Chapter five

KAEL POV

I watched her leave, the door clicking shut and her footsteps fading down the hallway.

For a long moment, I stood perfectly still.

Confusion was not an emotion I experienced often.

Yet tonight, it settled heavily inside my chest.

I frowned.

Where were the chains? The orders? The smug demands to kneel and be grateful?

I had expected one of those things.

Perhaps all of them.

Over the years, i had learned exactly what people did when they believed someone was beneath them. They treated them as objects. Tools. Toys. Something to entertain themselves with until they grew bored.

But this little woman walked into that hellhole of an auction hall with her head high while an entire room laughed at her. She had spent what appeared to be her last coins on a stranger everyone else considered worthless. Then she had brought me into her home, given me clothes, food, medicine, and a room of my own.

And then she told me I was free to leave.

As if freedom were something a person could simply give away without expecting anything in return.

I did not understand her.

And I hated things I could not understand.

My gaze traveled as I walked slowly around the room, testing the floorboards beneath my feet and studying every corner. Old habits were difficult to kill. I memorized the location of the windows, the doors, and every possible exit.

The house itself was interesting.

Old.

Neglected.

The walls were fraying and had been repaired more times than they should have been. The furniture was expensive but decaying, and the wooden floors creaked beneath my weight.

I moved toward the balcony and looked beyond the darkness.

The entire property was isolated, standing near the edge of the Blue Moon Pack’s territory and surrounded by trees.

Separated.

Out of sight.

Out of mind.

My eyes narrowed.

She clearly wasn’t an ordinary woman. Her clothes had been simple but her posture was straight. Graceful. The servants obeyed her but not because they respected her. And the fact that she owned an estate all suggested that she belonged to one of the pack’s respected families.

Yet this house told another story.

She was important enough to be given a home, but not important enough to be kept close.

Favored enough to possess something, but unwanted enough to be placed far away from everyone else.

I ruled enough to understand the hierarchy.

A member of an influential family who had somehow fallen out of favor.

Perhaps an illegitimate daughter or an adopted one.

Perhaps simply someone her own family did not particularly care about.

The thought made me even more curious.

Why would a woman like that spend her last coins and risk her reputation saving a creature everyone called a monster?

Why would she look at the marks around my wrists and appear angry on my behalf?

Arabella.

Her name passed silently through my mind.

I remembered her standing in the auction hall, small compared to me but refusing to lower her gaze. Her long wavy dark hair had caught the dim light when she raised her hand. And that stubborn mouth.

My jaw tightened.

Her lips had been red and full, and far too distracting for a woman I had known for less than a day.

She was exceptionally beautiful.

I scowled.

That was simply an observation.

Nothing more.

I had met thousands of women before. Princesses, nobles, beauties. I had been flirted at, pursued, and adored by the most eligible she-wolves in the kingdom and some had loved my title more than they loved me.

But none of them had ever looked at me the way Arabella had looked at me when she first saw him in the cage. She was unlike any woman I had ever encountered.

She had looked at me without disgust.

That was rare.

Most people saw only the monster.

Arabella had seen the wounds beneath it.

And instead of asking what I could do for her, she had asked nothing at all.

That was either extraordinary innocence or an extremely dangerous secret.

I had not yet decided which.

Night eventually fell…

Sleep refused to come.

Every movement sent pain through my battered body. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at my hands marred with scars and bruises.

Marks left by men who had believed they were stronger than me.

For a moment, I chuckled coldly.

Those ordinary fools at the auction…they had beaten me, dragged me from place to place. Locked me in cages. Called me an animal. If they knew who I truly was, would they have dared?

If they knew that beneath this cursed skin stood the man whose name had once made entire packs lower their heads, would they have acted so arrogantly?

The anger rose so quickly that my fingers curled into fists.

One day, I would return…

One day, I would stand before every person who had humilated , imprisoned, or tortured me. They would kneel beneath the weight of my power, and I would make them understand exactly what they had done.

But that day felt impossibly far away.

For now, I was trapped inside this curse and it was all because I had trusted the wrong people.

That was the truth that burned the deepest.

I had trusted them.

I had allowed them into my inner circle.

And their treachery had nearly cost me my life.

