Claimed By The Fallen King Novels & Stories

I changed into the deep purple silk gown Vincent's people had prepared for me and took his arm as we boarded the deck. Amid the clinking glasses and murmurs, every face belonged to a titan of the underworld. And Vincent was the king here. In that moment, I finally understood why the family elders always said Vincent was the real wolf, while Nico was just a spoiled poodle. Vincent wore an impeccably tailored Italian black suit, the only splash of color a fleur-de-lis pin on his lapel. An Eastern European arms baron approached us with a champagne flute, his gaze shifting knowingly between us.

he said, taking my hand and addressing the crowd, his voice full of love and solemnity, “I, Arthur Russo, am no longer the King of Chicago. I am merely a knight in service to my Queen and our Princess.” He had backed up every promise with concrete action. After the meeting, the news was everywhere. Stories of our love were the envy of all. Tucked among the major headlines was a small, insignificant blurb. Mr. Capello also delivered Lucas’s final letter. I took the envelope but didn’t open it. I walked to the fireplace, watched the roaring flames, and let the envelope fall from my fingers. The fire devoured it in an instant. The past—the love, the hate—was ash.

"Kaima? What is it?" I looked at the black mark on his neck. It had changed. It was no longer a pulse—it was a shape. A crown. "The Hunt isn't the end," I whispered, the weight of the vision settling in my gut. "It’s the beginning of the war for the throne." Before he could answer, a thunderous crash shook the entire manor. The wards didn't just flicker—they shattered. A voice, cold and ancient, drifted through the broken windows. "The First Fang has been claimed. Now, the King must fall."

His gaze shifted from the fragment of the crown beneath my boot to me, then to the rune-covered girl standing at my side. "Zade... Your Majesty," the general began, his hoarse voice trembling in the deathly silence. "The king has fallen. Prince Caspian is dead. You are the firstborn. The throne... and the sword of the Southern Legion are yours, if you spare my men's lives." Every eye turned toward me. The kneeling soldiers awaited their death sentence, while the rebels on the mountainside waited for the order to begin the slaughter. Slowly, I lifted my boot and brought my full weight down on the melted red-gold fragment, crushing it deep into the black mud and ash.

I yearned for the strength to shield myself and the ones I love, to never be at the mercy of anyone else's whims or cruelty. William fell into a silence so deep I feared he would turn me down. However, then, his face softened into a warm, genuine smile he reserved for moments like this. "Sophia," he began, his voice gentle, "you've never needed my protection. You just need to reclaim your heart from where it's been misplaced." He rose and strode to the window, his back to me. "Starting today, you're the Donna of the Vincents. My resources, my network, my influence–it's all in your hands now."

Then suddenly— the entire city shook. Violently. More violently than ever before. Everyone stumbled. Then Lily looked through a broken archway. And froze. The Last King had fallen. Far across the city. The giant king lay on one knee. His spear broken. His armor shattered. The monster stood over him. Victorious. God. No. The King couldn't lose. He was supposed to win. Fair. Heroes win. Reasonable honestly. Then the monster raised one gigantic arm. Preparing the final blow. Then the King looked toward the palace.

Only days after he was crowned he was met by a betrayal from Crimson knight pack, the kingdom at that period was almost at the peak of extension, because of the battle losses, but the young king, single-handedly killed thousands of warriors, he was named as the god of war, some say who have lived to tell the tale. The battle had only happened 5 years back, but still, people talk about it as if it’s a distant past. The head of Dickken Red was pierced at the entrance as a constant reminder for those who questioned the King’s authority. Rather than being overwhelmed with joy, I was angry to not have taken his head. Dicken red, and his son, I can still see them in my dreams. Coming back, people

Do I have some kind of magic power? "See? You are not just a werewolf but one with royal blood." Alejandro told me an old story about the princess who went missing after a war, he told me that I am that princess and I am a royal. "Although you didn't grow up here, I am certain that you belong here." He repeated. All I can do is to watch him and process the information that he is telling me. "About what happened to you last night…" He told me that he is entitled when someone is about to go into adulthood. It's like a process when someone is ready to awaken his or her power.

Although that person's appearance was the same as Claude's, it was not the usual bright, gentle Claude. The person who was slowly tearing up the magazine scattered a dark aura like a shadow in the ancient citadel, elegant, strange, with dark, hateful eyes, filled with the past. "Jamie..." He brushed off the piece of paper clinging to his body, and suddenly felt an overwhelming relief in his heart. Lifting his head, he grinned, "I'm ready!" Cathy patted her chest, "Oh, it's so mesmerising, it gives me goosebumps!" In the afternoon, Claude had just finished applying makeup, from afar, the costume staff rushed over to hug his outfit. The clothes for some reason were torn to pieces.