After My Mate Stole Moonstones, I Ended His Reign

The pack archives smelled of dust and secrets. I ran my fingers along the spines of leather-bound records, each one containing generations of pack history. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the shelves as I searched for what I needed.

"General Abraham Lopez," I murmured, pulling out a thick file. "Let's see what really happened."

Two years ago, Kane had orchestrated Lopez's fall from grace—accusing the respected elder of treason, fabricating evidence that led to his exile from pack politics. Now, those same records would become my weapon.

I spread the documents across the archive table, my trained eye catching discrepancies that others might miss. The log entries were perfect—too perfect. The handwriting matched Lopez's, but the ink was slightly different, the pressure inconsistent.

"Forgeries," I confirmed, holding a page up to the light. "Sophisticated ones, but forgeries nonetheless."

I gathered what I needed and left the archives, my footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The drive to Lopez's cabin took twenty minutes, winding through the outer territories of our land.

The cabin stood apart from other pack dwellings—a small punishment for a man who'd once commanded our warriors. Smoke curled from the chimney, at least he was home.

I knocked firmly. The door opened after a long pause.

"Alpha Hudson," Lopez's voice was rough with age and bitterness. "What brings you to my door?"

"I've come with the truth, General," I replied, meeting his weathered gaze.

He hesitated before stepping aside to let me enter. The cabin was sparse but clean, with military precision evident in every corner.

"You were framed," I said without preamble, laying the documents on his table. "Kane forged those logs. He needed you out of the way."

Lopez stared at the papers, his hands trembling slightly. "Why show me this now?"

"Because I need your help," I answered honestly. "And because what was done to you was wrong."

The old wolf's eyes filled with tears—not of sadness, but of rage. "Two years," he whispered. "Two years I've lived with this shame."

"I know." I placed my hand on his shoulder. "That ends today."

---

Ridge Ellis arrived at my office precisely at noon, his nervousness evident in the way he checked his watch every few seconds.

"Alpha Hudson," he greeted, his voice carefully neutral.

"Sit down, Ridge." I gestured to the chair across from my desk. "We have matters to discuss."

I waited until he was settled before sliding a tablet across the desk. On screen was the video of Kane stealing the Moonstones.

"Where did you get this?" Ridge's face had gone pale.

"That's not important," I replied coolly. "What matters is what you're going to do about it."

"You can't possibly think I knew—"

"I don't," I cut him off. "But you're his friend. Your sister is his lover. That makes you complicit."

Ridge swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

I leaned forward, my Alpha aura pressing against him like a physical weight. "I want you to choose a side, Ridge. Kane is going down—there's no question about that. The only question is whether you go with him."

I could see the calculations running behind his eyes—the same ones that had made him a successful social climber in our pack.

"Your sister will be implicated," I continued. "Accessories to treason face execution under pack law."

"You wouldn't," he breathed.

"Try me." I held his gaze. "Or you can help me. Testify against him. Provide evidence."

Ridge's eyes darted to the door, then back to me. "What kind of evidence?"

---

The Mind-Memory Extraction was ancient magic—rarely used but devastating in its effectiveness.

Ridge lay on the healer's table, his breathing shallow as the silver tendrils of magic wrapped around his temples.

"This won't hurt," the healer lied smoothly. "Just relax."

I stood in the shadows, watching as Ridge's eyes fluttered closed. The healer—one of my most trusted—began the incantation, her fingers glowing with blue light.

"Remember," she commanded softly. "Remember Kane's words about General Lopez."

Ridge's face contorted as memories were pulled from his mind—not just any memories, but verifiable truths that magic could distinguish from lies.

"I remember," he whispered as the magic took hold. "We were at the hunting lodge... Kane was laughing..."

The healer nodded to me as Ridge began to speak Kane's words aloud—bragging about framing Lopez, planning to exile me to a sanatorium after rejecting our mate bond.

Each word was captured in the magical recording—irrefutable evidence that would stand before any council or court.

When it was done, Ridge sat up slowly, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Is that what you needed?" he asked weakly.

I nodded, already planning my next move. "Yes. Thank you for your cooperation."

As Ridge left, I turned to the healer. "Prepare the memory for presentation. We'll need it for the trial."

The healer's eyes met mine. "He doesn't stand a chance, does he?"

"No," I replied coldly. "He doesn't."