Doesn’t Exist

Draven’s POV

The fight had ended almost as quickly as it had begun. Calling it a fight was generous.

Dudley charged in throwing wild punches, convinced brute force alone would carry him to victory. He never bothered protecting himself, never looked for openings, never considered strategy. He simply swung harder each time he missed.

That was his mistake. One opening. One punch. One knockout. The arena erupted with cheers as his body crashed against the mat. The referee counted anyway, though everyone already knew it was over.

I stepped through the ropes without waiting for my hand to be raised. The announcer called my name over the speakers, trying to pull me back toward the center of the ring, but I ignored him.

Recognition had never interested me. Winning wasn’t an accomplishment when the outcome had been decided before the opening bell. Amateur Night always reminded me why I rarely bothered fighting anymore. Humans simply couldn’t keep up. Most of them spent years learning techniques that barely scratched the surface of what came naturally to my kind. They pushed their bodies to the limit while mine never truly reached one.

I rubbed the back of my neck as I headed toward the tunnel leading out of the arena. “I’d like a real challenge one of these days.”

Ash’s amused laugh echoed through my mind. “You already found one.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”

His answer came immediately. “Mate.”

I sighed. “I heard you.”

Ash wasn’t finished. “She’s unlike anyone we’ve ever met.”

“I noticed,” I shook my head. He just wouldn’t stop.

“Strong. Stubborn,” He chuckled.

A smile threatened to appear before I forced it away. “Definitely noticed.”

Ash’s excitement simmered beneath my skin, restless and impatient. I could feel him wanting to push forward for another glimpse of her. “Stay put.”

Reluctantly, he settled, though his curiosity never faded. I stepped into the main arena and immediately found her. Elena. She stood near the front with the two people she’d arrived with earlier. The brunette laughed at something one of them said before carefully straightening, her hand drifting toward her ribs.

The movement lasted only a second. Most people would’ve missed it. But I didn’t. She was hurting. She’d hidden it well throughout the fight, but there was no hiding it from me.

Ash grew unusually quiet.* “She still won.”

I nodded to myself. “She did.”

She wasn’t the biggest fighter in the tournament. She wasn’t the strongest. Yet she’d walked into that cage against a man nearly twice her size and refused to quit. That alone demanded respect.

She turned toward the exit, disappearing into the flow of people leaving the arena. My eyes followed her until the last glimpse of her brown hair vanished through the doors. Only then did I finally look away.

A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. Darren. “I figured I’d find you watching her.”

“I wasn’t watching,” I sighed.

One look told me he didn’t believe that for a second. “If saying that makes you feel better.”

I ignored the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What did you find?”

His expression became serious. “Her name’s Elena Morison. She’s eighteen.” Ash immediately went silent, listening. “Her parents died when she was young. She ended up in foster care, but every record stops when she turned thirteen.”

I frowned. “Stops how?”

“No schools. No foster placements. No medical records. It’s like she disappeared,” His face scrunched up like he was thinking too hard.

That caught my attention. “So someone erased her.”

“Either that,” Darren said, “or she became very good at hiding.”

The second possibility interested me more. People didn’t vanish without learning how to survive. If Elena had been on her own since she was thirteen, she hadn’t survived through luck. She’d adapted. She’d learned. Suddenly, watching her wrap a man twice her size into a chokehold made perfect sense. “What else?”

“Nothing yet.”

Ash’s voice rumbled quietly. “There has to be more.”

“I know.” For once, I agreed completely. “Keep digging,” I told Darren. “I want everything.”

He gave a single nod. “I’m already on it.”

Together we made our way toward the main bar while the crowd slowly settled after the night’s final fight. Carl looked up the moment we approached. Unlike the humans working upstairs, Carl knew exactly who I was.

He dipped his head respectfully. “My King.”

“Carl.”

Silver Fang had always been the Royal Pack. While I ruled every Lycan territory, Silver Fang remained the heart of the kingdom. The palace, the Royal Guard, my council, and the warriors sworn to the crown all called it home. Humans walked these streets every day without realizing an entire Lycan civilization existed not far from them.

“What can I get you?” he asked as he placed a drink on the bar beside me.

“The usual,” I nodded my head.

Carl disappeared behind the shelves before returning with two glasses filled with dark amber liquor brewed exclusively for our kind. Human alcohol barely registered. This did.

Darren lifted his glass. “To impossible mates.”

I shot him a warning look before taking a drink. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“I’ve known you for years.” He laughed softly. “I’ve never seen you distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” I raised my brow.

“You watched her leave,” he chuckled.

“I was making observations,” I shrugged my shoulders.

“You memorized which door she walked through,” he laughed put again. I chose not to answer. His grin widened. “I’ll take that as confirmation.”

Before I could think of a response, a familiar perfume drifted toward me. Sweet. Strong. Impossible to ignore. It was Darla.

She slipped beside me and rested a hand lightly against my arm. “Draven.” Her smile was warm, practiced, and effortlessly beautiful. “You were incredible tonight.”

I offered a polite nod. “Thank you.”

She moved closer. “We should celebrate.”

Without making a scene, I eased my arm from beneath her hand. “Darla…”

Confusion crossed her face. “You promised we’d spend time together.”

The words landed harder than they should have. She wasn’t wrong. I’d made that promise yesterday. Yesterday, everything had been simple. Yesterday, there hadn’t been a human standing in a fighting cage with fire in her eyes and more courage than men twice her size. Yesterday, Ash hadn’t found our mate.

“Don’t,” he warned.

I closed my eyes briefly. “Our mate is human.”

“She’s still ours,” he growled.

Logic pushed back against instinct. Nothing about this made sense. The Moon Goddess wouldn’t choose a human for the Lycan King. Would she?

Ash didn’t hesitate. “She already did.”

I looked back at Darla. She was everything the council wanted. The daughter of an Alpha. A respected member of the kingdom. Beautiful. Intelligent. Graceful. Long blonde hair and iced blue eyes. The girl has curves for days. She would make an excellent queen. If my true mate had never appeared, I probably would have chosen her. I’m already 33 years old. I have been pushed to consider taking a chosen mate. It would’ve been practical. Expected even.

Ash remained silent. He didn’t need to argue anymore. Deep down, I already knew the truth. No matter how impossible it seemed… There was no replacing a true mate.

I emptied the rest of my drink before placing the glass on the bar. Darla smiled hopefully. I let out a slow breath. “Come with me.” Relief softened her features. “We’ll talk in my office.”

She nodded her head, clearly believing the conversation would go her way.

As we walked toward the private hallway, Ash remained unusually quiet. He didn’t need to say a word. I already knew I was about to break the heart of a woman who had done nothing wrong. And somehow... That felt like the hardest fight I’d faced all night.