Chapter 147: Evidence

The room erupted in a cacophony of shouts: "What evidence?!"

Sinclair nodded toward the side door. His father wheeled in, followed by grief-stricken she-wolves and my surviving guard. "The evidence is the lives the Prince stole to kidnap Ella," Sinclair declared. "The widows who cannot even bury their husbands because he hid their bodies. The children Damon rendered fatherless in his pursuit of the throne. The eyewitness testimony of Ella and her guard, of myself and my men when we met Damon to set the ransom. The all-clear chime everyone in the valley heard, even while the battle raged on their television screens. The evidence is my father's paralysis, the result of an attack orchestrated by the King—a strategy clearly taught to his son."

More shackled rogues were brought in, looking furious and sullen. "The evidence is the rogues Damon hired to attack his own people," Sinclair continued. "Their financial records show lump-sum deposits from offshore bank accounts just before the battle. It's in the Prince's inaction while the people he claims to love were under attack. And for anyone dismissing the testimony of my allies, I offer video footage of the Prince arriving at our hostage meeting, unaware that Ella had escaped and I was on my way to find her."

Sinclair and I stepped away from the podium, allowing the room a clear view of the screen on the back wall. A black and white image appeared from a ceiling-mounted projector. Sinclair hadn't mentioned sending enforcers to the second ransom meeting to observe the Prince and transmit footage to Roger, or that his brother had recorded it. I’m not sure he even remembered, given the chaos. Roger only offered the footage after learning about the press conference.

As the feed began, a timestamp appeared in the corner, revealing the date. The Prince, with an army at his back, paced in frustration through what looked like an abandoned warehouse. "Where the hell are they?" he demanded. "They should have been here by now!"

"Sinclair's probably setting up his own perimeter," his second-in-command suggested.

"Then why haven't our lookouts sighted him?" Damon hissed. "No, I don't like this. Something's off."

"You think it's a trick, or a trap?" his beta asked, rubbing his jaw.

The Prince stomped his foot. "I told her! I told that dumb bitch he wouldn't give up his campaign—even for his mate. He's up to something."

"But what? A rescue? An ambush?" the other man pressed, agitated.

"Maybe both," the Prince growled. "Move out, and I want eyes on the girl right now. Contact the sentries outside her room."

The video went dark as the Prince and his army left, but the heavy silence spoke volumes. The footage was damning, despite its brevity. They'd captured the Prince referencing Sinclair by name, and the ransom. No one mentioned my name, but another explanation was difficult to find.

The silence was shattered as the reporters came to life, surging to their feet and shouting questions. Sinclair led me back to the podium, pointing to a man in the front row.

"Alpha, if there have been other crimes, why haven't you accused the Prince before now?" he asked.

"Damon and I have been engaged in a shadow war for a long time," Sinclair answered. "I've known what the Prince is capable of for years, which is why I've opposed him. But it wasn't until Ella's kidnapping, and his realization he might lose, that he escalated. My father taught me not to make accusations without evidence. Until now, I've only had my instincts. This is the first time I've had proof to bring our war into the open, but I haven't let his offenses go unchecked. My strategy might be different, but I've defended my pack and family with force when necessary, and done everything to keep Moon Valley safe."

Another uproar followed, then Sinclair pointed to another reporter. "Ella, how did you escape the Prince? Were you mistreated?"

Slightly startled, I took a steadying breath after Sinclair's encouraging squeeze. "The Prince kept me in the Royal Palace. I contacted Dominic through a dream—"

"Because she's the cleverest, most resourceful she-wolf I've ever met," Dominic interjected proudly.

"Not now, Dominic," I retorted, pushing at his jaw as he tried to kiss me. He rumbled a warning, and I shivered, sending laughter through the crowd. "Anyway, I told him where I was, and he explained about emergency evacuation tunnels in the Palace. Luckily, I found one in my room, but it was incredibly long and landed me in the wilderness, as my mate said."

I looked at the curious faces, unsure how to explain my trauma. "The worst part came before and after. I was devastated when my guards were killed. I tried to save them, but it was no use. After—"

"How?" someone shouted. "I thought your wolf wasn't awake yet. How did you defend them?"

My surviving guard stepped forward, his voice thick with emotion. "She sacrificed herself for us, thinking they'd stop once they had her. I only escaped because they thought I was dead."

"We were so outnumbered, I knew we couldn't win," I said. "I didn't realize they only meant to kidnap me, but I knew my fate was sealedI figured theirs didn't have to be, and I was wrong." A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away. "After escaping, I kept going as long as I could, but I didn't have a coat, let alone my wolfand I had to make a decision no mother should ever face: save my life and end my baby's, or let us both die from hypothermia. Nothing the Prince and Lydia did could compare to that pain."

I saw only sympathy and admiration. Then, another reporter shouted, "If he's been attacking your mate, why not kill him? What kind of Alpha lets him try again?"

"Because I believe in the rule of law," Sinclair rumbled, his wolf glowing in his eyes. "Believe me, I wanted to kill him, and still do, but I wouldn't be any better than he is. The ability to control my impulses is what sets the Prince and I apart—"

"That and having a conscience," I added saucily, earning a grin.

"Our system of governance allows us to maintain peace. It's why we advanced out of the dark ages, and I'll be damned if I undermine it with my personal vendetta. Some might call that weak, but the far weaker move is targeting a breeding she-wolf because you're too spineless to face your opponent directly."

Murmurs of agreement filled the room. This was working—they were so distracted by the Prince's crimes that no one seemed to care about our lies. Then, another reporter asked, "Ella, if you didn't know you were a shifter, how did you and the Alpha meet?"

I looked at Sinclair, unsure. We'd discussed this, but hadn't reached a solution. We'd decided to decide based on the feeling in the room. The truth could unravel everything, but a lie could backfire.

"What should I say?" I silently asked my mate.

"It's your call, baby. I trust you."

I looked back at the expectant crowd. Do I lie, or tell the truth?