I reached behind my back, locating the hidden fasteners concealed within the fabric. With one swift movement, I unsnapped the bulky outer layer. The garment was more than just an elegant gown—it was a convertible silhouette. The long, heavy skirt cascaded to the floor with a soft rustle, leaving me standing in a fitted mini-dress. Sayan’s grandmother had brilliantly tailored the cut so that the structured waistline sat high above my hips, accentuating—without compressing—the distinct, rounded curve of my pregnant belly.

Reaching into my sleek black folder, I pulled out the latest ultrasound scans along with Alan’s official medical report, fully stamped and sealed with every date and clinical signature intact.

At that exact second, a deafening metallic snap echoed through the courtroom. The reinforced steel links of Magnus’s handcuffs ruptured under raw brute force. His eyes flared with a hungry, wildly possessive blaze as they devoured the sight of my exposed legs. The mini-dress was short, though technically covering everything required; by any reasonable standard, it was modest—except, judging by the murderous intensity in my mate’s gaze, it belonged strictly in our bedroom.

I watched his tightly drawn lips move, reading the silent command with ease: Put the damn skirt back on. It seemed I’d be drawing the jackpot tonight. Sayan had been entirely right—I could already feel a phantom burn on my rear in anticipation of his punishment.

"The documents are genuine. The pregnancy is verified," the juror physician croaked, his voice strained as he finished reviewing the files I had supplied.

Judge Egrin stared down at his papers with a trapped, frantic expression before issuing a bitter laugh and doubling down.

"Regardless, we have no legal standing to drop the primary charges of mass murder as previously outlined!" the judge blustered. "The biological imperative for Alpha Breeders dictates that even with a true mate bond, the breeder must bite into her Alpha’s scent gland—submitting to his absolute claim before nature itself. According to thorough daily inspections conducted while in solitary confinement, the defendant possesses no such permanent gland mark!"

"Mr. Rainn?" Oliver turned his head toward the steel enclosure, finally yielding the floor to my husband. "Do you bear a permanent mark?"

"Yes."

Raymond Leone snapped. Leaping to his feet, he shoved his heavy leather chair backward, sending it crashing to the floor as a string of filthy curses tore from his throat.

"You have no mark! Our medical team inspected you top to bottom every single day in the solitary block! That is a lie! Look at him—his neck is completely bare!"

In response to the outburst, Magnus reached up with a scarred hand, gripped the collar of his black shirt, and yanked the heavy fabric downward to expose his collarbone. The severed links of his iron shackles hit the concrete floor with a heavy, metallic clang.

An instant wave of shocked murmurs rolled through the gallery. The judge, Raymond’s twisted face, and the entire panel of jurors froze with their mouths agape. My Alpha was displaying the deep, irrevocable indentations of my fangs sunk directly into his subclavian gland. And with his other hand, he calmly extended a middle finger to the entire state apparatus.

"Why... why is it placed there?!" Leone roared, utterly stunned. "That mark is a supreme honor meant to be displayed with pride!"

"I am no showman displaying what my female bestowed upon me for the entertainment of cowards," Magnus bared his teeth, his voice a low, gravelly snarl.

"Which explains why, despite keeping three concubines, you were never granted such a gift yourself," I added casually, making sure my voice carried across the room as I met Leone’s panicked eyes while he shot a desperate glance back toward Greta.

"Ahem... In light of these newly revealed circumstances and undeniable physical evidence, I, as the Voice of the High Tribunal, hereby order all charges against Mr. Rainn dropped immediately," Oliver declared, hammering each word like a nail into the coffin of their local justice system.

"Furthermore, due to proven incompetence, systemic corruption, and evidence tampering by officials of this administration, I am stripping this court of authority and transferring the case to the jurisdiction of the High Tribunal."