Chapter 673: You Remember Me? I Remember You.

Serena knew the face. He was the dealer who captured her, still in the business of trafficking women and children, still working with Viremont, still a specialist in horrid things done to women.

She could never forget his face. She had heard women scream in camps from this man and was powerless to do anything at the time. She knew his voice because she had heard it giving instructions to handlers whose instructions involved methods she would carry in her memory until the day she died.

Her hands pressed flat against the iron armrests. The pressing was the only visible response she permitted. Everything else, the cold, the recognition, the inventory of every crime this man had committed against women whose names she knew and women whose names had been taken from them before she could learn them, all of it went behind the composure and stayed there.

"Identified as a known affiliate of the Silkchain Trafficking Network," Captain Ravenhall stated, voice professional. "We captured him last night at the eastern border. He was trafficking three minors under the age of ten and four women. All were drugged and bound in silver. The victims are rogues who were passing through Shadowclaw territory."

Serena dragged her eyes away from the man and looked at the captain. "Have the women and children been looked at by a healer?"

"No, Luna."

"Admit all to the infirmary at once to be looked at by our Master Healer, Elias Quell, on my order. Have him check for secondary doses. Silkchain drugs in layers. One to sedate, one to suppress memory. If there’s a second compound in their blood, they’ll start seizing within twelve hours if it’s not flushed. They are granted protection and treatment as pack members for as long as they choose to stay in Shadowclaw."

Captain Ravenhall held her gaze one second longer than duty required. Whether he was questioning the order itself, because a future Luna, but a non pack member had just granted pack-member status to rogues, or if he was questioning how she had a knowledge base about the Silkchain Trafficking Network, it didn’t matter. The silence between them was not a negotiation.

She held his gaze right back and her face gave nothing.

"Yes, Luna," he finally said.

"Thank you, Captain. I expect to be notified once Elias has examined them."

"Right away."

No one in the throne room argued. The elders were looking at one another. But the optics for them would look bad if they fought Serena on this and everyone knew it.

The man lifted his head.

His eyes found the throne. Found the woman sitting in it. Found her face, her hair, her green eyes, and the finding produced a recognition that crossed his features the way disease crosses a body: visibly, progressively, and with zero interest in concealing its progress.

His mouth split into a grin.

The grin was the worst kind. Wide. Genuine. The grin of a man who had just received a gift he hadn’t expected and whose gift was the presence of a woman he recognized from a different context and whose context was about to make this room very uncomfortable.

"Well, well." His voice was gravel and oil, the vocal equivalent of a surface that looked smooth and felt filthy. "Serena Frostborne, formerly Silverveil. We meet again."

The name dropped into the throne room like a grenade.

Every wolf looked at her for a reaction. She didn’t give them one. Her face gave nothing.

"There are two bounties on you, Silverveil. One king and a High Emperor." The man leaned forward, chains clinking. "You know what I hear? I hear you’re spreading those bony legs for wolf kings now. Whole continent knows it. The slave bitch from Viremont found herself a few cocks with crowns and she’s riding them all the way to the top." He spit on the floor at the base of the throne. "Once a whore, always a whore. You can put a collar on it or a crown on it, the job description stays the same."

Griffin’s hand went to his blade.

Serena raised one finger. The finger said hold.

The man kept talking.

"Does your Alpha King know what you are? Does he know where you come from? What you’ve done? What was done to you? Because I could tell him things about his little Luna that he wouldn’t like."

The throne room was silent.

"Proceed with the Arraignment," Serena ordered, without looking away from the man. Her voice was steady.

A herald stepped forward for this. He carried a parchment stamped with the Shadowclaw seal, and when he spoke, his voice filled the throne room the way charges were meant to fill a room: evenly, without emotion, letting the words do the sentencing before the sentence was passed.

"Let the court record the following. The accused: Ronan Blackwell, no pack affiliation, no territorial citizenship, identified as a known operative of the Silkchain Trafficking Network."

"Amend the identification," Serena cut in. "Blackwell is not an operative of the Silkchain Trafficking Network. He is a primary supplier, controlling acquisition, transit, and delivery. He is designated the Black Crown within the Silkchain hierarchy. The accused’s legal name is Alistair Creed. Ronan Blackwell is a fabrication, adopted after warrants were issued for Creed in eight territories across Skardos. The alias exists for the sole purpose of evading prosecution. The record will reflect all three identifications."

"Yes, Luna," the Herald said right away.

Blackwell’s smirk widened, like he was finding this entertaining.

"Alistair Creed, also known as Ronan Blackwell, also known as the Black Crown," the herald began. "You are brought before the court of Shadowclaw to answer the following charges. Count one: trafficking of persons across territorial borders, including three minors below the age of ten. Count two: abduction by force. Count three: unlawful administration of controlled sedatives. Count four: binding of free persons in silver, classified under Shadowclaw law as aggravated imprisonment. Count five: conspiracy and active affiliation with the Silkchain Trafficking Network, a prohibited organization operating across wolf territories. Count six: possession of forged transit documents bearing falsified pack seals."

The charges landed in the room like a body dropped from a rooftop. No one moved.

"Let the record reflect the charges as read. Alistair Creed, you stand accused before the court of Shadowclaw. How do you answer these charges?" the herald finished.