Chapter 1325

Chapter 1325:

“Your Majesty,” he said firmly, “she is neither a werewolf nor the Saint of the white wolf clan.”

Colt’s laughter burst out sharp and stinging, like the sound of a blade scraping bone. “Oh, please. At least try to make your lies believable.”

He spun toward the king, his voice thick with false righteousness. “Father, Lucian and I both saw her—with our own eyes—standing beside the werewolf princes during our mission of escorting Jett back. She was among them, like one of their own.”

Silence fell, stretched taut. All eyes turned to Lucian.

I dared a glance from behind Jett. Lucian stood stiff, his mouth tight. He opened it to speak—then caught Jett’s stare. Whatever he had been about to say dissolved on his tongue.

Colt wasn’t finished. His smug voice cut through the stillness as he clapped once. “Father, if you don’t believe my words, then allow me to present a witness.”

As soon as Colt finished speaking, Antoni appeared, his footsteps slow and dragging. The glow of light glinted off his metallic arm as he walked forward, that ever-smirking mouth twisted into something cruel as his eyes settled on me.

Colt gestured grandly. “Father, this is Antoni Harrison—once the Lycan king’s most trusted subordinate. Now, a loyal ally of the Wizard Clan.”

Antoni dropped to one knee with exaggerated grace, pressing his metal palm to his chest. “Greetings, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice a serpent’s purr.

Then he turned his gaze toward me, and the triumph in his smile made my skin crawl. “This woman is indeed the white wolf clan’s Saint. Her name is Makenna Dunn.”

A cold wave of dread slithered down my spine.

But then—Jett exploded with a laugh. Not with humor, but with sheer disdain. When he stopped, his eyes sharpened like honed steel, locking on the king. “So you’re going to condemn her based on his word?” he asked. “A traitor to his own kind?”

The court fell still, caught off guard by the audacity of his words.

Jett stepped forward again. “If you truly want proof—why not use the potion? Doesn’t the Wizard Clan keep one? The kind that forces a werewolf’s true form to surface?”

A long pause followed. Then came the king’s voice—quieter now, worn. “Lucian,” he said, fingers tapping his armrest like a ticking clock, “fetch the potion.”

Lucian hesitated, his eyes sweeping from Jett to me. He then dipped his head and left the chamber.

Instinctively, I edged closer to Jett, drawn to the one steady presence in the chaos. His arm shifted, and behind his back, his hand found mine. His grip was firm—hot, grounding—and I clung to it like a lifeline.

Moments later, Lucian returned, cradling a crystal vial in his hand. The contents shimmered faintly, glowing with a sickly silver hue.

Jett reached out, brushing the rim of the vial with his fingers. “To ensure its effectiveness,” he said, “why not test it on him first?” He pointed at Antoni.

“After all… he’s a werewolf.”

Antoni bristled. “What—” But Colt silenced him with a sharp glare.

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