Leviathan

The territory gates boomed open behind me, metal groaning like they were relieved to see me alive. My soldiers' boots hit the dirt in perfect rhythm, and the crowd did what crowds do best—lose their damn minds.

"THE LYCAN KING RETURNS!!!"

"THE MOON GODDESS FAVORS US!!!"

"LONG LIVE THE LYCAN KING!!!"

Normally I'd bask in that. Usually I'd grin, throw a wave, maybe flex a few muscles for dramatic effect. But not this time. Not when the image of a girl with messy, midnight hair and stubbornly bright yellow eyes kept elbowing its way into the front of my brain like she owned the place.

Nyx.

Filthy as hell, bruised, starving, shoved in an attic like a shameful secret—and still beautiful. Not the dainty, polished noble beauty. No. She had the kind of beauty that survives fires and walks out of explosions.

Lethal beauty. I'd never seen it.

But her looks weren't even the loudest thing about her. Her everything was loud.

Smart and educated, yet somehow never saw the inside of a school. Poorly fed but handing me her rations without hesitation. Living in a drafty, bug-infested attic while the entire house gleamed like a showroom because she cleaned it. Watched. Beaten. Controlled. Barely allowed to exist—yet she still had hope in something.

What kind of creature realistically lives like that and still smiles?

What kind of pack keeps someone like that locked away?

My wolf paced inside me, growling, 'go back, go back, go back,' like I'd abandoned a pup in the woods.

I couldn't. Not recklessly. Not without knowing her plan—and she was definitely planning something. Anyone who acts like she does is always planning.

"Your Majesty, we've arrived," General Evan said.

Right. Home. The capital. My palace—where everything ran very efficiently and on a very rigid schedule.

The iron gates swung open with a heavy clank. Inside, the tall torchlit towers rose. Guards held formation. Servants lined the walkway. All the unnecessary pomp that usually made me feel ten feet tall now just felt like too much for me.

Because I kept thinking—Would Nyx like this place better? Would she relax here? Would she look less haunted?

And why the hell was I thinking of her every ten seconds?

Inside the palace, I followed the familiar path to the drawing room—dark crimson rugs, golden lanterns, walls covered in old battle maps my father refused to take down.

My parents stood waiting.

Dad—broad, silver-haired, laugh already halfway out.

Mom—still the fiercest creature in the room despite the soft smile.

"Levi!" She launched herself at me. "You're not hurt this time! That's wonderful!"

"I told you he could lead an army on his own," Dad said, clapping my back hard enough to bruise. "Sit, sit! Tell us everything."

I sat, but my mind didn't. Nyx kept slipping in.

Would she hate it like my mom and dad? Would she like the gardens? Would she sleep in an actual bed or steal food out of habit?

My wolf whined. Her face when she slept...

Dammit.

Was she warm now? Did that attic draft freeze her toes? Did she have frostbite?

Why did I leave without saying goodbye?

Dad snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Are you there, son?"

"Levi? Oh goddess, he's got the PTSD!" Mom gasped.

"What—no," I said. "I'm thinking."

"The boy's too tough to let trauma hold him back," Dad said. "So? What's eating you? Judging from that dumb look on your face, it must be a girl."

"How'd you know?"

"I had the same look when I met your mother on the battlefield," he chuckled. "Now come on—tell us. What's she like? Did you bring her back?"

...Bring her back?

That was allowed? Why the hell didn't I think of that?

"She's living really badly," I admitted. "So much happened." So much I can't stop replaying. "I... want to go back for her."

Mom's face softened. Dad leaned forward like he smelled a dramatic story.

"How bad is it?" Mom asked.

"I didn't ask." Understatement of the damn century. I heard everything. "But I've got an idea."

And that idea made my blood boil.

"I'd like to bring her here," I said flatly.

Dad nodded slowly. "I'm sure that can be done. What's her name?"

"Nyx."

If that was her real name. Saying it out loud hit me like a punch to the gut. And the wolf inside me rumbled one thing, raw and sure:

'Go get her now.'

***

I sat on the boulder at the border, elbows on my knees, staring out at the neutral zone like it owed me money. The air was cold, sharp, still—and I still couldn't stop thinking about the damn attic. The draft in it. The bugs in it. The girl in it.

General Evan stretched beside me, cracking his neck with that annoying older-brother energy he'd adopted over the years without permission.

"So," he said, "where did you disappear to for two days during the mission? Scouts swear you got lost, and honestly? I'm starting to believe them."

I didn't look at him. "I wasn't lost."

"Come on, dude."

"I wasn't." The words came out harder than I meant, but I wasn't apologizing. "There was just someone from the Red Fang Pack. A girl."

"A girl?" Evan perked, grinning like the bastard he is. "I see."

I exhaled sharply. "Her name is Nyx. She lives in the beta's attic. I don't think anyone outside that house knows she exists." My fists clenched. "I want to bring her back."

Evan's smirk turned evil. "So you went territory-hopping for a girl? Damn. My respect for you just plummeted."

"Shut up, man."

"Fine, fine." He held up both hands. "So what's so great about this girl?"

I almost told him none of your damn business, but it was too late. Nyx was already unraveling me, thread by thread.

"She's a walking contradiction," I said. "The entire pack treats her like she's nothing, but she's planning something. I can tell—she's too smart for her own good." I shook my head. "She's smart despite never going to school. And I can't figure her out. I want to help her, but I don't think she'll let me... or maybe she manipulated me into wanting to help her. I don't know." My voice dipped. "I want to find out."

Evan laughed once. "Sounds like you've got it bad."

"I just met her."

"So what? That's how it starts. Honestly? You'll start slacking off soon."

"I'm not—" The denial tripped in my throat. My wolf huffed in my chest like don't lie. "Look, I'm drawn to her, yeah, but it's out of curiosity."

"Right. 'Curiosity.' Sure." Evan snorted. "Bro, judging by that face, you're about to do something incredibly stupid."

Before I could threaten to punt him across the border, a young messenger sprinted toward us like the hounds of hell were nipping his heels.

He skidded to a stop. "Commander Leviathan! General Evan! News from the Red Fang Pack!"

My pulse spiked. "What kind of news?"

Had she run? Had she followed my scent?

"The girl you told us to watch—Nyx—she's been accused of hiding a rogue." He swallowed hard. "They've set her execution for dawn."

The world snapped in half.

Execution.

Dawn.

Nyx.

My body moved before my mind caught up. I shot to my feet, heartbeat slamming against my chest.

"Sir?" Evan asked carefully.

"Gather supplies for an immediate trip," I ordered, voice low, deadly steady. "I need fifty soldiers not on patrol assembled within ten minutes."

Evan blinked. "Seriously?" But he was already jogging backward, turning, moving fast.

"Yes."

He paused just long enough to grin back at me. "Alright, bro—let's go get your girl."