Two

KELVON'S POV

I stood motionless on the stone platform, my face carved into the mask of indifference that had become my second skin. The morning air bit through my obsidian-scaled armor, but I couldn't feel it. I couldn't let myself feel anything.

Allen knelt before the execution block, his form so much smaller than I remembered. Blood matted his hair, his face nearly unrecognizable from the beatings. Yet somehow, impossibly, he still managed to smile. That damned smile that had once brightened our secret meetings in the underground passages of the citadel, where we had planned how to smuggle food and medicine to the human settlements beyond my father's knowledge.

I'm sorry, Allen. I'm so sorry.

My wolf raged inside me, clawing at my chest, howling in grief and fury. But I kept my silver eyes cold, my expression impassive. Father's spies were everywhere. Commander Vryk stood just behind me, his yellow eyes missing nothing. Two of my father's personal guard flanked the platform. They weren't here to provide security. They were here to report back to the Lycan King about his half-breed son's loyalty.

"Proceed with the execution," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

My father's words from the night before echoed in my mind: "Your human blood makes you weak, Kelvon. Tomorrow, you will prove your loyalty. You will execute the traitor yourself, or I will have every human in the Southern Territories slaughtered, starting with the children."

Father had known. All this time, he'd known about Allen working for me, about our network of human spies and informants. About my secret attempts to honor my mother's dying wish.

"Always be kind to humans, my darling," she had whispered, her fingers weak against my cheek as fever consumed her. "Promise me. They are not the monsters your father claims. They are just people, trying to survive. Like us."

I was seven when she died. Seven when I watched my father order her body burned rather than buried in the royal tomb. "Human filth," he'd called her, though he'd once claimed to love her.

I descended the steps toward Allen, unsheathing my sword. Each step felt like walking through deep water, my limbs heavy with the weight of what I was about to do. Inside, my wolf whimpered and thrashed, rebelling against the coming betrayal.

Allen looked up at me, his one good eye clear despite everything. Understanding passed between us. He knew I had no choice. He knew what my father was capable of.

"You don't have to do this!" Allen shouted, his voice carrying across the yard. "You say you're better than us. Prove it."

A performance for the watching eyes. A way to maintain our secret, even now. To anyone else, it would sound like defiance from a condemned man. To me, it was absolution.

I'm not better than you, Allen. I never was.

"I'm not interested in proving anything," I replied, keeping my voice flat. "Only in reminding your kind where you belong."

My wolf howled in anguish at the words. Words that belonged to my father, not me. Never me.

I raised my sword, focusing on a point just above Allen's head, unable to look into his eyes. Inside, I was screaming. Inside, tears streamed down my face. But outwardly, I remained the perfect Lycan prince – merciless, cold, removing a threat to the kingdom.

The sword came down.

The sound of blade meeting flesh and bone shattered something essential inside me. Allen's body convulsed once, then went still. Blood sprayed across my boots, across the stone, vibrant red against the colorless world. I felt a piece of my soul die with him, my oldest friend, my most trusted ally in this silent war against my father's cruelty.

A scream tore through the silence of the yard. Raw. Primal. Full of rage and grief that matched what I couldn't express.

I looked up, my gaze finding the source.

A human girl with wild cornflower blue eyes and tangled dark hair fought against the guards holding her. She was thin, half-starved like all the slaves, but she fought with the ferocity of someone with nothing left to lose. Something pulled at my attention, drew my focus to her completely.

"Allen!" she screamed, her voice cracking with anguish. "You bastards! he was all I had! He came back for me! It's my fault! MY FAULT!"

The moment our eyes met, my wolf suddenly went silent. The rage, the grief, the howling storm inside me, all of it vanished in an instant, replaced by a single, impossible certainty.

Mate.

The world tilted beneath my feet. My wolf surged forward, pressing against the boundaries of my skin, desperate to reach her. Every instinct I possessed demanded I cross the yard, take her in my arms, protect her from everything, including myself.

No. Not now. Not like this. Not her.

The cruel joke of fate wasn't lost on me. Of course my mate would be human. Of course she would appear at the exact moment I'd executed someone she clearly loved. Of course she would look at me with pure hatred in her eyes.

I wrestled my wolf back under control, though it nearly broke me to do so. Commander Vryk was watching. The guards were watching. If anyone suspected what I'd just discovered, she would be dead before nightfall. My father would make sure of it.

"Bring her," I said, the command steady despite the chaos inside me.

The girl thrashed against the guards as they dragged her forward. Hate and grief radiated from her in waves, each one hitting me like a physical blow. I deserved her hatred. I had earned it with Allen's blood.

"What is your name?" I asked when she knelt before me.

She remained silent, staring at the ground, her body trembling with rage or fear or both.

I crouched before her, coming to her level, needing to be closer though I knew I shouldn't. I could smell the salt of her tears, the copper tang of blood where she'd bitten her cheek. My wolf whined, desperate to comfort her.

"I asked you a question," I said, forcing coldness into my tone.

She gathered her fury and spat near my boot. The act of defiance made my wolf surge with pride even as I maintained my impassive mask.

One of the guards moved to strike her. My hand shot up before I could stop myself, stopping the blow. "No."

I wiped Allen's blood from my blade, buying time to collect myself, to push down the territorial rage that had flared at the thought of someone harming her.

"You're braver than most of your kind," I said.

"I'm not brave," she hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm angry."

I nearly smiled then, the ghost of one pulling at my lips before I controlled it. "Good," I said, meaning it. "Anger keeps you alive."

She lifted her head enough to meet my gaze, and the contact sent a jolt through my body. Her eyes were unlike any I'd seen – fierce despite her grief, burning with intelligence and hatred. They reminded me of my mother's eyes in her final days, defiant even in death.

"I should kill you," I said, the words a test for the watching spies.

"Then do it," she whispered. "Do it, you coward. Or are you afraid of a slave's curse?"

I leaned closer, unable to help myself, drawn to her like gravity. "I'm not afraid of curses," I said quietly, my words for her alone. "But I don't like wasting tools. Especially ones with spirit."

Confusion flashed across her face, grief momentarily eclipsed by uncertainty.

"Take her to the mines," I said. It was to protect her. It was for her own good.

Her head snapped up. "What?" Her voice cracked. "No! I'm not going— I am a woman!"

I turned to face her fully, not out of sympathy, but because I wanted to see what she’d do with the last of her defiance.

"An angry woman," I said with a low chuckle. "Expend that useless energy somewhere useful."

She looked like she’d been slapped.

Good. Pain clarified things. Burned away illusions. Father's spies wouldn't let her wild tongue go unpunished. But I was certain she wouldn't be killed. Not with the ceremony that was swiftly approaching.

"Wait—" she started, voice trembling.

But the guards didn’t wait. They moved fast and without kindness, dragging her away like refuse.

For a second, her eyes met mine again.

And I hesitated.

Not enough to stop it. Not enough to matter.

But enough to cement her face at the edges of my memory.

Then I immediately started to walk away, afraid that if I looked back, everyone would see the truth written plainly on my face.

I was sorry. I was going to make this right somehow.

But not here. Not with my father's eyes watching. Not with Allen's blood still warm on the execution block.

I climbed the steps back to the platform, my posture rigid, my face a perfect mask. Commander Vryk nodded in approval. The execution had satisfied him. The show of brutality had been convincing.

Only I knew that with each step away from her, my wolf howled in despair, tearing at my insides. Only I felt the invisible thread now connecting us, pulling taut with distance.

I had found my mate in the most impossible circumstances, in the one person who would despise me more than any other.

If I couldn’t save her now… I would find another way.