TOO LATE PRINCE

LYDIA POV

The carriage moved fast through the night.

I sat opposite Adrian, still weak from the poison, my side burning with every shallow breath. The black lines under my skin had faded a little, but the sickness lingered in my blood like a low, constant fire. My roughly cut hair brushed against my neck whenever the wheels hit a rough patch of road. I kept my eyes on the floor most of the time. Looking at him felt dangerous in a different way than looking at Patrick ever had.

He had walked into that banquet hall as a complete unknown. He had bought me in front of everyone without raising his voice. Only after the deal was sealed had he revealed himself as the Alpha of Stormfang. The memory of the room’s sudden silence still sat heavy in my chest.

I did not know what to do with any of it.

“We cross the border before dawn,” Adrian said after a long silence. His voice was calm, practical, as if he were discussing the weather instead of removing me from the only territory I had ever known. “Once we are fully inside Stormfang land, Silverfang will think twice before starting a fight over you. Rest while you can.”

I gave a small nod. Rest felt impossible, but my body was too drained to argue. The poison had left me hollow. Every movement reminded me of the arrow, the basement, the shears, and the way my own parents had looked at me like I was already gone.

The carriage eventually slowed. When the door opened, cool night air rushed in and made me shiver. We had stopped near the tree line. The border markers — two old stone pillars half-swallowed by moss and shadow — stood only a short distance ahead. Beyond them lay the land that would take me out of my family’s reach forever.

Adrian stepped down first, then turned and offered his hand. I took it because my legs were still unsteady. His palm was warm and steady. He released me as soon as I found my balance. His guards formed a loose protective shape around us, quiet and alert.

We started walking toward the pillars.

The ground was uneven. Every step sent a dull spike of pain through my injured side and up my twisted ankle. I focused on the stone markers ahead, counting the distance so I would not think about anything else.

Fifteen steps.

Ten.

Five.

I could already see the other side. The air felt different there — cleaner, colder, free of the scent of Silverfang.

That was when a familiar voice cut through the dark.

“Lydia.”

My body locked in place so hard that pain flared across my ribs. Slowly, I turned.

Patrick Silversson came out of the trees like he had been waiting for this exact moment. He was not alone. A group of Silverfang warriors moved with him, silent and ready. He looked different from the night of the rejection — darker, sharper, as if something inside him had been scraped raw. His green eyes found me instantly, then flicked to Adrian, then back to me.

He closed the distance in a few long strides.

Before I could take the final step beyond the border markers, his hand closed hard around my wrist and pulled me back toward him. The sudden contact sent a sharp, unwanted jolt through the broken bond in my chest. I hated that it still reacted. I hated that my pulse jumped under his fingers.

His voice was low, rough, and final.

“My mate isn’t going anywhere.”

The words hit harder than the poison ever had.

I stared up at him. The same man who had rejected me in front of the entire pack, who had called me fatass while everyone laughed, who had stood silent while my parents beat me and cut my hair and sold me, was now gripping my arm and calling me his mate again.

“Let go of me,” I said. My voice shook with anger and exhaustion and something that felt dangerously close to grief.

Patrick’s grip did not loosen. His eyes moved over my face, taking in the lingering paleness from the poison, the uneven ends of my hair, the way I still leaned slightly to one side to protect the arrow wound. Something complicated and dark twisted in his expression.

“You’re not crossing,” he said. “Not with him. Not after everything.”

I tried to pull free. His hand only tightened, firm enough to keep me there without quite bruising.

“You rejected me,” I shot back. Tears of pure fury burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “Publicly. You watched them laugh. You let my parents drag me away and lock me in a basement. You let them cut off my hair. You let them try to sell me to an old man like I was nothing. And now you stand here and say I’m your mate?”

Behind him, several of his warriors shifted uncomfortably. Adrian and his men had gone completely still. The night itself seemed to hold its breath.

Patrick’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t know they would go that far. I will stop whatever is left of the arrangement. I will deal with your parents. Just don’t leave. Come back with me.”

“Come back to what?” My voice cracked despite my efforts. “To be your breeder? That is what you asked for in front of everyone at the banquet. That is all you said I was useful for. Do you think I will forget that?”

His eyes flickered. For a moment something like regret passed through them, but it was too late and too small.

Adrian’s voice cut through the tension, quiet but carrying real weight.

“Take your hand off her.”

Patrick’s head snapped toward him. “This is Silverfang business. Stay out of it.”

“No,” Adrian replied. He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. “She was sold in a public hall under your pack’s authority. I bought her claim fairly and openly. She is under Stormfang protection as our Healer. You rejected her as mate and Luna in front of witnesses. That means you have no further claim under any law that matters. Remove your hand, or this becomes a direct problem between our packs.”

The air turned sharp and dangerous. Wolves on both sides shifted their weight. One wrong word could start bloodshed.

Patrick looked back down at me. His thumb pressed against the inside of my wrist, right over my racing pulse, as if he could still feel the bond he himself had shattered. For the first time since the night of the rejection, something almost desperate showed in his eyes.

“Don’t do this, Lydia,” he said, quieter now. “Don’t walk away. I will fix it.”

I met his gaze without flinching. The broken pieces of the mate bond throbbed between us like a bruise that refused to fade. I could still remember the exact moment he had looked at me with disgust and spoken the words that destroyed me. I could still hear the laughter. I could still feel my mother’s hand cracking across my face while he turned his back.

“You walked away first,” I said.

For several long heartbeats neither of us moved. His hand stayed locked around my arm. I could feel the weight of every wolf watching, waiting to see who would break.

Slowly, painfully, Patrick’s fingers loosened.

The moment I was free, I stepped back — out of his reach, closer to the border, closer to Adrian. My wrist burned where he had held me. The broken bond in my chest gave one last sharp throb, as if protesting the distance.

Patrick’s hand fell empty at his side. His expression was stripped raw in a way I had never seen before. He looked like a man who had only just realized the size of the thing he had thrown away.

“Lydia,” he said one last time. My name sounded different in his mouth now — heavier, almost broken.

I turned away from him.

I looked at the stone pillars only a few steps away. Beyond them was freedom. Safety. A place where no one had the right to grab me and call me theirs after throwing me away in front of the entire kingdom.

Behind me I heard Patrick’s uneven breathing. I heard the quiet readiness of Adrian’s guards. I heard the restless, ruined thing in my chest that still somehow recognized the man I was leaving.

I took the first step across the border.

Then the second.

Cooler air touched my face on the other side. The scent of Silverfang faded behind me.

I did not look back.