Claimed By The Lycan prince

Scarlett pov

“I, Kael Heart, reject you, Scarlett Monroe, as my mate.”

The sentence echoed in my skull like a gunshot, even now—five years later—as he stood in front of me, the same eyes that once promised eternity now filled with something else. Guilt? Regret? I couldn’t tell, and I wasn’t sure I cared to know.

The sound of the prison gates groaning open was louder than it should’ve been. Like they were announcing my release to the gods—and mocking me at the same time.

Funny. Five years locked in a cell, and the memory that still hurt the most wasn’t the cold floor or the iron chains.

It was the way he said my name when he rejected me.

He hadn’t even looked at me when he said it. Just stared straight ahead, like I was a duty he’d finally washed his hands of.

I’d bled for him. Loved him when there was nothing left of me to give. And when I needed him the most, he stood beside my mother and stepfather—silent—while they buried me alive.

Now he was the one waiting for me outside the prison gates.

I saw him before he saw me.

Tall, stiff in posture, dressed too well for the dusty road. Kael looked every inch the man he always wanted to be—powerful, in control, untouched by the past. Except… his eyes gave him away. They always did. Guilt, sharp and raw, was painted behind that calm mask. He still wore the leather bracelet I’d braided for him—now frayed at the edges, like his resolve.

And then I saw it.

A silver pin glinting in his collar: oakwood Pack Lieutenant. They promoted him while I rotted.

For a second, something caught in my throat. A memory, a flicker of the boy he used to be, the boy who once swore I was his world. But just as quickly, the pain shoved it away.

I stepped out into the sunlight. It burned. Not just my skin, but something deeper. My legs wobbled, underused to freedom, and the oversized prison shoes scraped against my ankles. I squinted against the brightness—the light was too sharp, too clean, after years of shadows.

My hair clung limp to my shoulders, matted from too many cold nights and not enough care. My prison-issued clothes hung on me like dead weight. The wind scraped against me like a stranger’s touch. The world had moved on without me. The air smelled of freedom, but I couldn’t breathe it in.

“Scarlett.” His voice was lower than I remembered.

I didn’t answer. What was I supposed to say? Thanks for ruining my life—want to give me a ride home?

He stepped forward, stopped himself. “Lucian… couldn’t come. He sent me instead.”

Of course. My younger brother—the only one who ever fought for me—would never have let Kael near me by choice. But maybe it was safer this way. Lucian had a temper, and Kael had a face that deserved a punch.

“I didn’t think you’d make it out,” Kael added quietly.

“I almost didn’t,” I replied, my voice hoarse. “But I’m not as easy to kill as you all thought.”

He flinched, his jaw tightening.

Good.

We stood there, two ghosts pretending to be people.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said.

“Good,” I snapped. “Because I don’t.”

His mouth parted like he wanted to say more, but I pushed past him. My legs were shaky, like they’d forgotten how to carry me in the world beyond cold stone walls. The sun was too bright. The sounds too loud. Everything felt like too much.

Then I heard it.

The familiar roar of an engine. A deep growl, one I would know anywhere.

I turned just in time to see Lucian slam the car door shut and march toward us, his black boots kicking up dust. His hair was longer now, brushing his jaw, and his golden eyes burned with something wild.

Kael’s body tensed.

Lucian ignored him completely and came straight to me. No words, no hesitation. Just arms around me. Tight. Fierce. The kind of hug that made my breath catch in my throat.

“Hey, Scar,” he murmured. “I got you now.”

I hadn’t cried in years, but my throat tightened. My fingers dug into the back of his jacket.

He pulled back slightly, eyes scanning me. “You’re too thin,” he muttered. “You look like you’ve been starved.”

“I have,” I whispered.

His jaw clenched, and I saw something dark flicker in his expression. Rage. Pain. Regret. All wrapped up in one look. He turned his head slowly toward Kael.

“You can go now,” Lucian said, voice ice-cold.

“I—”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he snapped.

Kael hesitated, then took a step back, his eyes dropping like he didn’t know how to meet mine anymore.

Lucian guided me toward the car. I let him.

Every step felt like waking from a nightmare.

As he opened the passenger door for me, I paused. My hand on the handle, I looked back one last time. Kael stood rooted in place, still watching. Still silent.

“You said you didn’t expect forgiveness,” I said, voice cutting the stillness. “But you wanted it anyway.”

He said nothing.

I let the door close behind me.

Inside, the car smelled like pine and leather. Warm. Real.

Lucian slid into the driver’s seat and glanced over at me. “He didn’t touch you, right?”

I shook my head.

“Good. Because if he did, I’d have left him bleeding on the gravel.”

He didn’t say it like a threat.

He said it like a promise.

We drove in silence for a while. The world blurred past the window. The hills. The trees. The clouds that hadn’t changed a bit in five years.

I didn’t realize I was shaking until Lucian reached over and turned the heat up. I hugged my arms around myself.

“They made you walk out like that?” he muttered. “No jacket? No bag?”

“I’m lucky they gave me shoes.”

“I should’ve come sooner.”

I shook my head. “You came. That’s all that matters.”

“I tried to get you out. I wrote letters. Pleaded with the council. Fought Reyes.”

“I know,” I said. “I know, Lucian.”

He glanced at me. His voice was tight. “I thought I lost you, Scar.”

“You didn’t.”

“Not completely, no. But the pack did.”

I looked at him, and he forced a smile that barely reached his eyes. “Hey… remember when we snuck into the elders’ archives and replaced the Alpha’s records with doodles of sheep?”

I let out a weak, startled laugh. “We nearly got exiled.”

“Yeah, but totally worth it. You drew that one sheep with Kael’s face on it.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“That was the last time I saw you laugh like you meant it.”

I was quiet for a second. Then: “Maybe I’ll draw a new one. A scarier sheep.”

He grinned. “I’d frame it.”

“Remember when you dared me to jump into the river in the middle of winter?” He said.

“You did it,” I said, almost laughing . “Nearly froze your tail off.”

“And you wrapped me in all the blankets from the guest house and made me hot cocoa with salt instead of sugar,” he groaned. “You swore it was a ‘secret warrior recipe.’”

“It was,” I said with mock seriousness. “Made you forget the cold, didn’t it?”

He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I was puking for hours.”

His words lingered, light and nostalgic, offering something I hadn’t felt in a long time—home. Safety. Him.

Lucian’s grip tightened on the wheel. “He visited your cell?”

The question came out like a punch. Quiet, but sharp.

I hesitated. Then nodded. “Every full moon. Stood outside for hours. Never spoke.”

Silence settled like a second skin.

Then, viciously quiet: “I’ll burn his house down.”

I pressed my forehead to the freezing window. Let the cold sear away the image of Kael’s trembling hands, his shadow bleeding into the corridor, always there but never close enough to touch. Coward

“You’re not broken,” he said quietly.

“I feel like I am.”

“You’re not,” he repeated. “They tried to kill you. But you’re still here.”

I looked at him, and for the first time in five years, something cracked inside me. Not rage. Not grief.

Hope.

Small.

Fragile.

But alive.

“You ready?” he asked again, softer this time.

No.

But I nodded.