Five Alphas Kneel for Me (Isabella) novel Chapter 578

Chapter 578.

The Detention Pits.

The cold, heavy iron gate clanged shut behind me, sealing me off from the pheromones and clamor of the outside world.

I imagined Wendy locked away in a cramped stone cell, a small slit high above, letting in moonlight that seemed to carry the very color of despair.

Curled up in a corner of the damp straw, knees drawn to her chest, she lay utterly motionless. And I felt… nothing but a strange sense of vindication. My wolf sat tall in my mind, her tail still, watching the fallen Beta with cold eyes.

Evan’s face flashed into my mind, completely unbidden.

He’d always been so sensible, so brilliant, the golden Alpha pup everyone in the pack talked about.

He would quietly save the best kills for me, clumsily sit by my furs when I was sick, and light up for an entire lunar cycle over a casual compliment.

But how had I treated him?

I’d found him not attentive enough, too cold, so unlike Adrian’s fiery temperament.

Gradually, I’d started treating him like a tool, draining his devotion to compensate for Lola’s weaknesses.

Now, I regretted it all.

Suddenly, I scrambled up, rushing to the iron bars. I stood on tiptoes, pressing my face against the cold metal of the tiny window, banging on the gate with all my might, screaming:

“I want to see Evan! I want to see my pup!”

But no one answered. I screamed until my voice was hoarse, the sound echoing through the hollow stone, before I finally gave up.

And once I did, a deeper abyss of despair and regret swallowed me whole.

The incident made its way up the chain of the Pack Council, eventually reaching Evan.

The Alpha’s Keep, high in the Grant Pack stronghold.

A Beta subordinate knocked and entered, respectfully delivering a parchment report.

“Mr. Grant,” the subordinate said, “we’ve heard from the detention pits. Your… Ms. Wendy is asking to see you.”

I heard that when Evan received the telepathic pulse of the news, his hand, poised to sign the pack treaty, faltered imperceptibly. Then,

he immediately resumed writing, his pheromones remaining flat and betraying no other sign of disturbance.

The message came back through the Howlnet that he’d only given a cold, two–word reply:“I won’t see her.”

But I knew, with a certainty that chilled me, those two ice–cold words, meant for Wendy, had to slice through his own wolf just as sharply.

A month later, the trial under the Ancient Covenant began.

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< Chapter 578.

Wendy, implicated as an accomplice, was sentenced to three years of exile and labor.

And Lola, as the mastermind, should have faced a much harsher sentence of total spirit–severance.

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But just days before her trial, neglected and overwhelmed by emotion, her condition worsened again, and she collapsed in the detention

pits.

Though she was rushed to the healers, she never regained consciousness, falling into a vegetative stasis–her wolf had retreated so far into the shadows of her mind that it was as if she were a mere human.

The Pack Council had sentenced Lola to ten years, but I heard she was granted medical parole and transferred to a special facility on the outskirts of the territory.

Because of everything she’d done, and with no one left to pay for her care with tributes, her situation quickly deteriorated.

The caregivers assigned to her–low–ranking Omegas–knew exactly what Lola had done. They held her in utter contempt, so her care suffered terribly.

Her muscles quickly atrophied, her body rapidly withered, and soon she was a mere shell of her former self, her coat–if she could still shift–would have been matted and covered in festering sores.

Someone saw her crying, and the caregivers whispered amongst themselves through the mind–link, wondering if she was truly in a

vegetative state.

“Maybe it’s just nerve damage,” one suggested, her voice low but audible. “Her brain can’t control her body, but her wolf is still conscious, trapped in that cage.”

“Moon, that’s horrific,” another replied, a shiver running down my spine just hearing it.

*She deserves every bit of it, every single bit!” someone else snapped, their pheromones laced with fury.“Pups are vulnerable enough, and she preyed on them, those poor orphans. Not only did she use them, she called them little trash!”

“I think she’s the trash!” another caregiver spat, her disgust palpable.“Let her rot!”

As they ranted about Lola, they didn’t bother to lower their voices, making sure her ears caught every hateful word.

I didn’t even care that the tears streamed from my eyes, falling faster and fiercer with every moment.

“Have you heard?” someone asked. “Fire Pharmaceuticals bought that problematic land, and when they started digging, they found it was hollow underneath–caverns that could have collapsed the whole den.”

“Yeah, I heard,” someone else replied. “They’re going to excavate the land and turn it into an artificial lake and a sacred green grove. It’s also going to be a home for stray animals. Any beast they rescue will be spayed or neutered and then settled there.”

“The artificial lake itself already solved the issue of the underground void,” he stated, his voice flat.“Building a grove, with no heavy stone structures, significantly mitigated the risk of future collapses.”

