""Kira!"

A voice called from outside her room, followed by an urgent knock.

Kira groaned, burying her head deeper under the pillow as if that could make the intruder disappear. "Can't a girl get five minutes of sleep?" she grumbled.

"Get up," Ms Beatrice's voice came through the door, firmer and clearly annoyed. "Did you forget what day it is today?"

Fuck whatever day it is, Kira thought. She didn't care if the world was ending; she wanted to sleep for a century. But the next words from the head omega acted like a bucket of ice water.

"If you aren't out of that room in two minutes, I'm reporting you to your father, you stubborn child."

Kira bolted upright, the fog of sleep vanishing instantly. "I'm up! I'm up!" she yelled back, tossing the blanket aside.

"Better for you," the head omega muttered before her footsteps faded down the corridor.

Kira sat there for a moment, listening until the sound disappeared, then let out a long sigh and swung her legs off the bed.

She couldn't stand the thought of the crowded, gossipy communal bathrooms used by the omegas, so she grabbed her soap bag and slipped out toward the river. It was still dawn; the path should be empty.

The cool morning air brushed her skin as she reached the water's edge. She stripped quickly and waded in, letting the cold current wake her fully. After a quick swim, she dressed again, wringing water from her hair.

A low growl rumbled behind her.

Kira's head snapped around, but she saw nothing. Heart hammering, she gathered her things and turned to head back, only to freeze. A giant black wolf with burning red eyes stood barely ten feet away. It bared its fangs, lips curled in a menacing snarl.

Oh, Goddess. I'm dead meat, Kira thought, her blood running cold. What a terrible day to be wolfless.

She had heard stories of rogues prowling near the river, but she had never come face to face with one. Until now.

The wolf lowered its body, muscles coiled, ready to spring. If I'm going to die, I'm going to make him work for it. She spun on her heel and sprinted.

The rogue was right behind her, its heavy paws thudding against the earth and its hot breath almost touching her heels. She didn't make it far, as her foot caught on a stray root, and she went down hard, face-first into the dirt.

Adrenaline forced her to roll over, her eyes wide as the black mass lunged at her. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for teeth and pain.

It never came.

Instead, she heard crashing bodies and furious snarling. She peeked one eye open. A man and the wolf were tumbling across the grass in a blur of fur and limbs.

Her eyes flew open. Too shaken to run, she sat frozen, watching. After a few brutal moments, the struggling stopped. Kira's heart sank. She was sure the man was dead and scrambled to her feet, but the man shoved the limp carcass of the rogue aside with a grunt and slowly rose.

She froze again. He was huge—easily the tallest, most powerfully built man she had ever seen. Handsome in a sharp, dangerous way that made her stomach flip.

She couldn't stop staring as he wiped a smear of blood and dirt from his jaw, his ripped shirt hanging off broad shoulders, muscles flexing when he ran a hand through his thick brown hair.

Then his eyes locked on hers. Amber-gold, so piercing.

Wait, what am I doing? Kira chided herself, realizing she was practically drooling over a stranger.

She had never seen him before. Who was he? A rogue? An enemy alpha? Or worse… a Lycan? The last thought sent a cold shiver down her spine.

"Thank you," she said, her voice small and trembling. "My name is Ki—"

The man turned his broad back to her without a word and bolted into the woods. Kira stared after him, her nose scrunched in confusion.

"Well, was he born that rude, or did he have to practice?" she muttered to the empty trees.

By the time she reached the packhouse, the place was was already buzzing with activity. It was Chloe's eighteenth birthday—the 'Golden Daughter' who had shifted for the first time last night.

Her father had been practically weeping with joy, mostly because Kira had failed to shift on her own eighteenth birthday, a disappointment he never let her forget.

She made her way toward the remote corner of the grounds where her father kept her isolated, claiming she was too wild and unruly to be trusted with pack matters.

Most pack members didn't even know she was his daughter; they all thought Chloe was his only daughter and heir.

"Kira!" Ms Beatrice's sharp voice cut through her thoughts as the woman marched toward her. "Where on earth have you been? Your father is fuming. Report to his office. Now!"

Kira barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So much for my near-death experience.

She changed direction and headed toward the main house.

