chapter 3

Lucian POV

My father stepped toward me, his heavy bootfalls echoing like thunder against the wooden floorboards of the foyer. The absolute silence in the room was suffocating, thick enough to choke on. His eyes—usually so cold, stern, and unyielding—were glued to the left side of my throat.

For a terrifying, endless moment, he said nothing. He simply stared at the pulsing skin below my ear as if he were staring at a ghost rising from the grave, or a cursed omen brought into his home. The veins in his neck bulged. The color drained entirely from his weathered face.

Then, his jaw trembled.

“You…” His voice was barely a raspy breath, fragile and completely devoid of its usual authority. “You bear the mark… of the Lycan King.”

My fingers flew instinctively to the inflamed flesh. The moment my skin brushed the raised, dark emblem, a jagged current of electrical heat flared straight into my nervous system, making my spine lock in place. It burned. It throbbed with a heavy, rhythmic heartbeat that wasn't my own.

What? I gestured frantically with trembling hands, tears brimming at the corners of my eyes. What are you saying?!

Elena took a slow, agonizing step closer, her eyes glittering with a toxic mixture of absolute horror and venomous, green-eyed envy. The shock on her face was rapidly twisting into something dark and ugly.

My heart sank into a fathomless abyss. The sheer weight of her betrayal crashed over me all over again, suffocating me. I turned my head, my tear-filled gaze piercing straight into my stepsister’s calculating eyes.

Are you happy now? My hands signed in jagged, heartbroken motions, shaking so violently I could barely form the symbols. Is this what you wanted when you put that poison in my drink?!

She stood perfectly still, offering no denial, no remorse—only a cold, unblinking stare.

You can have Adrian now! I sobbed silently, my mute throat convulsing with a ragged, breathy gasp that tore at my chest. He’s all yours! Take him! Take the man I gave my heart to!

I couldn't stay in that room for another second. The air was poisoned with lies and deceit. I turned on my heel and bolted toward the grand staircase, my feet heavy, my sight completely blurred by scalding tears.

“Lucian!” my father’s booming voice barked from the bottom of the steps.

I ignored him. I shoved my hands over my ears, scrambling up the carpeted steps with everything I had left. All I wanted—all I craved—was to lock myself inside my bedroom, bury my face in my pillows, and pretend this cruel, nightmare world didn't exist. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare where my sister was a monster and my body belonged to a terrifying sovereign.

But just as my fingers touched the cold metal of my bedroom doorknob, a sudden, heavy vibration rattled through the floorboards. Heavy, militaristic footsteps echoed from the foyer below, accompanied by voices that carried an unnatural, spine-chilling weight.

“We are searching for the one who bears His Majesty's crest,” a deep, metallic voice echoed through the house.

I froze. My hand remained glued to the brass knob, my pulse hammering wildly in my ears. The air in the second-floor hallway instantly plummeted in temperature, turning my breath into faint white mist.

Slowly, agonizingly, I let go of the door and walked back to the top of the balcony railing, looking down into the foyer.

Standing in the center of our living room were five towering warriors clad in obsidian armor, their broad shoulders draped in fur. Their mere presence radiated an oppressive, dangerous aura that made the entire house feel like a tomb.

One of the guards lifted his head, his sharp, amber eyes locking instantly onto me. He didn't hesitate. He gestured to his men, and within seconds, they ascended the grand staircase with terrifying speed, surrounding me in the narrow upper hallway.

Why are you looking for me?! I signed desperately, backing against the wall, my eyes wide with terror. Who sent you?!

The lead guard stepped forward, his expression carved of unfeeling granite. “His Majesty, the Lycan King, has commanded your immediate presence at the royal palace.”

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it felt bruised. The palace?!

I shook my head violently, tears spilling over my lashes, my hands moving in a chaotic blur: No! No! I am not going anywhere with you! I don't even know him!

Desperation clawing at my throat, I looked over the banister at my father standing helplessly at the bottom of the stairs. Daddy, please! I signed frantically, my hands pleading with every ounce of soul I possessed. Tell them to leave! Tell them I’m your child! Protect me!

I stared into my father's eyes, desperately praying for the man who had raised me to step in, to draw his sword, to fight for his mute son.

Instead, my father closed his eyes. Slowly, painfully, he lowered his head toward the floorboards, refusing to meet my gaze.

“You have to go, Lucian,” he muttered softly, his voice trembling with spineless cowardice. “We cannot defy the King.”

My eyes widened in utter, agonizing disbelief. The betrayal sliced deeper than any physical blade. I have a fated mate out there somewhere! I signed in sheer panic, choking on silent sobs. The Moon Goddess promised me someone! I can't just be dragged away by strangers!

The lead guard took another step closer, his towering shadow swallowing me whole. “You must come with us now. Do not make this difficult.”

