Chapter 4

Betty’s POV

"You need to leave before I tear your throat out," Luka growled, his massive Lycan jaw snapping inches from Madeline's face.

The three triplets scrambled backward, their heels catching on the gravel as they shoved Madeline into the passenger seat of their sports car. The engine screamed, tyres spitting dirt across the driveway as they fled. Luka did not even watch them go. He turned his heavy, silver-furred head toward me, lifted me off the wet grass with one massive arm, and carried me toward the porch. His body was a wall of muscle, radiating heat that scorched right through my damp clothes. I braced for the impact of his heavy steps, but he moved with a terrifying, silent grace, navigating the narrow hallway without scraping a single doorframe.

He dropped me onto the leather sofa with a softness that did not match his claws. Without a word, he turned and strode into the back room to shift and dress.

"He will be back in a moment," Leonardo said, sliding onto the cushion right beside me. He smelled of rain and ozone, his blue eyes sharp as he scanned my face for tears.

"Where are the others?" I kept my voice low, my fingers digging into the leather.

"Hunting," Leonardo said, his jaw tightening. "Some went after Ian to keep him from destroying the timberline. The rest are tracking Gael and Arthur. They missed the morning checkpoint because they wanted to ensure you were still breathing after what those bitches did."

"I am fine," I lied, looking down at my bruised wrists. "But why did Ian run? The mate bond is supposed to be a gift. Why did he look at Madeline like she was a plague?"

The heavy oak door creaked. Luka stepped back into the room, pulling a black shirt over his broad chest. His grey eyes were dark, still swimming with residual Lycan gold.

"Ian had a sister," Luka said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth he usually gave me. "She was soft. Mild. A little strange, just like you. A group of females from our own pack lured her out to the border. They handed her over to a rogue faction. By the time we found her, she was gone."

The air left my lungs in a cold rush. I stared at the floor, the horror of it settling into my chest like lead.

"You do not look like her, Betty," Leonardo murmured, leaning closer until his shoulder pressed against mine. "But you carry her ghost in your eyes. Ian cannot look at Madeline without seeing the monsters who killed his blood."

Luka sat on my other side, his heavy arm dropping over my shoulders, pinning me into his heat. "Micah told me you were talking about the Capital," I whispered, forced to look at Luka's hard profile. "He said you want to take me as your chosen mate. Without a natural bond."

Luka stiffened, a faint flush creeping up his thick neck. "He speaks too much."

"It is not a bad plan," Leonardo chimed in, a wicked grin breaking through his serious facade. "The ritual is painless. An artificial link forged by the High Coven. You get safety, we get you, and the pack cannot touch you."

"Artificial," I repeated, the word tasting like metal on my tongue. "A fake bond."

"A witch's trick," Leonardo said, winking.

Luka let out a warning rumble from deep in his chest, the sound vibrating through my own ribs. "Enough. Her head is spinning. We go to the pool. Now."

"I do not have a change of clothes," I protested, but Luka was already moving. He scooped me up, ignoring my hands shoving against his chest. Leonardo jogged ahead, throwing the glass doors open to the crisp afternoon air.

"Put me down, Luka!" I snapped, my boots dangling above the stone tiles.

He smiled, a flash of white teeth, and then his arms opened.

The air rushed past my face before the freezing blue water swallowed me whole. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. Anger, hot and sudden, burned through the chill. I forced my limbs to go dead, letting the weight of my denim shorts drag me down to the tiled bottom of the deep end. I pressed my back against the floor, closed my eyes, and held my breath.

Above, the distorted sound of my name echoed through the water. Two heavy splashes broke the surface.

Through my eyelids, I saw the shifting shadows of two large shapes diving fast. Leonardo reached me first, his long fingers cupping my chin, twisting my face upward to check for a pulse. Luka grabbed my upper arm, his grip tight with panic. I waited until Leonardo pressed his thumb against my lips, trying to force air into my mouth.

I opened my eyes, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed my forehead straight into his nose.

A cloud of dark blood burst into the water between us. While Leonardo clutched his face, I grabbed Luka’s wet collar, spun my weight through the current, and shoved him hard into Leonardo’s chest. The two of them tangled into a mess of limbs, crashing against the concrete pool wall. I kicked off the bottom, breaking the surface with a loud gasp.

Before I could clear the water from my eyes, two hands locked under my armpits and hoisted me onto the deck.

"A regular little siren," Ian chuckled, his voice rough. He was standing over me, his boots soaked from my splash, a strange red tint rising on his high cheekbones.

"I can hold my breath for four minutes," I wheezed, shaking my wet hair out. "Do not tempt me to do it again."

"Your shirt," Leonardo growled, climbing out of the water while holding a bloody towel to his nose. "It is see-through, Betty."

