Chapter 3

Jules POV

The new identity was a cloak that shielded me, but even the deepest shadows couldn’t obscure the past. My once-proud lineage, my blood, still hung over me like a storm cloud. I didn’t know if I could outrun it forever, but I had to try.

In my new home, hidden deep in a community of outcasts, I could breathe. For the first time in years, I was free from the life I was forced into. I wasn’t a pawn for the kingdom, a sacrifice for a lie. I was just a boy, nothing more.

I cut my hair short and wore boy’s clothing. It helped to bury the memories, to bury the princess I had been. No one knew who I truly was here. I had become just another face in a hidden world, one I had crafted for myself.

But it didn’t last.

News spread that the girl they thought was dead, Princess Julian—wasn’t dead at all, her body was missing.The bounty hunters had started searching, scouring villages and towns for any trace of her. Her body wasn’t found.

And now, they wanted me back.

With the bounty over my head, I could not stop moving and had to stay on the move. It was only a matter of time before someone figured out the puzzle of who I was.

*******

I ran.

Though the shouts behind me had faded, i did not stop. I couldn’t. The bounty on my head had turned the world upside down. Every shadow felt like a trap, revealing another hunter eager to claim my life.

My body protested. Exhaustion dragged at my limbs, but fear moved me forward. I had escaped, escaped the city, the rogues, the guards taking aim to kill me like a rabid dog. And yet here, deep in the wild, I began to hope that I was finally out.

The trees soared endlessly in all directions, their intertwining branches creating a canopy so thick that only the faintest hints of moonlight graced the hard-packed ground of the forest. It was a dark place, the kind of land best described in hushed voices. Nobody came here. Nobody wanted to.

But I had no choice.

I pushed on, my breaths labored.

Then I heard it.

The deep, far-off call of a horn.

Slow and eerie, sending a chill through my spine.

I stood still, my chest heaving. The wind changed, bringing with it a different scent, that of smoke and of steel.

I was not alone.

There was something moving beyond the trees. The air was thick with tension and the forest was eerily quiet.

My heart pounded.

Was it a war party? Bandits?

Before I could decide, a shadow moved between the trees.

A man.

No, men.

Figures emerged from the darkness, their armor blackened like wolves in the night. They moved in calculated silence, their eyes scanning the trees with the sharpness of hunters.

My blood ran cold.

I had unknowingly stumbled into their path.

I turned too late.

A hand clamped onto my arm.

I gasped, instinct taking over as I drove my elbow into my attacker’s ribs. He grunted, but his grip didn’t loosen. Another figure appeared behind me.

I twisted, fighting like hell.

I managed to rip free, lunging for the dagger strapped to my thigh

Only to feel a cold blade press against my throat.

“Enough.”

The word was spoken with such quiet authority that the forest itself seemed to still.

My breath hitched.

The man standing before me was unlike the others. Taller. Broader. His presence alone sent fear crawling up my spine. His tunic was dark, fitted to his powerful frame, the fabric embroidered with gold that flickered like flames in the dim light.

But it was his face that stole the air from my lungs.

He was beautiful in a way that was utterly inhuman.

Strong, sculpted features, sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jaw lined with the shadow of stubble, and a mouth that curved with cruel amusement. His skin was lightly bronzed, a stark contrast to the ruthless gleam in his golden eyes.

Those eyes, piercing, luminous, predatory.

I felt something cold slither down my spine.

He didn’t just look dangerous. He was danger itself.

He studied me in silence, as if deciding what to do with an unexpected kill.

I swallowed hard.

Then, from the trees behind them, another warrior approached, holding up something small, my dagger.

“My lord,” the man said. “He was armed.”

The golden-eyed man didn’t react. He simply reached out and took the blade. Turned it between his fingers. Testing the weight, the balance.

Then, he flicked his gaze back to me.

“Why are you here?” His voice was deep, calm, dangerous.

My pulse roared in my ears. “I was….. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

A slow, sharp smile curved his lips. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth,” i hissed.

Silence.

Then

A sharp snarl from one of the men. “He carries an enemy crest.”

My stomach dropped.

