C3

Lyra Ashfang POV

"Get the royal carriage ready for the Crimson Royal Council chambers, Silas," Prince Cassius Nightbane commands, his deep voice cutting through the heavy silence of the dining hall as he shifts his massive upper body back in his obsidian wheelchair.

Royal Blood Steward Silas Duskmoor immediately glides forward from the dark arched doorway, bowing his head so low his silver hair almost brushes the stone floor. He holds the heavy iron reinforced doors open with absolute, trembling reverence. Cassius doesn't offer me a single look. He rolls right past my chair, his muscular shoulder brushing against mine, leaving the thick, addictive scent of clove tobacco and cold ash lingering in my nose. There is no intimacy between us, no gentle touch for his new bride, just the suffocating weight of his royal vampire authority.

"Where are you heading?" I ask, my voice sounding incredibly small and desperate in the echoing space.

I take a frantic step forward, my skinny four-foot-five frame tensing beneath the heavy silk of my gown. I want to follow him, to demand answers about the healing stones for my mother, but the sheer coldness radiating from his back makes me freeze right in my tracks. My inner wolf whimpers, tucking her tail at his silent rejection.

Cassius stops his chair. He slowly turns his head, his crimson eyes narrowing into lethal slits as he stares down at my dark skin. One leather glove grips the wheel of his chair while his other hand balances a freshly lit cigarette between his index and middle fingers. "Do I look like an Alpha who needs to submit a daily report to a mutt, Lyra?"

My throat goes completely dry. I swallow hard, shrinking back into the shadows of the doorway.

Seeing my immediate submission, the harsh lines around his mouth soften for a fraction of a second. He exhales a thick cloud of grey smoke, his gaze drifting down to my bare, pale ankles. "I am handling matters within the Nightbane Crimson Dominion. If your tiny brain is rotting from boredom inside this citadel, take some pack servants and wander through the Crimson Noble Quarter. Just stay out of the blood slums."

"I understand," I whisper, nodding rapidly. I have no idea how to talk to a high-born vampire prince without getting my head ripped off.

Before the heavy doors can slam shut, Silas Duskmoor steps back inside, holding out a sleek, black obsidian token engraved with the royal blood crest of House Nightbane. "My Lady, the young master commanded me to hand this to you. It grants you direct access to the infinite pack resources and wealth of the Crimson Dominion. You are permitted to drain whatever funds you desire while roaming Ebonhaven."

I stare at the cold token resting in my palm, completely stunned.

Is this my entire worth to him? To sit at his table, absorb his terrifying aura while he eats, and then go spend his royal wealth like a pampered pet? If that is the price I have to pay to survive this madness, I will gladly take every single piece of gold he throws at me. I can use this royal token to bypass my aunt entirely and secure the rare elixirs for Omega Kaela from the Moon Healers' Sanctuary. We might be newly bound by a forced blood covenant, and it feels entirely dirty to steal from his coffers, but my mother is suffocating to death. Money and power are the only things that can buy her breath.

"Thank you, Steward," I murmur, tightening my fist around the stone token.

I turn around to head back toward the grand staircase, totally missing the deep flash of disgust and dark amusement that distorts Cassius’s handsome face the exact moment my fingers close around his wealth.

Down in the courtyard, the royal coachman locks the iron carriage doors as Cassius settles into the leather seat. The driver looks at the prince’s brooding, pitch-black expression through the glass partition and clears his throat. "My Prince, does the werewolf female trouble your thoughts?"

"Deploy three elite blood scouts to shadow her every movement," Cassius commands, his voice dropping into a guttural, dangerous register. "The little bitch knew I was a crippled monster, yet she practically leaped into my lap at the Blood Moon Covenant Hall. She is hiding an agenda. Find out who she is working for."

"Master, my informants have already verified her lineage," the driver replies softly, pulling the horses out of the citadel gates. "She is indeed a daughter of the Ashfang Moon Pack, but she is not the bride Luna Moira promised in the initial treaty. They substituted the Alpha female for this skinny Psi freak."

The corner of Cassius’s mouth twists into a cruel, feral smirk. He adjusts the single red cufflink gleaming on his sleeve. "The Ashfang pack grows incredibly bold. They think they can insult House Nightbane and survive the night."

"Shall I command the Blood Knights to raze their territory, sir?"

"No," Cassius cuts him off, taking a long, slow drag of his cigarette. "This mating is nothing more than a political display for the King and the council. I never expected those filthy dogs to offer me anything of real value. It makes no fucking difference which wolf occupies my bed; they are all the same beneath my boots."

His eyes darken as he remembers the wedding altar. He had looked across the hall and spotted Freya Ashfang, the woman who was legally bound to be his bride, openly rubbing her scent against his treacherous elder brother, Prince Draven Nightbane. The betrayal was loud, foul, and completely expected.