As she hurried down the long hallways of the pack house, snippets of whispered conversation drifted to her from a cluster of omegas gossiping near the laundry room.

"…heard he's coming to take a bride from our pack," one said in a hushed tone.

"I wonder which poor girl he'll pick," another replied.

"I heard he has already asked Alpha to hand over Miss Chloe. He threatened war if Alpha doesn't agree. He wants the heir."

The others gasped. "But why?"

Kira hurried away from the gossiping omegas, wondering who "he" was and why he wanted Chloe.

When she reached her father's study, she knocked once and pushed the door open. Her father stood behind his wide oak desk, talking in low tones with his head gamma.

Her stepmother Lydia and stepsister Chloe sat on the twin couch. Chloe's eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her head resting on her mother's chest while Lydia stroked her hair.

Oh, why is the golden daughter ruining her face on her birthday? Kira thought. Wait! she's being shipped off to marry someone who isn't her mate. Sorry, sister. One of the perks of being the heir.

No one even looked at her.

"Make sure everyone stays in line," her father was saying, his voice low and tight. "We cannot risk provoking King Derek Wolfe, not now."

King Derek Wolfe? Kira's stomach dropped. The formidable Lycan King feared across every pack. His visits to werewolf territory rarely ended well. He had terrorised the packs for years just to remain on top. Had he been the one demanding Chloe's hand and threatening war? Now she was mad.

"Yes, Alpha," the gamma said and bowed deeply.

"You may leave," her father ordered.

The gamma bowed again and slipped past Kira, closing the door softly behind him. Only then did her father's eyes lift to her. They were cold, flat and empty of any warmth.

Kira dipped into a slow, careful bow. "You requested my presence."

Luna Lydia stood up, pulling Chloe with her. As they brushed past, Lydia went out of her way to shove her shoulder into Kira's. Kira gritted her teeth, closing her eyesto rein in her anger.

Not today, Satan. Not today.

Different questions burned on her tongue as she faced her father again, but she swallowed them all, knowing he would never indulge her.

Dark shadows lay beneath his eyes; he had clearly not slept all night. Deep lines of worry creased his forehead. She knew why. Chloe was his treasure, the chosen heir. The thought of losing her to a ruthless man was tearing him apart.

He stepped out from behind the desk, hands clasped behind his back.

"There has been a development," he said, tone deceptively calm. "King Derek Wolfe arrives tomorrow. He has demanded a bride in exchange for continued peace."

He paused, meeting her gaze without a flicker of regret. "You will be his bride."

...

"What?!" Kira burst out before she could stop the word from escaping. Over her dead body.

Her father met her outburst with a flat, emotionless stare. "It is not a topic for discussion."

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. He had already stripped her of everything—her birthright, her freedom, her place in the pack. But this? Her right to choose who she loved, who she shared her life with, belonged to her alone. It had to.

"I refuse it," she said through clenched teeth. "I know the King wants your heir, and I am not that heir. If you force me, I will tell him you are only deceiving him."

Fury flashed in his eyes like lightning. He closed the distance between them in one swift motion and struck her with the back of his hand.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as her teeth sliced into the side of her tongue.

"You dare defy me?" he snarled. "Your father and your Alpha? For twenty years, I have suffered the affliction of your existence. I will suffer no more."

The words cut deeper than any slap ever could. To him, she wasn't a daughter; she was a mistake to be tolerated. The one who killed her mother.

She wanted to scream that she hadn't asked to be born, hadn't asked for her mother to die bringing her into the world. But she didn't get the chance.

"Gammas!" Rolf barked.

Two of them swept into the room, muscles tense and ready for his command.

"Take her to the dungeons," Rolf commanded, turning his back on her as if she were already gone.

"What? No! Why?" Kira's voice rose in a frantic pitch as the gammas seized her arms.

They dragged her through the corridors like a common criminal while the pack watched in silence. Her father followed at a calm, unhurried pace.

Once they reached the cold stone cells beneath the pack house, he ordered the gammas to bind her face down to a rough wooden bench. Then he calmly took a long leather whip from the wall.

"You will marry the King," he said. His voice was unsettlingly gentle, as if he were merely asking her to pass the salt.

"I will not marry him," she answered, holding on to her defiance with everything she had left.

