Chapter 9 - Northern Chains

                Prince Romani drove with surgical precision, his hands steady on the leather wheel, his gaze locked ahead as though the road itself was a puzzle only he could solve. For a few blissful miles, the velvet smoothness of the ride almost fooled me into calm, the silence after the packhouse chaos feeling like a sanctuary.

                Then reality hit.

                The skyline of Human Town was shrinking behind us, fading into a cluster of dying lights. We were heading north instead, toward the untouched forests and the glass‑and‑steel mansions of the elites, where secrets hid behind gates and shadows. My stomach twisted into a cold knot as the truth settled in: we were not going where I had expected.

                “You’re going the wrong way,” I said with a rising panic I tried desperately to mask.

                The Prince didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t miss this one much. He spared me a glance that was far too calm.

                “We’re leaving for the Kingdom, Ana,” he mentioned casually, as though he were merely announcing a spontaneous stop for ice cream. “My private Jet is already fueled and waiting. My family maintains a restricted airstrip nearby to avoid the... logistical complications of public travel. We’ll be in the air before the sun even thinks about rising.”

                He delivered this explanation with the dismissive brevity of a man who thought logistics were beneath his station. To him, moving across a continent was as simple as breathing.   Meanwhile, I was gripping my hands together so tightly my knuckles ached with a dull, throbbing heat.

                The Kingdom!

                That wasn’t just a detour, it was a whole different world, a stronghold of Lycan tradition nestled in the rugged heart of Canada. It was a nightmare draped in luxury, and I was being chauffeured right into its maw.

                “Canada?” I hissed, my heart hammering against my ribs. “This wasn't part of the deal, Romani. My life is here. You can't just abduct me because your wolf is feeling needy.”

                I glanced back at the city lights disappearing, fading like dying stars in the distance, then back at the sharp profile of the man beside me. Protesting felt like screaming into a vacuum. I knew that once we reached the Kingdom, my carefully laid plans would be shredded like confetti at a royal wedding. This Prince was hell-bent on shoving me onto a throne I had never asked for, a throne that felt more like a beautifully crafted, gold-plated trap than a triumph.

                Royalty was not my thing.

                My witch blood screamed louder than my wolf instincts ever could, it hummed with the need for the wild, for the unplanned, and for the dark corners of the world where titles didn't matter. I was a free spirit,  untamed, unbound, and utterly unashamed of my ‘hybrid’ status. The idea of being locked up in a Palace, surrounded by bowing courtiers and ancient rules, felt less like a fairy tale and more like a slow-motion death sentence.

                Romani, ever attuned to the frequency of my unrest, suddenly spoke.

                “Don’t look at the window as if it’s a prison bar, Ana. We’ll visit America often. This isn’t a permanent goodbye to your old life, it's an upgrade.”

                His voice was smooth, like expensive bourbon, but I could hear the tempered steel beneath the surface.

                “I can feel your pulse racing. You’re worried about the etiquette, the walls, and the expectations of my station. But remember, I’ll be there. You’re my mate. My wolf needs you to be whole.”

                I suppressed a shiver of genuine disgust.

                The thought of being someone's missing piece, of being an obligatory source of ‘strength’ for a man who already had everything, was suffocating. To him, it was romantic, to me, obligation was just a chain with a more expensive polish. I had spent my entire life breaking the chains my pack had placed on me, and I decided right then that this situation was one I would escape and soon.

                Minutes later, we rolled into a gated community that looked more like a military compound disguised as an exclusive country club.

                Romani didn't even slow down, he just gestured, and the massive iron gates swung open without a moment's hesitation. The guards didn't even ask for ID, they simply bowed their heads as the black SUV roared past.

                “Your Highness,” a voice announced over a radio frequency that bled into the car's speakers. “The Jet is ready for immediate departure. Pilot Jake says you can drive straight onto the tarmac. The flight plan is cleared.”

                The car screeched to a halt on the asphalt, and there it was, the Jet itself. It sat on the runway like a silver predator, its engines already roaring with a low-frequency vibration that rattled my teeth and made my skin prickle. The Royal crest gleamed proudly on the tail, catching the moonlight in a way that felt almost ominous.

                As the car halted, I leapt out before Romani could even kill the engine, moving toward the aircraft with leaden feet. The air outside was cold, smelling of Jet fuel and pine. Each step up the boarding ramp felt like I was walking deeper into a prison of velvet and gold.

                The interior was obscene.

                It wasn't a cabin, it was a flying lounge. White leather captains' chairs, mahogany tables, and a bar stocked with crystal decanters.

                 The Prince joined me and the heavy clunk of the closing door echoed through the cabin like a judge’s gavel, sealing my fate.

                The flight began in a tense, heavy silence as we ascended through the clouds.

                 I stared out the hatch, watching the moonlight reflect off the wing. My resolve only hardened as we climbed higher.

                This fate was not mine to accept.

                As long as the blood of witches ran through my veins, I would fight. No werewolf, no mate bond, and no royal decree would anchor me against my will.

                But then, the atmosphere shifted.

                The air inside the cabin suddenly thickened, turning heavy with a crushing weight of Lycan authority. I glanced at Romani, confused by the sudden, physical pressure, and saw that the charming, teasing Prince had vanished as if he had never existed. In his place was a man I didn't recognize, stern and bone-chillingly cold.

The pressure was so intense it felt as though the cabin’s oxygen had been replaced by his sheer will. My wolf, Era, whimpered, not in fear of a threat, but in instinctive submission to a King.

                The sound clawed at me, igniting my witch blood into a furious boil.

                 I despised the way his aura demanded obedience, despised the way it tried to bend me into something I was not.