Chapter 4-The King's Visit

My boots pounded against the asphalt of the old, cracked highway as I sprinted back toward the motel.

The heavy rain had slowed to a miserable, freezing drizzle, but I didn't care. The scent of whiskey and amber still clung to my collar, a constant, burning reminder of how close I had come to losing everything. I had survived Jaxon's cruelty, but a deal with the Lycan King was a entirely different level of dangerous.

I slipped through the back alley of the cheap, neon-lit motel, climbing the metal fire escape to the second floor. I reached our door, sliding my keycard in with a hand that was trembling just a tiny bit.

The second I unlocked the door, I stepped inside and locked it behind me, putting the heavy security chain in place.

"Pack your bags, Leo," I gasped, leaning my back against the door and trying to catch my breath. "We are leaving. Right now."

Leo was sitting cross-legged on the faded floral bedspread. He was wearing his oversized dinosaur pajamas, his tiny round spectacles slipping down his nose as he looked up from his tablet. He didn't look panicked at all. In fact, he looked incredibly disappointed in me.

"You are twenty minutes late, Mama," Leo said, tapping the screen of his tablet. "And according to my calculations, your heart rate is currently sitting at one hundred and forty beats per minute. You didn't get the cargo, did you?"

"I got the cargo, but the cargo was a trap," I said, rushing over to the closet and throwing our small duffel bag onto the bed. I began grabbing his clothes and shoving them inside. "The client set us up. It wasn't regular merchandise, Leo. It was royal contraband. And the Lycan King himself was sitting in the cabin waiting for it."

Leo's eyes widened behind his glasses, his tiny jaw dropping open. "The Lycan King? As in Ethan the Great? The ruler of the entire northern hemisphere?"

"Yes, that one," I said, pulling our spare cash out of the hollowed-out Bible on the nightstand. "He caught me. He pinned me to a wall. He is terrifying, Leo, and his aura is strong enough to crush a normal wolf into dust."

"Fascinating," Leo murmured, his eyes shining with a deeply concerning amount of scientific curiosity. "And how did you escape? Did you use your smoke bombs? Or did you employ the tactical distraction method we practiced?"

"I threatened to kick him in his royal anatomy," I muttered, not looking at him as I zipped the bag shut. "And then I jumped out of a window."

Leo stared at me for three seconds of pure, agonizing silence. Then, he slowly shook his head.

"You are highly uncivilized, Mama," he sighed, sliding off the bed and putting his tablet into his backpack. "It is a miracle we have survived this long under your leadership. We should have negotiated a diplomatic treaty."

"He is a king, Leo, not a trade union leader," I said, grabbing his small hand. "Now let's go. If his tracking dogs are as good as they say, he will be looking for a silver-haired rogue."

"Actually," a deep, smooth voice drifted from the dark corner of the motel room, "I didn't need any dogs."

A cold, electric shock ran straight down my spine.

I spun around instantly, pushing Leo behind my back. My hand flew to my boot, pulling out my silver knife in a single, fluid motion. I held it out, my chest heaving as I stared into the shadows near the small kitchenette.

The shadows moved.

Ethan stepped into the dim light of the motel room’s single lamp. He had taken off his heavy wool coat, wearing just his dark button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing thick, muscular wrists. He looked incredibly out of place in our trashy, ten-dollar-a-night room. He was far too large, far too handsome, and far too powerful for a place like this.

And his amber eyes were locked directly on me, glowing with a lazy, dangerous amusement.

"You really should learn to lock your bathroom window," Ethan said, gesturing with a small, half-empty glass of tap water he was holding. "The latch is entirely rusted out. A child could bypass it."

"Get out of my room," I snarled, my wolf roaring in my head, desperate to either fight him or run. "How did you find me?"

"You smell like pine needles, rain, and a very distinct, cheap laundry detergent," Ethan replied, taking a slow sip of the water and grimacing. "Seriously, this water tastes like pennies. How do you live like this?"

