Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 280

Chapter 280: Chapter 280

Kaelen’s POV

The morning air tasted like iron and endings.

I stood on the palace steps, arms crossed, watching the transport wagon creak to a halt at the bottom of the stone staircase. Two imperial guards flanked the gate. The sky hung low and grey—fitting weather for a farewell no one would mourn.

Elara stood beside me. Her silver-white hair caught what little light broke through the clouds. She was calm. Composed. The kind of stillness that came not from indifference but from absolute certainty.

Through our bond, I could feel Elara’s silver-white wolf humming with deep satisfaction. Inside my chest, my wolf Alexis paced in response. Warm. Complete. I could feel her pulse alongside mine if I focused hard enough. Every breath she took echoed somewhere beneath my ribs.

The wagon door opened.

Seraphine emerged.

I barely recognized her. The woman who had once swept through court in silk and calculated smiles was gone. What remained was hollow. Her cheekbones jutted sharp beneath papery skin. Her eyes—once cunning, once dangerous—stared at the ground with the vacant focus of someone who had already left this world in every way that mattered.

In her arms, bundled in undyed cloth, a baby slept.

The infant’s face was small and pink. Peaceful. Unaware of the wreckage her mother had caused. Unaware of the wreckage her mother had become.

Seraphine stopped at the bottom of the steps. She didn’t look at me. Her gaze lifted—slowly, painfully—to Elara.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her voice cracked on the second word. "For letting me keep her."

Elara descended three steps. No more. Enough to be heard clearly without shouting.

"The border monastery has been stocked with supplies for a few months," Elara said. Her tone was measured. Professional. Not cruel, but not kind either. "After that, you provide for yourself. There will be no further contact with the capital. No letters. No messengers. If you attempt to return to imperial territory, the sentence will be upgraded to permanent imprisonment."

Seraphine’s throat bobbed. She pressed her lips to the baby’s forehead.

"I understand."

She turned without another word and climbed into the wagon. The door closed behind her. The driver snapped the reins, and the wheels groaned forward across the cobblestones.

I watched until the wagon disappeared through the outer gate. The sound of hooves faded into nothing.

Beside me, Cassian cracked his neck.

"One down," he muttered. "One to go."

The guards brought Gareth out through the east corridor.

Chains. Wrists. Ankles. A connecting length that forced him to shuffle in short, humiliating steps. The sound of metal scraping stone echoed through the courtyard.

He looked worse than Seraphine. Far worse.

Months since I’d stripped him of the Nightfire name. Months since the blood ritual severed every thread of royal lineage from his veins. He’d been imprisoned beneath the palace since then—no sunlight, minimal food, nothing but stone walls and the slow erosion of everything he’d thought he was.

His hair hung in matted clumps. His prison tunic was stained and torn. But it was his eyes that disturbed me most. Wild. Darting. The look of a trapped animal that still hadn’t accepted the cage.

The guards dragged him to the center of the courtyard.

"Elara!" He lunged sideways—or tried to. The chains yanked him back with a vicious clank. "Elara, please—you know me! You know I was desperate! I never meant—I never—"

Elara didn’t flinch. "You meant every bit of it, Gareth. And this is what you earned."

His head swiveled toward me. Something crumbled in his expression. The wildness collapsed into something pathetic—raw, unfiltered desperation.

"Brother!" He strained against the chains. His voice broke. "Brother, please—we share blood! You can’t do this!"

I walked down the steps. Slowly. Each footfall deliberate. I stopped close enough to smell the filth on him. Close enough to see the veins bulging in his neck.

"Bastard," I said. The word landed like a slap. "And that means nothing now."

His face crumpled.

"The prison is three territories away," I continued. "Maximum security. You will work the salt mines until your body gives out. There will be no trial. No appeal. No visitors." I leaned closer. Dropped my voice. "And if you ever speak her name again, I will come there myself and remove your tongue."

Gareth’s knees buckled. The guards hauled him upright and dragged him toward the waiting prison transport—a windowless iron carriage reinforced with wolfsbane-laced steel.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify