Rejected By My Family, Claimed By The Lycan Prince

Aria’s POV

The woman holding my arms was twice my size, and the guard standing outside the washroom had already turned his back. I tried to keep my feet beneath me as another prisoner pulled at the collar of my shirt, but the floor was wet, and my left knee had never healed properly after winter.

“You think you're leaving us today?” the woman asked. She pushed me against the sinks and held me there while the other prisoner searched my pockets. “You owe us a farewell gift, Blackthorne.”

“I don't have anything,” I told her. “They took my belongings yesterday, and I haven't been given my release money.”

She tightened her hand around my wrist. “Then perhaps you should have thought about that before telling the officers you were going home.”

I had not told anyone. The prison clerk had read my name aloud at morning count, and by breakfast the entire wing knew I was being discharged. I looked toward the door again, although I knew the guard could hear every word.

“Please don't break my arm,” I said. “I have to sign papers before they'll let me leave.”

The woman released me only when the bell rang for inspection. I stayed against the sink until they were gone, then rinsed the blood from my mouth with cold water. The guard stepped inside as I was trying to button my shirt with fingers that would not close properly.

“Blackthorne, you're late,” he said. “The discharge office has been waiting.”

“I'll come now, sir.” I wiped the sink before following him, because the last prisoner who left blood behind had been made to clean the entire wing.

At the office, a clerk pushed three sheets toward me. My name was typed at the top, followed by the sentence I had served for the murder of Nathaniel Hayes. I stared at the date until the clerk tapped the signature line.

“Your two years are complete,” she said. “Your family has sent a vehicle. Sign here and surrender your prison identification.”

“Was the appeal ever filed?” I asked. “My brother promised to appeal my sentence after the trial. He said I wouldn't have to serve the full two years.”

The clerk checked the folder. “There is no appeal in your discharge record. If you have questions, take them up with your legal representative.”

Damon had made that promise in our father's study while I was still wearing the dress I had worn to Nathaniel's memorial.

Serena had sat beside our mother, crying so hard she could hardly speak. Damon told me that if I confessed, he could prevent a public trial that would destroy Serena and our parents. He said I would be home within months.

I had asked him whether he believed I could survive prison. He had taken my hands and promised he would never let anything happen to me there. I signed because I loved them, and because I thought a promise from my brother still meant something.

Outside the gates, a black car waited beside the road. Damon stood next to it in a dark coat, speaking to the driver. He looked older than he had at the sentencing, although he was still the same man whose handwriting I had kept on the back of an old letter until the guards confiscated it.

“Aria,” he said when he saw me. He crossed the pavement quickly, then stopped as I moved away from his raised hand. “I was only going to take your bag.”

“There isn't much in it.” I held the small parcel against my chest. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to move.”

Damon looked at my wrist, where the skin had already begun to swell. “Who did that to you?”

“It's nothing that needs reporting.” I lowered my sleeve. “Can we go, please? I don't want to stay here any longer.”

He stared at me for a moment. “You're not a prisoner anymore. Nobody is calling you back.”

I wanted to believe him, but he had said almost the same thing two years earlier, just before he handed my confession to the magistrate. I climbed into the rear seat without waiting for him to open the door.

During the drive, Damon told me that the estate had been preparing for two important visitors. King Cassian Draven was conducting a security inspection of several border packs, and Prince Lucian Ravenscroft would arrive that evening to discuss a possible alliance with our family.

“Serena has been helping Mother with the arrangements,” Damon said. “She's nervous about meeting the prince, so I need you to be patient with her.”

“I won't cause any trouble,” I answered. “I would rather stay in my room until the visitors leave.”

Damon adjusted his seat belt. “Your old room is being used. We had to make some changes while you were away, but there's another bedroom ready for you.”

I looked through the window at the road leading toward Blackthorne land. When I was seventeen, Damon had helped me paint that bedroom and carried the furniture upstairs himself. He had told me that no matter where I came from, it would always be my home.

“That's all right,” I said. “I don't need the old one.”

We reached the estate as the staff was carrying flowers through the entrance. Serena came down the steps in a pale blue dress, with Mother close behind her. She paused when she saw me, then hurried forward with her arms outstretched.

“Aria, you're finally home,” she said. “I've been worried about how you would feel when you saw everything. You know we never meant for any of this to happen.”

I stepped aside before she could touch me. Serena's smile faltered, and Mother immediately came to stand beside her.

“After everything Serena has done to welcome you, must you embarrass her at the front door?” Mother asked. “At least try to remember that she's your sister.”

I looked at Damon, waiting for him to say that he had seen my wrist or that I had only just left prison. He kept his eyes on the stone steps.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to embarrass anyone.”

Serena moved close enough for only me to hear her next words. Her smile had returned, and she kept one hand resting on Mother's arm.

“You should be careful what you say while the prince is here,” she whispered. “Because if you tell him what happened to Nathaniel, I'll tell Damon what really happened to you in Blackstone.”