"We live very comfortably without uninvited royal pests," I spat, my grip tightening on my knife. "I told you I was leaving. We had a deal."

"We did," Ethan agreed, his gaze dropping slowly from my face to the tiny boy peeking out from behind my leather jacket.

Ethan froze.

The lazy, amused smirk completely vanished from the King’s face. His amber eyes narrowed, his intense, heavy gaze locking onto Leo. I felt the sudden, violent shift in the room's pressure as Ethan’s dominant aura flared, his wolf shifting just beneath the surface as he analyzed my son.

He was looking at Leo’s dark, curly hair. He was looking at the distinct shape of his jaw. He was looking at his eyes.

"Mama," Leo whispered, his tiny hand gripping my pants leg. He wasn't crying, but his voice was trembling. "His energy output is highly irregular. He is radiating a lot of heat."

"Step back, Leo," I commanded quietly, my heart pounding in my throat. If Ethan realized who Leo’s father was—if he connected the timeline of my rejection to this child—I didn't know what he would do.

"Who is the boy?" Ethan asked. His voice was no longer playful. It was a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated the glass water cup in his hand.

"None of your business," I said, stepping to the left to completely block Leo from his view. "He is my son. That is all you need to know."

Ethan took a step forward.

I didn't hesitate. I lunged, driving my silver knife straight toward his shoulder.

Ethan didn't even flinch. He caught my wrist in mid-air with terrifying precision, his grip like a steel vise. He twisted his hand, forcing me to drop the knife onto the carpet, and pulled me flush against his hard chest.

Our faces were inches apart again. I could feel the immense, furious heat radiating off his body, his amber eyes burning into mine with a sudden, dark intensity.

"Do not test my patience, little rat," Ethan whispered, his breath warm against my lips. "I let you go once. I do not do it twice. Who is his father?"

Before I could spit an insult in his face, a tiny, high-pitched voice cut through the tension.

"Excuse me, giant sir," Leo said, tapping Ethan’s muscular thigh with his plastic dinosaur toy.

Ethan paused, slowly looking down at the four-year-old child who was currently glaring up at him with absolute disdain.

"You are currently violating my mother’s personal boundary space," Leo said, crossing his tiny arms. "And according to the local tenant laws of this province, you are technically committing third-degree trespassing. I highly advise you to release her wrist before I contact the authorities. I have their dispatch frequency memorized."

The Lycan King, the supreme ruler of the entire wolf race, blinked.

He looked at the tiny kid in dinosaur pajamas. He looked at the kid's round spectacles. Then, he looked up at me, his expression a mix of utter bewilderment and sudden, uncontrollable amusement.

"Is your child threatening me with municipal legal codes?" Ethan asked, a slow, disbelieving laugh bubbling up in his chest.

"He is highly litigious," I muttered, trying to pull my wrist back. "Now let me go."

Ethan slowly released his grip, stepping back a few inches but keeping his large frame positioned between us and the door. The heavy, suffocating weight of his dominant aura began to recede, replaced once again by that curious, dangerous spark in his eyes.

"You are a very strange woman, Aria," Ethan murmured.

My heart stopped.

I felt the blood drain from my face, my breath catching in my throat. He had called me Aria. Not "Shadow." Not "little rat."

He knew my real name.

"How do you know that name?" I whispered, my voice suddenly very small, very cold.

Ethan reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, folded piece of damp parchment. He tossed it onto the bed. It was the old, hand-written medical receipt for Leo’s medicine from five years ago—something I must have dropped when I fell through the cabin window. It had my real name written in faded ink across the top.

"I did a little digging on the drive over," Ethan said, leaning his hip against our cheap desk, his eyes locking onto mine with a look that made me feel completely naked. "It seems five years ago, Alpha Jaxon’s fated mate supposedly drowned in the northern river after being rejected. A tragic story. The whole pack still talks about how the weak Omega couldn't handle the pain."

He took a slow step toward me, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper.

"But you don't look very dead to me, Aria. And you certainly don't look weak."