Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
They dragged him up to the roof, beat him up, and then... Nyx.
“Whoa, Nyx, easy, man,” someone off-camera slurred. “Pull him back over.”
“Can’t pull him back over. Not before we settle this thing. Can this dick-sucking fag fly?”
“No!” Patrick scratched and scrabbled at Nyx’s arm and chest trying to heave himself back over the ledge. “This isn’t a fucking joke! Pull me ba—!”
Nyx punched him in the face, spurting blood from his twice-broken nose. Roaring, Patrick lashed out, claws ripping from his fingertips, and slashed Nyx down the arm—raking open four wicked gashed.
Nyx dropped him.
“Ahhhhhh!”
“Oh shit!”
“What the fuck, man! What did you do!”
The video spun wildly, flashing the night sky, then thudded on the ground—going black.
Such deep, profound, living silence filled the room. Even beneath their chains and gags, my fates looked at Nyx in disbelief.
“As you all know.” Nyx flinched at my voice. “Patrick survived, but not unscathed. His right leg was so mangled from the fall, not even his wolf healing could save it. Doctors had to cut it off.
“And with that, let the trial begin.”
The community, another name for the peers who asked the questions and picked apart his story, pounced on him.
“What the fuck, Nyx! How could you do that?”
“I’m sorry,” Nyx rasped, voice ragged. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to drop him!”
“You never meant to drop him?” Tracy shouted. “You were dangling him off a roof saying you wanted to see him fly! What exactly were your good intentions, you homophobic shit!”
“I’m not a homophobe! I mean, I know how that looks, but I was messed up back then. I hadn’t accepted myself yet, and Sol was there. He was filming! If I went easy on Patrick, Sol would’ve ratted on me to my dad. My dad is the homophobic shit! I was afraid that—”
“I, I, I, I, I,” Tracy taunted. “Of course this is all about you and your feelings, alpha. What about Patrick!”
“Are you even sorry?” Nicole, another omega, accused.
“Of course I’m sorry! I’ve never been sorrier about anything in my life.”
“Then what did you do to make it up to him?” Devin flung. “How did you apologize? How did you make it right?”
“I—”
“Don’t lie,” I sang softly, ripping another flinch out of Nyx. “I can get Patrick on the phone right now.”
“I... told him that...” Nyx looked like he was about to be physically ill. “...I would finish the job if he t-told the truth of what happened that night.”
“You bastard!” Tracy shouted.
Even the alphas gaped at him. A fair number of alphas abused their power, but that didn’t mean they went around terrorizing queer people, throwing them off buildings, then going back to threaten them in their wheelchair. Even for someone struggling with his sexuality, that was dark.
“What’s wrong, Nyx?” My smile was nasty. “Aren’t you all about killers being held responsible? Isn’t that why you so fervently went after me? Tearing me up on the field? Hanging me from the ceiling? Beating me with bats? Filming it and putting it online? Destroying the only thing I have left of my mother?”
Nyx glared at me through red-rimmed eyes.
“It was all so an innocent person would receive justice, and I know my clever, charming, handsome fate holds himself to the same standard, doesn’t he?” Steel belied my sweet tone. “Or are you exactly what you look like, Nyx? A self-hating, gay-bashing, power-abusing hypocrite.”
“I’m s-sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you fucking buy his crocodile tears,” Devin shouted at the judges, making Kitty jump. “You all were real fucking proud of yourselves, beating Volana in that video for what she did to Castor. You better bring that same lust for justice against him, or you’re fucking hypocrites too.”
“Wait, why does he get to be judged by only alphas?” Tracy demanded, shooting up. “They’re just going to go easy on him.”
“They’re going to let him off!”
“It’s not fair,” someone shouted. “Daciana said—”
“Queen Daciana,” I called, “if you please.”
“Queen Daciana said the victims’ voices will be heard.”
Dang, she actually called me queen. Are all coups this easy? Why do the history books make it out to be so hard?
“The victim was an omega, the omegas should judge him.”
“Yeah, get the fuck up, Kitty! You too, Andre!”
I just sat back—watching the argument unfold. I really did think this part would be harder, but my fates handed me the key to victory, and they didn’t even mean to.
Well, of course the blackmail material I’d been painstakingly collecting from my time as high priestess listening to secrets in the temple, to my nighttime snooping—that part was pretty important. But blackmailing people is easy. The hard part would be getting them to accept my authority. To look to me as their... queen.
Holding trials was genius.
The omegas needed an outlet for their pain, oppression, and frustration. The betas needed more from life than being the sidekick in someone else’s story. The alphas needed to know that when the ship when down, they’d have a place on the lifeboat.