My eyes flicked to what the soldier held, a torn emblem from a rival kingdom.

No.

I didn’t even remember grabbing it, I must have taken it while looting for supplies, not thinking, not realizing it would be a death sentence.

The golden-eyed man studied it, then looked back at me, expression unreadable.

“An assassin,” one of the warriors spat.

My heart slammed against her ribs. “No”

A blade was unsheathed. A warrior stepped forward.

“Shall we kill him now, Your Majesty?”

My breath caught.

“Your Majesty?”

My mind reeled. The title alone sent a chill down my spine, but it wasn’t until I saw the emblem on his chest, stitched in black and gold, the mark of a wolf with a blood-red crown, the truth crashed over me like a tidal wave.

I knew that sigil.

Every pack did.

It belonged to the most feared ruler in the land. King Lucian the Alpha of the Ironhowl Pack.

This wasn’t just a noble.

This wasn’t just a warlord.

This was him.

The warlord-king whose enemies vanished without a trace.

The monster whose hands were forever stained with blood.

The predator who never let a trespasser live.

And me, a stranger with a dagger and an enemy’s crest, had just walked straight into his grasp.

He tilted his head slightly, golden eyes assessing me.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then

A low, dark chuckle.

“No,” he murmured. “I think I’ll hunt him first.”

I barely had time to breathe before his grip released.

“Run.”

My body went rigid.

The warriors around them shifted, smirking. Amused.

I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly.

“What?” I breathed.

The king stepped closer.

“If you make it out of my forest,” he said, voice silk and steel, “you’re free.”

His gaze flickered, sharp with amusement.

“But if I catch you…”

My throat went dry.

A slow smile. “I will make you beg for death.”

Terror surged through me.

He was serious.

Everything he had said was real.

Something churned in my chest, fear and anger.

My heart almost beat out of my chest and my breath came out in gasps as I ran down the earth beneath my feet. I couldn't look back. With each painful step forward, I thought about how my heart was all that was left to keep me going and every single breath was a battle of survival. 

The forest around me seemed to surround me like suffocating, monstrous trees with trunk-like limbs. It seemed like the sound of my pursuit was gaining ground.

I had no idea how long I had run for. Long enough where I lost track of time. Long enough where my legs felt as if they were going to collapse around me. But there was no stopping. No thinking. Only survive.

“Run.”

The command from the King had burned into my mind as if someone had branded it in my brain. I was running because he had commanded me to.

The air got colder and the trees got thicker. I could feel him coming. I could almost taste him.

And then I stumbled. That step seemed like it lasted forever. I caught myself just before I made it to the ground and screamed out in pain as I rolled her ankle. But I didn't slow down.

“Don't stop.”

I pushed onward, the sound of the leaves crunching behind me. The sound of heavy boots, his boots pressing everywhere I went. That sound, and the sudden and dark laughter of the man, the man who had turned life into some twisted hunting game.

I could not afford to give him any satisfaction.

My thoughts were jumbled, fear, anger, determination, disbelief. One minute I felt free, and the next I slipped into the snare of the worst kind of man, the man who feasted on the blood of his victims.

When I saw the moonlight filtering through the trees ahead of me, the clearing just beyond where I had just run to, I let out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. Freedom.

I pushed harder, faster, pain penetrating the aching middle of my body, even down to my legs.

It was so close.

But, once again, the ground is shifting below me.

A tripwire.

And before I could react at all, the rope caught me off my legs and yanked my body upward at a sickening pace.

My body swung clumsily, trapped, hanging in place.

No.

I wiggled and kicked my legs against the ropes as the panic shot through my veins. If I was caught now, I couldn't be!

I froze, as the footsteps grew closer. I looked up. My breath caught my throat.

The king.

He stepped out of the shadows like a ghost, looming behind me, his cape billowing as he moved, his messy shining hair falling across his forehead, his hazel eyes fixed on me with that familiar tremulous power, the hint of yellow light giving them a predatory shine. He didn’t try to help me, he just stood there, staring like a predator admiring its prey.

“You didn’t think you could get away from me, did you?” His low voice managed to sound almost disappointed.