I looked down. The white cotton tank top was glued to my skin, showing every line of my bra and the dark silhouette of the jagged silver scar on my shoulder blade. Luka stepped between me and Ian, his face dark as he threw a massive black sweater over my head.

"Keep it on," Luka ordered, turning his back so I could wring out my shirt. "What is that mark on your spine?"

My fingers went cold against the wet cotton. "A rogue raid. Three years ago. I took a silver blade meant for the Alpha's son. I was in a coma for eight days before my wolf could purge the poison."

The three men stood in a silent circle, faces turned away while I pulled the oversized black sweater over my head. It smelled of tobacco and cedarwood, swallowing me down to my thighs.

"Ian," I said, stepping into my wet shoes. "What will you do about Madeline?"

Ian stared at the dark forest line, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles popped. "Lycans do not get a second chance at a mate. If I reject her, my wolf will starve. But she is rotten, Betty. I smell the rot on her skin."

"She was not always like that," I murmured, looking at the grass. "When we were seven, she used to share her lunch with me. Her father told her that weakness is a disease. The pack made her a monster."

"Do not defend her," Luka snapped, his grip tight on my wrist. "She chose her path. Now let us go inside. The house has a media room. No more talk of mates or blood."

The afternoon blurred into something that felt dangerously like a home. We played video games until my thumbs rubbed raw, the boys shouting and cursing as I lost every single match. Leonardo tried to fry steak and burned the kitchen curtains, forcing us to eat cold ham sandwiches that I prepared by the dozen. For hours, the weight in my chest vanished. Luka growled every time Gael or Arthur leaned too close to my plate, his Lycan possessiveness bleeding through his skin until his eyes turned gold. We laughed until our ribs ached.

"Betty," Jeremiah said, stepping into the room as the sun began to dip below the horizon. "The Alpha's ball starts in two hours. Should you not be getting dressed?"

The word hit me like a physical blow. I had locked my mindlink shut at noon, wanting to block out the pack. The moment I dropped the mental wall, my mother’s voice screamed into my skull like a hot iron.

BETTY! Where are you? Get back to the eastern wing this instant or your father will strip your rank!

I dropped to my knees, clutching my temples as the psychic noise vibrated through my teeth.

"Betty!" Luka was on the floor before I hit the hardwood, his arms catching my weight. His grey eyes were wild with alarm. "What is it? Who is touching you?"

"My mother," I gasped, pulling away from his touch. "I have to go. If I am late for the presentation ceremony, she will skin me alive. Will I see you tonight?"

"By the old oak at the edge of the lawn," Leonardo said, his face pale as he helped me up. "Do not walk the main path alone."

I ran. The wind bit at my face as I crossed the pack lands, bursting through the back door of the small stone house my parents owned. My mother was pacing the kitchen, a curling iron already smoking in her hand.

"Forty-five minutes," she shrieked, dragging me toward the bathroom by my wet hair. "You look like a dog that has been dragged through a river! Shave, scrub, and get into the bedroom!"

It was the fastest shower of my life. My mother didn't talk; she just worked, twisting my dark hair into heavy curls that she pinned over my left shoulder, carefully hiding the long silver scar. She slapped a layer of pale gloss onto my lips and stepped back, holding up a garment bag.

Inside was an emerald silk dress. It had one shoulder, the fabric draping across my chest like liquid glass before stopping just above my knees.

"Your father spent three months of wages on this," she whispered, her voice finally softening as she slid green rhinestone flats onto my feet. "Go. Show him before the Alphas arrive."

My father was standing by the fireplace in his formal grey tunic. When I walked down the stairs, his eyes went bright with tears. "My beautiful girl," he whispered, kissing my forehead. "The pride of my pack. Run along now, the line is forming outside the grand hall."

The night air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and expensive perfume as I stepped onto the gravel path behind the pack house. I took three steps before a shadow detached itself from the wall.

A heavy boot struck the back of my knee.

I hit the dirt hard, the sharp stones tearing through the thin silk of my dress. Before I could roll, three sets of hands pinned my shoulders into the mud. Madeline stood over me, her face twisted into something demonic under the yellow torchlight. She drew a thin, silver-plated hunting knife from her waistband.

"You little grey-rat slut," Madeline hissed, driving the point of the blade through the shoulder of my dress.

The silver touched my skin, and a blinding scream tore from my throat as the metal burned through my flesh. I thrashed, kicking my legs, but the triplets held me down like an animal for slaughter. Madeline dragged the blade downward, shredding the green silk into wet ribbons, leaving long, bloody gasps across my ribs and thigh.