Then I heard it, the chilling assessment: “If there’s a crack underground, the artificial lake will be the first to give way!”

It didn’t just solve the problem; it added a beautiful new landmark to the Silvermoon territory. It was utterly perfect!

I heard the whispers, the approving murmurs spreading through the pack:“This is making the most of everything, doing good!”

someone declared, their voice laced with sharp criticism.“Not like some people around here, who only ever cared about lining their own pockets with tribute, completely indifferent to whether the pack lived or died!”

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The towering stone walls of the prison had a way of stealing time.

Thirty–six lunar cycles. That was enough time for a lot to change.

Meno

I could only imagine what those three years had been like for Wendy–a seemingly endless torment, steeped in regret and repentance.

I was so used to being Mrs. Grant, to the silk and the choice cuts of meat, that when I first got in, I experienced a kind of suffering I’d

never imagined.

Later, I slowly adapted. When chances for a reduced sentence through the Council came up, I even gave them up.

I wanted to atone for my sins against the blood–bond.

Finally, the heavy iron gates of the prison slowly creaked open.

I had to wear the same garments I’d worn when I entered.

So, when I stepped out, I was dressed in a skirt suit that was hopelessly outdated, faded and yellowed from being poorly kept in the damp stone lockers during my time inside.

I walked out, and the sunlight stung my eyes, making it impossible to keep them open. My wolf blinked, blinded by the sudden brightness of freedom.

I shielded my eyes with my hand, tilting my head back, desperate to keep the tears from falling.

No one was there to pick me up when I was released.

I’d even foregone the chance for a reduced sentence, fearing Evan wouldn’t know my release date.

But he still didn’t come.

He must still hate me.

I lowered my head. I knew he had every right to hate me. I didn’t deserve to be his mother.

Suddenly, a matte–black shadow–carriage pulled up in front of me.

A window glided down, and a male wolf in a sharp suit leaned out. He spoke to Wendy.

“Ms. Wendy, Mr. Grant sent me to pick you up.”

I watched Wendy’s body go rigid.

Mr. Grant? I echoed the name internally, sensing the sudden tension radiating from her, as if the mention of him was a jolt to her very

core.

Was it Carson, or Evan?

I didn’t dare to ask, the words caught in my throat. No matter who it was, the thought of it would flood me with shame, and…

Joy!

I slid into the carriage.

It was just an ordinary transport, not even as nice as the one I’d once assigned to the Grant family’s Omega nanny.

But I was still incredibly happy.

The driver led me to an ordinary residential building in the lower–tier district and opened the door to a two–bedroom apartment.

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“This is where Mr. Grant has arranged for you to stay,” he said.“A basic living allowance will be deposited into your account each

month.”

Hearing that, I knew it was Evan who had made these arrangements.

My eyes welled up. Even though I was an unfit mother, my Evan still thought of me.

I was just trying to swallow past the lump in my throat, about to ask how Evan was doing, when the man’s voice cut through the air, cold as ice. “Unless absolutely necessary,” he said, “please don’t bother Mr. Grant again.”

My body jolted, a sudden, violent shiver running through me. My wolf whimpered once and went silent.

He was giving me these things, I realized with a crushing blow, purely out of ancestral obligation because I was his mother. It was the bare minimum, a fundamental duty of the pack, and nothing more. I shouldn’t dare to hope for anything beyond that.

With his words delivered, the man didn’t spare a glance for my crumbling composure. He simply turned and walked away, leaving me swaying on the verge of collapse.

Wendy stepped into the stark, empty room. Only the most basic furniture was left.

I knew she understood this was Evan’s final act of decency, his last concession to the blood–bond. Beyond that, there was nothing.

I knew the mother–son bond between them had been severed long ago, broken with every choice she’d made for Lola.

Three lunar cycles later, her runic stone pulsed.

Even though she must have known it wouldn’t be Evan, she still picked it up with a rush of excitement. “Hello, you…”

“Is this Ms. Wendy?”

A cold, unfamiliar female voice echoed through the stone, shattering the last sliver of hope Wendy might have clung to.

I heard about the call Wendy received. Her voice, I was told, was thick with disappointment when she finally answered, “It’s me. What is

it?”

But the person on the other end, completely unconcerned with her feelings, just continued,

“Lola is registered as your pup. Her condition is critical now. You need to come see her.”

“She’s not my pup. Do whatever you want with her.” Wendy had simply retorted, hanging up the link without another word.

Just three hours later, the steady beeps of Lola’s life–stone monitor flatlined, announcing her death to the pack. My wolf let out a low, final huff of closure. It was over.