Jack had seen courtrooms on TV. You know, stern judges, bored juries, guys in suits pretending they didn't spend three hours rehearsing their "Objection!" lines in the mirror.
This was… not that.
The Tri-Council Chamber looked like the world's most expensive cosplay convention. A giant circular hall carved in black stone, banners of wolves, bats, and silver crosses hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Torches burned with blue flames. Rows of supernatural aristocrats glared down from balconies like judgmental theater critics.
And in the middle of it all—Jack.
Handcuffed. Hungover. Dressed in the same hoodie he'd been puked on last night.
"Human," the High Judge of the Council boomed, his voice echoing like a death-metal intro. "You are accused of trespassing upon sacred prophecy, desecrating holy relics, and destabilizing the balance of three worlds. How do you plead?"
Jack cleared his throat. "Uh… guilty of being broke. Not guilty of knowing what the hell is going on."
The chamber erupted in hisses, growls, and disbelieving gasps.
Lucian, standing to the side like a dark angel of arrogance, pinched the bridge of his nose. Karen cracked her knuckles, ready to start a riot. Love Dick lounged in the gallery, waving at Jack like she was at a rock concert.
The Judge slammed his staff. "Silence! This creature is no king, no savior—he is filth! Dispose of him!"
Jack panicked. Then something inside him snapped.
Maybe it was the hangover. Maybe it was sheer survival instinct. Or maybe he just had nothing left to lose.
He straightened up, squaring his shoulders. "Okay, hold up. You guys are talking about 'balance of the world,' 'sacred prophecy,' blah blah blah. Meanwhile, I've been homeless, broke, and single for months. And somehow, in the last forty-eight hours, I've been bitten, kidnapped, puked on expensive shoes, and now dragged here to be yelled at by a bunch of Halloween extras. You know what? Screw it. If I'm prophecy, then maybe your prophecy just sucks."
Gasps. Snarls. Outrage.
Jack kept going. "Yeah, I said it. You guys act like I'm the problem. But newsflash: I didn't ask to swallow your shiny coin thing! I didn't ask to be blood-bonded, or mate-marked, or hunted by Captain Thunderthighs over there! You want to kill me? Fine. But if your entire destiny hangs on one drunk loser, maybe your world deserves to collapse!"
Dead silence.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then…
CRACK.
A marble pillar in the chamber split down the middle. The glyphs carved into Jack's glowing bite mark flared with light. Energy rippled across the hall, knocking aristocrats back in their seats.
Jack looked at his hand, wide-eyed. "Uh… that wasn't me. I think the building sneezed."
But to the crowd, it looked like a display of divine power.
A vampire noblewoman gasped. "The Blood Moon answers to him…"
A werewolf elder whispered. "The Key is real…"
A hunter priest clutched his crossbow. "God help us."
And then it happened.
From three corners of the chamber, three women stepped forward.
Selene Nightrose, the most beautiful vampire aristocrat, with skin like moonlight and a smile sharp enough to cut. She gazed at Jack, her voice a sultry whisper. "He is not filth… he is perfection. My perfection."
Roxy Fangbreaker, the fiercest she-wolf warrior, hair wild, eyes blazing. She pointed at Jack with claws bared. "He's strong. He's mine."
Seraphina Kane, the legendary huntress, daughter of Chad Thunderbullet himself—deadly, gorgeous, with a smirk that could break empires. She twirled her silver blade, locking eyes with Jack. "I should kill you. But damn it… I won't. Not when I can keep you."
The chamber exploded in outrage.
Jack, meanwhile, looked around like a deer on acid. "Wait, wait, wait. Did I just get—hold on—did three insanely hot women just fall for me… in court? While I'm literally in cuffs and smelling like stale beer?"
Love Dick cackled from the gallery, nearly spilling her wine. "Oh my God. He's irresistible. Someone call Netflix. This rom-com writes itself."
Lucian's hands clenched, fangs flashing. "Enough!"
Karen roared, smashing a bench in half. "Back off, hussies!"
Chad Thunderbullet shouted from the hunter balcony, veins bulging: "Seraphina! That loser is not boyfriend material!"
Jack raised his cuffed hands weakly. "Uh, hello? Can we circle back to the part where you guys wanted to kill me five minutes ago? Because I'm not sure how we fast-forwarded to The Bachelor: Apocalypse Edition."
But the damage was done.
The Council, meant to condemn him, was now in chaos—half terrified, half enthralled, and entirely divided.
And Jack, the broke nobody, had just turned the deadliest courtroom on Earth into his accidental fan club.