The whip cracked across her back. Pain exploded through her body, and she cried out. Yet her father simply repeated the same words, and she forced out her own in reply: "I will not marry him."

It became a silent battle of wills, his against hers. She refused to let him take the last thing she still owned without a fight. By the tenth lash, she was sobbing openly, tears streaming down her face, but she would not break. Her back felt as though it were on fire.

By the fifteenth lash, her whole body shook uncontrollably, and warm blood soaked through her dress.

Perhaps death would be kinder than giving in. All her life, she had dreamed of finding a true mate, someone who would love her the way she had never been loved as a child.

She had never imagined being forced into an arranged marriage. It was so bitterly unfair.

On the twentieth lash, her voice cracked, barely more than a whisper through tears and exhaustion.

"What is so difficult to obey?" her father hissed, frustration sharpening his tone.

He raised the whip again, clearly prepared to continue until she either agreed or stopped breathing. In that moment, something inside her gave way.

"I will marry him," she whispered, the words so faint they were almost lost in the damp air of the cell.

He let the whip fall to the floor with a dull thud.

"Shouldn't have taken you this long," he snarled. "Now listen. You are my heir, and you are not forced into this. You understand the price for peace, and you are willing to pay it for your people. Do you understand?"

She nodded, sniffing back fresh tears.

He turned and walked out of the cell without another look. She heard his voice through the bars, speaking to the gammas outside.

"Get some female omegas to take her out of here. Get the pack doctor to fix her up. I need her to be in good shape until King Derek Wolfe arrives tomorrow. And keep a strict eye on the wildcat. I do not want her missing before her marriage tomorrow."

"Yes, Alpha," one of the gammas answered.

The cell gate squeaked open as her father's footsteps faded down the corridor. Pain and exhaustion finally pulled her under, and Kira drifted into darkness.

***

The next day…

"This is unacceptable," Jessica, her best friend fumed, her voice trembling with anger as she helped an omega carefully fastened the delicate beige lace gown around Kira's body.

The dress was beautiful, too beautiful, for a marriage she wasn't happy about.

Kira said nothing. There was nothing left to say and nothing she could do. She could only stand there, letting the anger and misery swirl inside her like dark water.

"What about your education?" Jessica pressed on. "You are a straight-A student at The Central. Are you really going to give all that up?"

Kira let out a long, tired sigh. "I am sure I would not," she muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.

"How can you be sure?" Jessica's voice shook. "Kira, we are talking about King Derek Wolfe of Dravengard. He is a monster. He has hated werewolves for the longest time. All Lycans…"

"…prefer humans over us and treat us with suspicion," Kira finished for her friend. "I know, Jess. But what can I do?"

Tears gathered in Jessica's eyes and spilt over. She knew exactly how much Kira had always dreamed of finding her true mate, of falling in love with someone who would cherish her, protect her, see her for the kind, strong soul she truly was.

Kira might carry the Alpha's blood, but only a handful of people in the pack even knew it. To most, she was just the girl who never shifted at eighteen, the one they bullied and mocked without mercy.

Jessica had always cheered for her friend to get every happiness she deserved.

And now this? Forced into a marriage with a man who saw werewolves as little more than dirt beneath his boots?

She wished with everything in her that she could stop it, could grab Kira's hand and run far away. But when two powerful men had decided to use Kira as their pawn, what chance did anyone else have? Fear twisted in Jessica's stomach. What horrors waited for her friend in the Lycan territories?

A sharp knock sounded at the door. Luna Lydia swept inside, her eyes narrowing into slits as they landed on Kira. Jessica rose quickly and bowed low, but Kira stayed exactly where she was, lifting her chin and glaring straight back at the Luna.

"The King is here," Luna Lydia announced coldly. "Make sure you do not disgrace your father in that room. I hope the Lycans clip those wild wings of yours."

She flicked her fingers toward the omegas who had followed her in. "Bring her."

The walk to the grand hall felt like a march to the gallows. Every step made the wounds on her back flare with pain, the lace of the dress rubbing against the raw welts. She was going to die so young in a foreign land, she was sure of it.

Ever since the death of their former king, King Maurice, who had tried so hard to bring werewolves and Lycans together, the Lycans had turned colder than ever.

