Chapter 5

Mira

The heavy dust of the shattered glass and the shockwave from my awakening were still settling over the frozen flagstones of the Duskhaven execution square when Japel extended a single, broad, calloused hand down to me.

I didn't cower. I retracted my claws, feeling the sharp, sudden sting of my newly extended fangs recede against my gums, and took his hand. His grip was warm, solid, and immovable—a stark, striking contrast to the hollow, dismissive touches I had endured for two agonizing years from Zane.

I stood up, adjusting the collar of my dark coat, and turned to look at Zane one last time.

He was trembling from head to toe. His face was entirely devoid of color, his eyes fixed with horror on the silver glow that still flickered faintly in my irises. Up above on the iron-grated balcony, Nella leaned over the railing, her face pale with shock and absolute panic as she stared down at the scene, clutching the stone balustrade so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Keep the estate, Zane,” I said, my voice carrying cleanly and effortlessly across the stunned, silent square. “You’ll need something to hide in when I come back for the rest.”

Japel didn't waste another word on the cowering Alpha or the gaping pack members. He wrapped a heavy, possessive arm around my waist and guided me out of the execution pit. The guards who had been ordered to drag me to the block backed away so fast two of them tripped over their own boots, scrambling to clear a path.

Outside the outer gates, a sleek, custom-built black Rolls-Royce waited at the foot of the stone steps, its polished hood catching the gray winter light. His Beta, Rex, held the rear door open, bowing his head deeply as we approached.

“My Queen,” Rex acknowledged, his tone entirely serious and steady.

The contrast hit me like a splash of ice water. In Duskhaven, I had been spat on, mocked, and addressed like an unwanted servant. Here, before I had even set foot in their territory, I was being treated with immediate, undeniable reverence.

I climbed into the plush leather interior of the luxury vehicle, Japel sliding in right beside me. The moment the heavy doors clicked shut with a soft, expensive thud—cutting off the noise of the gathering crowd outside—the adrenaline that had kept me standing began to flag.

My body felt impossibly heavy, every single bone aching from the sudden, violent awakening of my wolf.

Japel remained silent as the Rolls-Royce pulled away smoothly, keeping his red eyes fixed on the road ahead. But I could feel his gaze drifting to my wrist, where the grey-gold Lycan mark pulsed faintly under my skin.

“Why did you do it?” I asked, breaking the silence. My voice was raspy, the raw strain of the morning catching up to my throat. “You don't know me. You walked into an enemy territory and claimed an exiled, rejected female in front of an entire pack.”

Japel turned his head, his sharp jawline framed by the dark city lights passing outside the window.

“I didn't claim an exiled female, Mira,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling bass that vibrated through the leather seat. “I claimed my mate. My wolf recognized yours the moment we crossed the territory line. The fact that your former Alpha was too blind and weak to unlock your lineage was his mistake—and my gain.”

“I am not going to be a pawn in a territory dispute,” I warned him, leaning back against the headrest, keeping my tone firm despite my physical exhaustion. “If you think you brought home a quiet, compliant trophy to sit on a throne, you picked the wrong woman.”

A dark, genuine smirk tugged at the corner of Japel’s mouth.

“Good,” he murmured, his eyes flashing crimson for a split second. “I have plenty of subordinates who obey orders without question. I don't need a lapdog, Mira. I need a Queen who knows how to hold a blade.”

The car rolled through the massive iron gates of Grimstone Palace an hour later. The territory was vast—towering stone spires, heavily fortified walls, and an army of Lycan guards stationed along the perimeter. It looked like an unassailable fortress compared to the modest borders of Duskhaven.

Rex opened the door, and as I stepped out onto the cold stone driveway, my knees suddenly buckled. The sheer physical toll of severing a mate bond, awakening a dormant wolf, and enduring a full structural shift overwhelmed my system all at once.

Before my knees could touch the pavement, Japel caught me.

In one smooth, effortless motion, he swept me up into his arms, lifting me against his chest. I instinctively reached out, clutching the lapel of his tailored coat to steady myself.

“I can walk—” I began, my breath short.

“You’ve carried yourself far enough for one morning,” Japel cut in, his stride long and unhurried as he carried me up the grand staircase of the palace. “Save your strength for tomorrow.”

He carried me through the high-arched corridors, past rows of bowing staff and silent guards, straight into the master suite of the east wing. He laid me down gently on the massive king-sized bed, stepping back to give me space the moment I was settled.

There was no force, no crude demands, no overt sexual coercion. He treated me with an intense, calculated respect that felt entirely foreign.

“Get some rest,” Japel said, pulling a dark velvet throw over my legs. “The palace doctors will check on your vitals in the morning. Tomorrow, we begin preparing your return to Duskhaven—on your terms.”

As he turned to head toward the adjoining office, a warm, resonant voice echoed softly inside my mind—not from the room, but from within my own chest.

He’s telling the truth, you know.

I froze, my hand flying to my chest as a soft, silver-haired wolf materialized in the back of my subconscious, stretching her paws with lazy, deadly grace.

I’ve been waiting a long time to bite that bastard Zane’s throat out, my wolf whispered, her tone laced with dark amusement. Let’s get some sleep, partner. We have a kingdom to burn.