Chapter 6

Japel

I had always wondered if the rumors were true—if the Moon Goddess had cursed me by denying me a mate. Even when I tried to marry someone who was not mine, the absence of the bond left me hollow, so I stopped trying.

I was on my way back from the office, passing through Duskhaven territory, when the scent hit me. My wolf surged forward, slamming against my ribs.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

It chanted the word like a mantra, frantic and relentless.

“Stop the car,” I ordered my beta.

Rex slowed the vehicle and looked at me with narrowed eyes.

I stared out the window, pulse already racing. “How is my mate in Duskhaven territory?” I said in a low voice.

Rex’s mouth dropped open. “Mate?”

“Turn the car around.”

We entered Duskhaven. The streets were nearly empty, as if the entire pack had gathered elsewhere for some occasion. Then my wolf slammed harder into my ribs—so hard I nearly jerked in my seat.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

I threw the door open and followed the scent on foot. It led me straight to the execution ground. With every step her scent grew stronger, and my wolf’s restlessness became almost unbearable. Her heartbeat, faint but unmistakable, pulled me forward.

My wolf forced the words from my throat before I could even get the chance to.

“Nobody dare touch my Luna.”

The doors groaned open. I walked into the execution grounds of the rival pack and claimed her in the very place meant to kill her. A few minutes later I left with my mate, who looked as if she had just endured something worse than hell. The heat of it still radiated through me.

—

The steady, rhythmic tap of my shoes against the marble floor was the only sound echoing through the expansive quiet of the east wing suite.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass panel, a crystal glass of dark amber liquor resting loosely in my hand, watching the heavy winter fog roll across the jagged, snow-dusted peaks of the Grimstone mountain range. But my focus wasn’t on the landscape or the changing weather. My heightened senses were locked completely onto the woman asleep in the massive, fur-lined bed behind me.

Even in deep rest, her breathing was short, alert, and strictly calculated—the hardwired habit of a wild animal raised in a hostile cage of wolves who viewed her existence as an inconvenience.

A heavy wool throw shifted on the mattress. A split second later, Mira sat bolt upright, her dark eyes snapping open with absolute clarity, her right hand instinctively reaching toward her hip for a blade that wasn’t there. There was no waking confusion, no frightened gasps, and no tears. Just pure, immediate survival instinct kicking into overdrive.

“You react like someone who expects a blade in the dark,” I said, keeping my tone smooth and even as I gently swirled the amber liquid in my glass.

“In Duskhaven, that was a daily possibility,” her voice came back, surprisingly steady. It was raspy from sleep, but laced with an underlying, unbreakable edge of iron.

She swung her bare legs over the side of the mattress, stepping onto the cold stone floor with quiet, barefoot confidence. Gone was the pale, fragile, exhausted look of the female I had carried up the grand staircase the night before. That vulnerability had burned away entirely, replaced by a dense, circulating hum of raw power vibrating just beneath her skin.

I turned away from the window, setting my glass down on the corner of the heavy mahogany desk. My gaze swept over her, evaluating every minor posture shift and the way her weight balanced evenly on her feet.

“Your vitals normalized two hours ago,” I told her, taking a slow step toward the bed. “My royal healer checked your pulse while you slept. Your wolf didn’t just awaken last night, Mira—she violently tore through an artificial, heavy-grade seal that had been placed directly over your bloodline.”

Her dark eyes narrowed instantly, sharp and cold as cut glass. “A seal?”

“You were never barren or inherently wolfless,” I said flatly, keeping my voice low. “Your wolf was systematically suppressed using low doses of dark silver toxins—administered to you steadily over years. Someone inside that pack ensured you would stay weak, submissive, and entirely reliant on Duskhaven’s cruel goodwill.”

A heavy, lethal stillness settled in the space between us. I watched the grim realization dawn behind her dark eyes—the sudden, brutal clarity of a woman connecting the dots of two years of unexplained weakness, chronic pain, and systematic poisoning.

She didn’t break down. She didn’t curse the heavens or cry about the sheer cruelty of it. Instead, a quiet, bitterly amused smile touched the corners of her lips.

“They thought they were keeping me chained to a floor I couldn’t leave,” she murmured, her voice dropping into a dark register that made my own inner wolf pace with fierce satisfaction deep in my chest.

“They failed,” I replied, pulling a sleek black encrypted tablet from the desk and stepping closer to hand it to her. “And now, the collapse of their little empire begins.”

She took the device from my hand, her fingers brushing lightly against mine. A low, crackling spark of static flared along the gray-gold mark glowing on her wrist, but her eyes were already scanning the intelligence feed filling the screen.

The covert, high-definition recording of yesterday’s confrontation at the Duskhaven execution square had torn through every major wolf network on the continent overnight. It was gloriously, mercilessly brutal. The footage captured the exact second an unmarked, unranked female stepped up to an Alpha, delivered a formal, devastating rejection, forced him to his knees under the crushing strain of the broken bond, and revealed a brilliant silver aura as she was claimed by the Lycan King.

The headlines flashing across the secure network were ruthless:

DUSKHAVEN ALPHA DEFEATED IN OWN COUNCIL BY UNMARKED OMEGA

LYCAN KING CLAIMS REJECTED LUNA AS QUEEN

PACK STOCK AND ALLIANCES COLLAPSE FOLLOWING PUBLIC DISGRACE

With a sharp motion of her thumb, she swiped to the encrypted message log. Thirty-four missed calls from Zane’s personal registry. Dozens of frantic, enraged texts flooded the screen from his private number:

Mira, pick up the damn phone right now. You think playing games with the Lycan King makes you safe? You belong to Duskhaven. Undo the public statement immediately or I will declare open war on your entire lineage.

A dark, genuine laugh escaped her throat—a sound of pure, icy triumph that echoed off the high stone walls.

“He’s losing his mind,” she said, looking up to meet my gaze directly.

“He’s losing his territory,” I corrected smoothly, closing the small distance between us until I could feel the residual heat radiating off her newly awakened skin. “Duskhaven’s allied packs are pulling their security contracts and trade agreements as we speak. An Alpha who gets publicly rejected by his own mate—and then easily dominated by a Lycan—is seen as weak meat in the political landscape.”

“He will come here,” she said, her silver-tinted irises flashing sharply in the dim morning light. “Or he will try to strike from the shadows. Zane is far too arrogant to accept this kind of public humiliation quietly.”

“Let him try,” I growled, letting my own Lycan aura flare in a brief, heavy wave that rattled the glass windowpanes behind us. “Grimstone’s borders are a graveyard for arrogant boys who don’t know their place. But the real question, Mira… is what do you want to do with him?”

Honestly, I expected her to ask me to deploy my military forces to wipe Duskhaven off the map. I expected her to ask for immediate vengeance and total protection.

Instead, she took a deliberate, fearless step forward, her chest almost touching mine, her chin lifted high as she stared straight into my eyes without a single shred of hesitation.

“I don’t want you to execute him for me, Japel,” she said, her voice clear, deadly, and vibrating with absolute steel. “I want to dismantle his territory piece by piece. I want to take his pack, his financial status, and his pride until he has nothing left—and then I will break him with my own hands.”

My wolf howled in absolute, roaring approval deep within my ribcage.

A slow, dangerous grin spread across my face, exposing the sharp tips of my fangs as I looked down at the woman who was going to help me burn the old, corrupt power structures of the continent to the ground.

“A true Lycan Queen,” I murmured, holding her fierce gaze. “Get ready, Mira. From today onward, you will learn what it truly means to rule.”