Chapter 2
The clearing was silent, too silent.
Not a breath.
Not a cough.
Not even the wind dared move.
The Lycan King's claim hung in the air like a decree etched in stone, suffocating the pack beneath its weight.
Me.
He claimed me.
I should have run. I should have cried. I should have begged him to take it back.
But my body stayed frozen, caught between terror and disbelief.
Eamon staggered to his feet, fury and shame twisting his features.
"You can't just take her."
The king turned his head slightly—only slightly—and Eamon fell silent, his throat constricting as if unseen claws wrapped around it.
"You rejected her," the king said calmly. "You forfeited all rights."
His voice was soft, but the entire forest trembled.
Eamon fell to one knee again, gasping for breath.
Alpha Rowan stepped forward cautiously, bowing low. "Your Majesty… perhaps this is a misunderstanding. The girl is… insignificant."
A growl rumbled through the king's chest, not loud, but deep enough to make the ground vibrate.
"Is that what your pack believes?" he asked.
No one answered. No one dared lift their head.
His hand fell to his side, fingers twitching as if restraining the urge to unleash violence.
"She is mine now," he said. "And I do not tolerate disrespect toward what belongs to me."
My stomach twisted. Belongs?
I wasn't an object.
I wasn't a possession.
But every survival instinct screamed not to challenge him here.
The king finally turned to me, and his golden eyes locked onto mine.
Heat shot through me, confusing and overwhelming. His presence was suffocating, not cruel, but heavy with power carved over centuries.
"Elaine," he said, my name rolling off his tongue as if he had known it long before tonight. "Do you walk or must I carry you?"
A shiver raced down my spine.
"I… I can walk."
He nodded once. "Then come."
He extended a hand—not gently, but commandingly. A touch was not optional. A refusal was not imaginable.
My fingers hovered near his. I expected his glove to feel cold, harsh, metallic.
Instead, warmth spread through my skin the moment we touched.
Not mate-bond warmth—this was different. Darker. Wilder. As if something ancient recognized me.
Gasps echoed behind us.
My pack.
My former pack.
Somewhere in the crowd, my stepmother's voice hissed, "This girl will bring ruin…"
The king heard her. His eyes snapped toward her, sharp as a blade.
"You should pray that I forget your voice," he warned softly.
She dropped instantly to the ground.
He led me through the clearing without looking back.
The pack parted like prey fleeing a predator, cheeks pressed to the soil, throats exposed instinctively. Submission—pure and animal—rolled off them in waves.
I should have enjoyed seeing them cower after everything they did to me…
but all I felt was numb.
Once we crossed the treeline, only the king's warriors remained—tall Lycans in black armor, each radiating lethal grace. Their eyes tracked me with curiosity, suspicion… and something like awe.
One of them spoke.
"My King, the carriage awaits."
Carriage?
I expected horses, guards, chains… but instead, through the trees, a sleek shadowy carriage crafted from dark steel and carved obsidian emerged. It looked ancient yet untouched by time.
The king gestured toward it.
"Inside."
When I didn't move fast enough, he leaned close, his voice brushing my ear.
"You look like you might faint."
My breath caught. "I'm fine."
"Lying doesn't suit you."
He opened the door for me. The interior was dimly lit by soft blue flames that cast eerie light across the velvet seats.
I hesitated. "Why… why did you take me?"
The king paused. His golden eyes studied my face as if it was peeling away every layer.
"You called to me," he said.
My pulse stumbled. "I didn't."
"Yes," he murmured, stepping inside after me. "Your pain tore through the veil that separates my kind from yours. It reached me with the clarity of an echo that refused to fade."
I swallowed. "Pain doesn't call kings."
"Yours did."
He sat across from me, massive and unyielding, the carriage seeming too small for the storm that lived beneath his skin.
"What are you planning to do with me?" I whispered.
He leaned back, but his gaze never softened.
"You will come with me to my kingdom. You will be under my protection until I decide otherwise."
Until I decide otherwise.
The unease twisting through me sharpened.
"Protection from whom?"
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze flicked to my chest—no, not in hunger, but in concentration, as if sensing something buried deep inside me.
"You are not what they think you are," he said. "Not a defect. Not an omega. Not weak.
I stared at him, confused. "I don't understand."
"You will."
His hand moved—slow, precise—reaching out as if to touch the space just above my heart. I flinched, and he paused but didn't withdraw.
"There is power sleeping in you. I can feel it."
His voice lowered. "And others will sense it soon."
Fear and disbelief collided violently in my chest. Power? Me? I had lived my entire life being reminded that I had none.
"You're mistaken," I whispered.
A faint smirk curved his lips. "I am never mistaken."
Outside, the carriage began moving, wheels gliding silently over the forest floor.
Silence settled between us—but it wasn't peaceful. It pulsed with unspoken questions… and a strange heat I didn't want to name.
Finally, he spoke again.
"Tell me, Elaine…"
His voice carried a weight that pressed against my ribs.
"Do you regret being claimed?"
My mouth opened—then closed.
Did I?
I should.
Everything I knew was gone.
My pack. My home. My future.
My life now belonged to a king feared by entire continents.
But when I met his golden eyes…
The truth caught in my throat.
"I don't know," I whispered.
He leaned forward, closing the distance between us until his presence wrapped around me like shadow and fire.
"You will," he said softly.
The carriage jolted suddenly—hard enough to make me gasp.
The king was on his feet in an instant, a snarl ripping from his throat.
"What was that?" I asked, heart hammering.
He moved to the door, senses stretching outward. His voice dropped into a deadly growl.
"We're not alone."