"He is my mate," Madeline snarled, dropping her heavy heel directly into my cheekbone. The taste of copper filled my mouth as my head slammed into the dirt. "If I see you near the pack house again, I will finish what the rogues started."

They left me there. Their laughter faded down the gravel path, leaving me bleeding in the mud, my father's three months of work ruined in the filth. I curled into a ball, my ribs aching from her parting kick, the silver poison singing in my veins. I was a warrior. A top scout. And I had let them break me like glass because I was too tired to fight back.

A low, thunderous roar shook the leaves above me.

Luka burst from the brush, his eyes completely black as he dropped to his knees beside me. His large hands trembled as he hovered over my bloody shoulder, not knowing where to touch. "Betty. Betty, look at me."

"I am going to kill her," Ian growled, stepping out from the shadows behind him, his teeth elongated, his fingernails lengthening into thick claws. "I reject her tonight. I do not care if my wolf rots."

Leonardo appeared, his face white as death as he stripped off his heavy wool jacket and wrapped it around my shaking shoulders. "Get her to the secondary manor," he ordered Luka. "The Alpha's guard is coming this way."

Luka scooped me up against his chest, his large body shaking with a rage so pure I could feel it in his pulse. I buried my bloody face into his neck, closing my eyes as he leaped over the stone wall, running full tilt into the dark woods.

We reached the manor within minutes. A tall, golden-skinned Lycan I hadn't seen before was waiting at the door, his eyes turning pitch-black the second he caught the scent of blood on my skin.

"Robert," Luka roared, slamming me down onto the leather sofa. "Get the silver-root balm. Now!"

Robert vanished and returned in a breath, holding a small clay pot. I pulled Leonardo's jacket away, my hands shaking as I looked at the ruined emerald fabric fused to my bloody skin. Luka let out a low, mourning sound as he knelt by my side, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he scraped the cool, blue ointment over my torn shoulder. The burning stopped instantly, the skin knitting together with a sickening pop.

"The dress is gone," Robert murmured, his voice rich and smooth as he wiped the blood from my thigh with a warm cloth. "A shame. It suited you."

"It does not matter," I whispered, staring at my dirt-caked fingers. "I am staying here. I am not going back out there to be a circus act."

"Yes, you are," Luka said, his fingers cupping my chin, forcing my gaze up to his dark grey eyes. "Because I have been waiting three days to take your hand on that floor."

"Look at me," I rasped, a tear cutting a clean line through the mud on my cheek. "My hair is a mess. My makeup is ruined. I have no clothes."

Robert smiled, a small, elegant tilt of his lips. He leaned down, took my right hand, and pressed his lips to my knuckles. Luka growled, but Robert did not let go. "I have a trunk in the western wing, miss Betty. Give me twenty minutes, and I will make the Alpha's daughter look like a peasant."

He wasn't lying. In his quarters, he used a hot sponge to clear the dirt from my skin, his fingers moving with the precision of a surgeon as he pinned my dark hair into a high, intricate crown that left my neck bare. The dress he pulled from the cedar chest was a masterpiece of black velvet, laced tightly up the back until my breath caught. It had long sleeves that hid my bruised wrists, but the neckline dipped low enough to show the smooth skin Luka had just healed.

When I walked down the grand stairs of the pack house twenty minutes later, the music stopped.

The silence spread through the five hundred guests like wildfire. The whispers started at the high table and cascaded down to the floor.

"Is that the scout?" "Who are those men behind her?" "Look at the crest on their tunics. Those are Capital Lycans." "She is mated to the Prince's guard?"

Luka stepped through the crowd, his silver hair brushed back, his black formal coat broad enough to block out the rest of the room. He stopped two inches from me, extending a large, scarred hand. "Betty," he said, his voice carrying through the quiet hall. "May I have this dance?"

"You may," I whispered, sliding my hand into his.

He led me to the center of the floor. The orchestra began a slow, heavy waltz, and I let myself dissolve into the rhythm, my eyes locked on his chest to avoid the hundreds of staring eyes. Luka chuckled, his hand tightening on my waist as he pulled me flush against his heat.

"You look like a queen," he murmured.

I looked up, my lips parting to answer, but he leaned down. His mouth met mine, soft and deliberate, tasting of mint and dark honey.

A roar broke from the eastern entrance - a sound so loud it shattered three glass punch bowls on the side tables.

Luka was ripped away from me by the collar, his boots leaving the floor as a massive man with white-gold hair slammed him into the central marble pillar. The stranger turned to me, his nostrils flaring as his chest heaved, his eyes completely consumed by a liquid gold that did not belong to any wolf from our northern territories. He smelled of pine needles and old blood.

He locked his hand around my wrist, pulling me toward his chest as his jaw split into a terrifying, possessive snarl.

"Mine!"