Must?! I gripped the wooden railing, my knuckles turning stark white as I gestured with one hand: Why?! By what right?!

“Because it is the absolute command of the Lycan King,” the guard replied coldly. “And his word is law in this realm.”

I swallowed hard, the bitter taste of ash coating my mouth. So that's my life? I signed, a tragic, hollow smile breaking through my tears. He speaks, and I have no choice? I am just a ghost to be traded?

The guard offered no answer. His silence was my execution.

I cast one final, agonizing glance down at the foyer. My father remained motionless, staring at his boots. Beside him stood Elena.

And then I saw it.

A tiny, cruel smile curved the corners of her lips. It was subtle, hidden in the shadows, but it was there. She was thrilled. She had succeeded. The mute burden was being dragged away into the dark, leaving the path wide open for her to take my place, my life, and my lover without a single obstacle in her way.

I wiped the damp tracks from my cheeks with the back of my hand, forcing my posture to straighten.

Fine, I thought, letting out a long, shuddering breath that rattled my empty ribs. Let her have Adrian. Let her have the pathetic scraps of a hollow life. I had already lost my heart, my voice, my trust, and my freedom in a single night. I had nothing left for them to break.

I stepped into the center of the armored guards and followed them out into the freezing morning rain.

The journey to the northern mountains felt like a slow march to the gallows. The black carriage moved with silent, ghostly speed through dense, ancient forests until the sprawling, jagged spires of the Lycan King’s fortress tore through the foggy horizon.

It was a terrifying monolith of black stone and iron, looming over the valley like a sleeping dragon. It looked less like a home and more like a fortress built to keep the rest of the world at bay.

When the massive iron gates groaned open, a cold shiver ran down my spine. I had no idea why the King had summoned me. I didn't know what sick twist of fate had stamped his mark onto my flesh, or why a monarch who could have anyone in the realm would drag a mute, broken omega into his court.

The guards escorted me down endless, dimly lit corridors constructed of rough river stone and lit by flickering torchlight. Finally, we stopped before a set of massive, towering double doors forged of ancient oak and silver.

The guards pushed them open.

I took a slow, agonizing step into the grand throne room.

And there he sat.

The man from the hotel. The silent predator who had awakened beside me.

The Lycan King.

He sat upon a towering throne carved of white bone and obsidian, his massive frame draped in dark velvet and silver armor. His silver eyes were piercing, luminous, and cold enough to freeze the blood in my veins. They locked onto me the instant I crossed the threshold.

My entire body went rigid as stone.

He stared at me for several excruciating seconds, the silence stretching so taut it threatened to snap. When he finally spoke, his deep, resonant baritone reverberated through the cavernous hall, vibrating right through my chest.

“So…” he began, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You are the boy who carries my mark.”

I quickly dropped my gaze to the marble floor beneath my feet, paralyzed by a sheer, primal terror I had never known before.

The rustle of heavy fabric echoed as he rose from his throne. His long, deliberate strides brought him down the dais until his towering shadow completely enveloped me. The scent of him—crushed cedar, winter frost, and ancient, suffocating power—flooded my senses.

“Do you even comprehend what that mark means?” he demanded, reaching out with a single, gloved finger to tilt my chin upward, forcing me to meet his icy gaze.

I slowly, helplessly shook my head. No.

His expression hardened into pure, uncompromising granite, his silver eyes flashing with a spark of dark irritation.

“It means that whether I like it or not… your life is no longer your own,” he declared softly, each word delivered like a iron spike. “You belong to me.”

My heart stopped beating entirely.

“You will be my wife,” he continued, his tone completely devoid of warmth, passion, or affection.

Wife?!

My mind screamed in terror. No! No, this is wrong! I shook my head violently, trying to pull away from his grip, but his fingers held me firm.

“Do not flatter yourself,” he spat, his voice cutting through my panic like a jagged blade. “I do not want you. I did not ask for this cursed bond, and I certainly did not choose a fragile, broken creature like you.”

The harsh words sliced deep into my chest, opening fresh wounds over the ones my family had carved just hours before.

First, my stepsister betrayed me and stole the man I loved. Now, the most powerful male in existence was dragging me to his altar while openly declaring his absolute contempt for my existence. I was nothing more than an inconvenient curse thrust upon his immaculate life.

The Lycan King dropped his hand from my chin, stepping back and turning his broad back to me as if I were nothing more than a stain on his floorboards.

“Prepare the wedding,” he commanded the guards standing at the doors. “We marry at sundown.”

My eyes blew wide. What?! Sundown?!

Before I could even process the horror of his words, he cast one final, backward glance over his broad shoulder. His glowing silver eyes were emotionless, hollow, and utterly devastating.

“From this second forward…” He paused, letting the heavy, suffocating silence hang in the air before delivering his final verdict. “…you are my unwanted wife.”