LOGINRhea Collins knows exactly who Ryker is to her. She has known from the first moment she saw him. But a Lycan Prince who cannot smell his mate is a Lycan Prince who will not believe her - and Rhea has spent enough of her life waiting for things she cannot force to happen. So she says nothing. She trains. She watches. And she tells herself that Pi's howling every time Ryker touches someone else is something she can manage. She is wrong about that last part. What she does not know is that the palace she has entered is built on decades of lies. That the king she bows to is not the man he claims to be. That the defense advisor who trains her has been protecting her mate for eight years on a dead woman's instructions. And that the destroyed pack she came from was not destroyed by accident - it was destroyed because someone knew what Rhea would eventually carry, and tried to stop it before it could begin.
View MoreChapter 5 — The TrapRhea's POV"Rhea, you've barely touched your food."Mom's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I look down at my plate. She's right. I've been pushing the same piece of chicken around for ten minutes."Sorry." I force myself to take a bite. It tastes like nothing. "Just tired."Dad sets down his fork. "Long day at school?""Yeah.""Anything happen?" Mom asks. Her eyes are sharp. Concerned.I think about Ryker standing at the front of my classroom. About the way King—I mean, his Lycan—seemed to focus on me even though I never looked up. About Lila being dragged out screaming."Nothing important," I lie.They exchange a look. The kind that says they don't believe me but won't push."The prince seems to be spending a lot of time at the school," Dad says carefully. "That's unusual."My heart skips. "Is it?""Royalty doesn't usually concern themselves with pack schools." Dad leans back in his chair. "Makes me wonder what he's really looking for.""Maybe he cares about th
Chapter 4 — The Tournament AnnouncementRyker's POV"A tournament?" Alpha Daniel leans back in his chair. His office smells like old wood and coffee. "What kind of tournament?""Fighting." I keep my voice steady. Casual. Like this isn't the most important thing I've asked for in months. "I want to assess your pack's combat readiness for the king's report."Daniel's eyes narrow slightly. He's not stupid. He knows there's more to this."And you need a tournament for that?" he asks. "You could just observe our regular training sessions.""I could." I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "But a tournament shows me who your wolves really are. How they handle pressure. How they fight when something's at stake."He studies me for a long moment. Then he nods. "Fine. When?""Two weeks.""That's fast.""I don't have time to waste."Daniel stands and extends his hand. "Consider it done."I shake his hand. Relief floods through me. King settles slightly. One step closer."Keep it simple," I add. "No
Chapter 3 — The HuntRyker's pov "You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?"I stand in front of my father's desk. The office is cold. It's always cold. Big windows. Stone walls. Everything designed to remind you who holds the power here.King Nico doesn't look up from the papers in front of him. "Sit."I sit. Colt stands behind me. Silent. Alert. Always watching.My father finally raises his eyes. "I have an assignment for you.""I'm listening.""The Howlers Pack." He slides a folder across the desk. "Ten years ago, they were wiped out completely. Every wolf. Every building. No survivors."I open the folder. Photos spill out. Burned homes. Shattered bodies. Blood-soaked ground.My stomach turns. "What happened?""That's what I need you to find out." My father leans back in his chair. "There was no warning. No distress call. No survivors to tell the story. The pack simply... vanished.""And you want me to investigate this now? Ten years later?""Before you take the throne, you need to unde
Chapter 2 — The Truth I CarryRhea's pov "Rhea, sweetheart, can you help me with dinner?"Mom's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, staring at my homework without actually reading it. I've been on the same page for twenty minutes."Yeah." I close the book and stand up. My legs feel heavy. Everything feels heavy today.Mom glances at me while chopping vegetables. Her hands pause. "Bad day?"I shrug. "Just tired."She doesn't push. She never does. Instead, she hands me a knife and points to the potatoes. We work in silence for a while. The rhythm is calming. Peel. Chop. Drop into the pot. Repeat."Britney again?" she asks quietly.My hands still. "How did you—""Your jeans." She nods toward my knees. "You came home with blood on them."I look down. I'd forgotten about the scrapes. They don't hurt anymore, but the denim is stained dark in two small spots."She tripped me," I say. "It's fine.""It's not fine." Mom sets down her knife. Her jaw is tight. "R






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