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Seventy-Five
Dernière mise à jour:
2025-05-01 21:27:19
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Fated To The Cursed Lycan King Eighty-Seven
AmayaToday's combat felt different. I’d just been paired with a guy who looked like he ate bricks for breakfast.Twice my size. Covered in muscles that screamed gym obsession. And of course, full of himself.He looked at me like I was a joke. I smiled sweetly and stepped into the ring anyway.The moment the match started, he came at me hard. I ducked under his punch, barely missing his elbow as I twisted my body away. The impact of his foot slamming into the sand where I'd stood a second ago sent grit flying into my face.The first few minutes, I let him think he had me and played up the dodging. It wasn’t about showing off. It was about surviving the beast.Then I flipped him.One clean move. My leg swept behind his knee, my elbow jabbed into his shoulder, and the next thing I knew, the air cracked with the sound of his body slamming into the ground.Cheers and gasps echoed around me. People from nearby squads rushed to the edge of the ring. The guy’s face twisted in disbelief.Swe
Fated To The Cursed Lycan King Eighty-Six
AmayaThere’s a certain kind of satisfaction that comes from knowing you’ve successfully ruined a male’s peace, and I had just served it to Wesley on a silver fucking platter.I caught him watching. I knew what I was doing. And I knew he’d come back for it.He didn’t waste time either.It was during our squad meeting. The air was hot with the scent of sweat and perfume. We were gathered under the shade near the west wing courtyard, where announcements and decisions were made.And Wesley, of course, stood front and center like the crowned bastard he was.Squad Captain. Obviously. No one even challenged it. The moment the instructors asked for leadership volunteers, everyone looked at him like he was the second coming of the Moon Goddess.He soaked it in, but something in his jaw said he hated it. Still, he stood tall in that smug way that screamed he’d been born to command.“Now,” he announced. “We’ll need an Assistant Captain.”Immediately, the girls around me lost their damn minds.
Fated To The Cursed Lycan King Eighty-Five
WesleyMy mother hadn’t messaged in two days, which meant she’d be expecting a report any moment now. She didn’t like silence. Silence, to her, meant weakness, or worse, disobedience. And even though it had barely been five days since I got here, I already felt like I’d been playing chess against shadows nonstop.I sat on my bed, scrolling through the names I’d saved discreetly in my private notes folder.King Justin’s two daughters were here, Amaya and Amber. One a quiet storm, the other a polished blade. His niece, Riley, too, entitled brat with teeth coated in sugar. There were others. Noble sons and daughters from strategic houses across the South. Alphas-in-training. Heirs of politicians and power-brokers who thought their legacies were safe in books and bloodlines.My parents had made one thing clear: the goal was infiltration. To study them. Map their faults. Play nice, smile when needed, and report back every weakness that could bring the Southern region to its knees.But they
Fated To The Cursed Lycan King Eighty-Four
Amaya My thumb was hovering over the call button, as if the outcome might be different this time. It wasn't. Voicemail. Again. I hung up. Why do I even bother? I’d already called my mother three times and sent two texts, not because I had anything new to say, but because I wanted her to prove me wrong. Just once. To act like she cared that I existed. But she didn’t. She never had. And I hated that it still hurt, that a grown-ass woman like me could still feel her insides get ripped up over a mother who’d long since abandoned her. Was I really the only one cursed like this? Other people had mothers who would kill for them and die for them. I’d seen Marissa fuss over Amber like the girl's life was her entire world. I’d watched her lose sleep over a fever, cancel council meetings because of a nosebleed. Even Aunt Justin worshipped her kids. You could see it in her eyes: she would choose her daughter, Riley, over the whole damn kingdom if she had to. So why the hell couldn’t I h
Fated To The Cursed Lycan King Eighty-Three
Wesley The sun hung low over the training field. Whistles split the air, followed by the thuds of instructors’ boots. Cadets dropped to the gravel in unison for push-ups. I stood near the back of Squad 4, my shirt damp with a light sweat. Not from exertion, but the weather. I wasn’t even tired. Just bored.I had better things to do than waste time at this Academy. It wasn’t just pointless, it was claustrophobic. Everywhere I turned, girls stared. Some looked at me like I was dinner. A few even faked clumsy falls to get my attention. Others giggled like it was a sport every time I breathed. It was fucking exhausting.Being this desirable should’ve been illegal.I ran a hand through my hair, irritated. I was tired. Tired of the worship. Tired of the expectations. Tired of being treated like a god in a world where I never asked to be one.Then I saw Amaya. Cold, distant Amaya. The only one who didn’t seem affected by me. Or pretended not to be. It was a strange relief. She was crouche
Fated To The Cursed Lycan King Eighty-Two
AmayaI got to the field. It was easily the biggest I'd ever seen. Students stood in rows, each section marked by a colored flag. Apparently, our rank didn’t determine the squad we’d be placed in; the last digit of our registration number did. Mine was four, so I was in Squad 4.I headed toward them, and a commotion broke out near the end of the row. Girls were whispering, giggling, and some were even trying to switch squads. All of them were losing it over Prince Wesley.I spotted him through the bodies. He stood tall, calm, and absurdly good-looking in that annoyingly self-aware way. Of course, it was him—Mr. Dangerous Smile himself.I stayed where I was, a good three feet away, not sparing him a glance.The director waddled onto the field, and silence fell immediately. The man looked like he’d swallowed a sofa cushion. His round belly bulged under a tight shirt, the buttons clinging on for dear life. But his voice could scare someone o
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