A Broken Alpha Heiress' Revenge (Riley) novel Chapter 302

Chapter 302

Riley’s POV

The Elder Council precinct loomed before me, austere and imposing. Its white stone walls gleamed under the midday sun, and the

argent crest of the Council glinted like a sentinel’s eye–watchful, unyielding, a symbol of law and order that demanded respect. I took a deep breath, feeling my chest tighten with a mix of fear and determination. This was no ordinary path I was walking; there was no turning back now. Whatever lay beyond those doors, I had chosen it, and it was the only way I could protect Carmen.

I stepped forward, each footfall heavy on the polished steps. My wolf instincts hummed in my blood, coiled and alert, sensing the tension in the air. The lobby was empty except for a lone packwarden behind a wooden dais, his eyes flicking up at me with mild curiosity that sharpened into full attention as I approached.

“I… I wish to surrender myself to the Council,” I said, voice low but resolute.

The warden straightened, his posture stiffening, tail flicking slightly in agitation. “Surrender? You… what have you done?”

I removed the hood and scarf that had shielded my face, revealing the exhaustion etched into my features. The scars of the past five years weighed on me like chains, each one a testament to the torment I had endured.

“I killed them,” I said, letting the words fall with deliberate weight, tasting like ash in my mouth.

His amber eyes contracted sharply. Murder. Blood spilled under my claws. His hands moved instinctively toward the Council’s signaling horn, but he hesitated, unnerved by the quiet conviction that radiated from me like heat from a wolf in full winter fur.

The cold iron shackles clamped around my wrists when he finally acted. The sensation was familiar, spine- tingling–not from fear, but from habit. Five years ago, I had taken the fall for Scarlett, carrying guilt that wasn’t mine. Five years later, I chose to shoulder Carmen’s survival. The irony cut sharp and bitter.

They led me into an interrogation chamber within the precinct–a small, circular room built with stone and reinforced oak, the walls echoing like the hollowed lair of a mountain wolf. My senses were alert, every scent, every subtle vibration in the air, picked up by my wolf. The warden’s fear, his controlled composure–it all flavored the tension like iron in the wind.

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice firm, carrying the authority of the Elder Council. A carved obsidian slate and a stylus rested on the table before me, ready to record every word, every confession.

1 obeyed, hands gripping the edges of the chair so tightly that my knuckles whitened. My pulse thrummed in rhythmn with the memories clawing at the back of my mind.

“Tell me in detail. Who did you kill, where, how, and why?” His questions struck like throwing knives. I inhaled slowly, letting the memories sharpen in my mind like hunting blades in moonlight.

“I killed Otto Wilson… Selene Ashford. Maddox… and…” My voice cracked, raw and hoarse. Each name was

a shard of memory, bloodied and jagged. The visions surged: Carmen’s eyes blazing, the twisted faces of my enemies, the screams, the betrayal.

The warden’s eyes widened fractionally with each name. He hadn’t expected the woman before him-

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Chapter 302

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slim, fragile, almost ethereal–to wield death with such precision. He tried to mask his shock, but the stylus scratched furiously across the obsidian slate, desperate to keep pace with the story.

“Are you certain these four were killed by you?” he asked again, probing for a crack in my resolve.

I met his gaze, unwavering. “Yes. I killed them. Each of them deserved what came to them.”

He scribbled furiously, disbelief etched in every line. “Explain… why?”

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