The curse had weakened me, drained my power until I was barely more than a mortal wolf. But even weakened, I had killed thirty-five men in the auction house before they had managed to chain me.

And my mind returned to the small wolf who had bought me when everyone ignored me.

Thirty silver coins.

I almost laughed.

Somehow, the great war god of the Lycan Kingdom, the man who ruled over the supernatural world, the man who wielded-power, fame, and wealth-beyond what most wolf could imagine was sold for thirty silver coins. The price of a cheap trinket.

How humiliating.

How absurd.

If my enemies knew, they would laugh themselves sick.

My amusement disappeared as quickly as it came.

They were probably laughing already.

They believed I was gone.

Perhaps they had already divided what they thought belonged to me. Perhaps they were sitting around tables in my own kingdom, filling their nights with pleasure and congratulating themselves on their success.

Rage burned through my veins.

I clenched my fists.

The curse had done its work well. My skin had turned unnatural black as shadow. My wolf lay dormant beneath the surface. My power, my title, my kingdom... all of it was locked away behind a magic I could not break. My true form was hidden. My strength was limited. Even my scent had been altered. No wolf or Lycan would recognize me now. I had no way to contact my Beta or any of my royal subordinates. They would be searching for me, tearing apart the kingdom to find their missing prince.

The curse was supposed to keep me like this until I found my destined mate.

A mate.

A bitter smile cracked my lips.

As if the Moon had not already taken enough from me.

Nine previous mates…all dead.

Fate was apparently laughing at me now.

I was now a nameless stranger in a world where nobody recognized me.

I pushed myself to my feet.

The estate was silent as I moved through its hallways, familiarizing myself with every corridor and doorway. Years of instinct made me quiet despite my size. I remained close to the shadows, listening to the old house breathe around me.

Then I heard something.

Soft.

Almost nothing.

I stopped outside one of the rooms.

Arabella’s scent drifted from behind the partially closed door.

I should have continued walking.

Instead, I looked through the narrow gap.

She was sitting on the floor.

Her knees were pulled close to her chest, and her head rested in her hands. Her shoulders shook almost imperceptibly.

She was crying.

Silently.

I watch as she quickly wiped her face. A servant’s footsteps sounded somewhere downstairs, and Arabella immediately straightened.

By the time the footsteps disappeared, she had lowered her head again.

Another silent tear fell.

Realization hit me like a bolt. Earlier, she had faced an auction full of dangerous men without lowering her head. She had walked through the crowd while they mocked her and never once allowed them to see her break.

But now there was no audience. No one to impress. No reason to pretend.

She was wounded.

Destroyed.

But hiding it fiercely as I hid my own scars.

And god… seeing her cry like that…It made something dark and violent rise inside me.

"Who did this to you?" I thought furiously.

And why did the answer suddenly matter to me?

I didn’t know.

That annoyed me even more.

I stepped away from the door.

The following morning, the sun rose. I heard the servants before I saw them.

Their voices drifted down the open corridor as they cleaned.

“Did you see the thing she brought home?”

A laugh followed.

“I heard she bought him at the Obsidian auction. Apparently, she’s so desperate now that she’ll take anyone.”

“It seemed Prince Adrian finally dumped her for her sister, Celine.”

“Can you blame him? Who would choose a worthless adopted duaghter over the legitimate one?”

My expression darkened.

Another servant snickered. “I heard Arabella has been chasing the prince like a dog for years.”

The name hit me like acid, and instantly, irritation flared hot and sharp within my chest.

Prince Adrian Ashford.

The name was familiar. Too familiar.

Suddenly I remembered a younger Adrian standing in the royal hall, stiff with fear while his father repeatedly urged him to show proper respect. I remembered Adrian lowering his head whenever I passed.

The Blue Moon Pack prince practically grovelled at my feet.

And now this same insignificant boy had apparently found himself important enough to discard a woman like Arabella?

I felt nothing but irritation.

Prince?

In my eyes, Adrian Ashford was barely worthy of the title.

The servants continued.

“Prince Adrian Ashford… what a man. He knew better than to waste his time on her. She’s nothing but a charity case, and now look at her—foolish, pathetic Arabella.”

More laughter.

I stepped from the shadows.

A low growl rumbled from my chest before I could stop it.