"More importantly," Cassius growls, leaning forward as the dark veins beneath his eyes begin to throb. "Have your hounds located Ella? The female who hid me in the alleyways of the Crimson Noble Quarter half a moon ago?"

He had dragged his broken, bleeding body back to that specific dark alley three times, hunting for even a microscopic trace of her scent. But the heavy rain and the stench of rogue ghouls had completely wiped the cobblestones clean. There was absolutely no tracking her.

"We are scouring every sector, Your Highness, but the trails are cold. If the shadow search fails, I will order a house-to-house blood sweep of the entire district."

In that ancient, decaying boundary zone where the low-ranking wolves and rogue vampires clash, many of the stone hovels are completely abandoned. Only the most stubborn, impoverished pack dwellers remain there, refusing to yield to the royal expansion.

"Screen every single female occupant before the next full moon," Cassius snarls. "That night, Draven’s assassins weren't the only ones trying to tear out my heart. A separate, ancient magical force was pulling the strings in those shadows."

"Understood, Alpha Prince," the driver nods quickly, his throat bobbing as he senses the lethal spike in Cassius's aura. "And... what of Lady Selene Frostveil? She has been demanding an audience since—"

Before the name can fully leave the driver's lips, Cassius’s blazing red eyes snap up, pinning the man with a look so violent the driver instantly chokes on his own breath. "Forgive me, master! I will keep my mouth shut."

The moment the carriage clears the perimeter, I run out of the citadel and sprint straight toward the Moon Healers' Sanctuary.

My aunt Moira promised that the moment the marriage papers were sealed, the Ashfang pack resources would be transferred to my mother’s medical vault. I need to see if those lying bastards actually kept their word, or if my mother is currently suffocating in her bed.

The head healer meets me in the grand stone corridor, shaking his head as we walk toward the intensive wards. "Lady Lyra, most omega wolves who suffer full spinal paralysis only survive a winter or two before their inner beasts give up, causing total organ collapse. But your mother is a marvel. Her internal wolf is fighting like a demon. There is absolutely no sign of failure, which means her chances of a full magical awakening are incredibly high if we maintain the life crystals."

I press my shaking hands against my lips, whispering a frantic prayer to the moon goddess. "Thank you, healer. Please, keep the crystals burning."

I slide past the heavy oak door into the quiet, dim ward. My mother lies perfectly still beneath the glowing glass tubes that pump liquid moonlight directly into her veins.

"Mom, I did it. I took the binding," I whisper, sinking to my knees beside her bed and pressing my dark cheek against her cold, limp hand. "Forgive me for selling my body to the vampires without your blessing, but you don't have to worry. The title means absolutely nothing to me. Prince Cassius is... he isn't the butcher they say he is. He provided the medicines himself. He treats me well, Mom. I am completely safe."

I know her brain-dead form cannot hear a single word, but my internal monologue is so messy and chaotic that I need to pour the lies out just to keep myself from breaking down.

Cassius's lower body is completely ruined. This royal marriage is nothing but a plastic formality, a fake bond to satisfy the council. That means I am completely safe from his bed. He won't be ripping my clothes off or forcing his massive weight down on my small frame. I can remain a virgin, secure the funds, and focus entirely on saving her life.

"Rest now, Mom. I am going down to the lower quarter to procure some raw herbs and daily essentials."

I squeeze her cold fingers one last time before stepping out into the bustling streets of Ebonhaven.

My personal vault is completely empty; I usually spend every waking hour performing black-market Psi tracking jobs just to afford a single vial of healing serum for her. The royal obsidian token Cassius handed me this morning is a literal lifesaver.

I head into a premium boutique in the Crimson Noble Quarter, picking out heavy cloaks and basic necessities. Just as I reach the front counter, a shrill, arrogant laugh echoes from the luxury bag section, making my entire body lock up with instant fury.

"The quality of these dragon-hide silks is unmatched," a familiar, mocking voice purrs. "I buy all my courting garments from this specific vault."

"Oh, Freya, your status as the Alpha's daughter shows in everything you touch," a noble vampire lady giggles beside her. "Let us browse the upper level."

My luck is absolutely fucking vile. The world is massive, yet I manage to collide with this plastic bitch every single place I go.

I duck my head, pulling my dark hood low over my face to slip out into the street unnoticed. I don't want a scene. But before my foot can even clear the threshold, Freya's golden eyes lock onto my small frame.

"Well, well, look what the gutter dragged in," Freya squeals, her painted claws wrapping around my shoulder as she yanks me backward. "Little cousin, what the hell are you doing in a royal boutique?"