Suspicion had replaced trust. Hatred had grown deep roots. They barely tolerated werewolves, even at Aethelwulf Centralis University, the one place that was supposed to be neutral ground.

When the gammas finally pushed open the heavy double doors, Luna Lydia let out loud, dramatic sobs that scraped against Kira's already raw nerves. She wanted to grab the woman by her perfect hair and scream "liar" right in her face, but she held herself still. Too much was at stake.

Then, her eyes adjusted to the figures sitting in the opposite side of the room. Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart stopped, then restarted with a violent thud.

It was him.

The towering stranger from the riverbank. The man who had saved her life from the rogue and then vanished into the shadows. The man who had haunted her dreams for the last twenty-four hours.

That man is King Derek Wolfe?

Kira's head spun. Someone, please... wake me up.

...

How is this even possible?

Kira wondered as she walked into her father's huge living room, her eyes still on the Lycan King.

Most werewolves, especially the younger ones like her, had never seen a photo of King Derek Wolfe. Rumours, yes. Terrifying stories, definitely. But never his actual face. And yet here he was, the same terrifying man who had saved her from the rogue last night. Had he already been scouting their territory before he even sent word that he was coming?

This man was something else.

The moment the double doors opened, Derek's long fingers stopped their slow, impatient tapping on the arm of the leather chair. He watched as Rolf's Luna entered sobbing dramatically, followed by nervous omegas. But Derek only had eyes for the girl in the middle. He noticed three things about her instantly.

First, she was the girl from the river. Second, she was indeed as beautiful as the reports had said—wavy brunette hair, Hazel eyes and soft rosy lips. Third, she didn't smell like a wolf, only the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood.

No wolf? His eyes narrowed. How was the heir of Moonfang supposed to rule without one?

Then, a dark satisfaction settled in his gut. This made his plan even better. He didn't need a seer to know that Rolf Thornclaw would have wanted a powerful werewolf son-in-law to bolster his legacy.

By taking away his "heir apparent," Derek wasn't just hurting Rolf emotionally; he was leaving the pack vulnerable to every rival Alpha looking for a weakness. It was the perfect opening move in a war Rolf didn't even know he was losing. Derek had sworn a long time ago to crush Rolf.

Something still felt off. Why had she been alone by the river on her own birthday? Had she been upset about not finding her wolf on her birthday? And why the blood scent beneath her skin? Something smelled distinctly fishy.

"Your Majesty," Rolf said quickly, pulling Derek out of his thoughts. "This is my daughter, Chloe Thornclaw. The bride you asked for," he lied.

Derek let his gaze slide slowly to the girl beside her father. She wasn't crying or trembling like the others. In fact, she was glaring at him with enough heat to melt the polar ice caps. Normally, he found defiance an invitation to violence, but looking at her now, he felt a strange urge to smirk.

Let her glare. She belongs to me now, whether or not she likes it.

Rolf gave Kira a sharp nudge, silently ordering her to show respect, but she remained as still as a statue, her chin held high. Inside, Rolf was screaming. If this idiot girl ruined everything now, he would kill her before the Lycans could.

But Kira did something even more dangerous. She opened her mouth, nearly sending her father into cardiac arrest. He thought the girl was about to spill the truth.

"I would like to have a word with my husband-to-be," Kira said clearly. She didn't look at her father, who was glaring at her. She kept her eyes on Derek. "In private."

Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she thought they might crack. This was the ruthless king from the nightmare stories, yet she had to know — why on earth was he destroying her life like this? It was the twenty-first century. Who forces arranged marriages anymore? Apparently, this cold bastard did.

Rolf's face went a sickly shade of grey. "Have you lost your mind, girl?" he hissed in her ear, his fingers digging painfully into her arm. He turned to Derek with a fake, shaky smile. "Forgive her, Your Majesty. She's just overwhelmed. This is a lot for a young girl. Let me just… talk some sense into her outside."

"No need," Derek's voice cut through the room. It was deep, smooth, and colder than a winter grave. He watched Rolf's attempts to drag her away with a look of bored disdain. "If she wants to speak, I'll listen. Alone."

Declan, his beta, pulled closer to him and leaned towards his ear. "Are you serious right now, Derek? This could be a trap."

Derek didn't look away from Kira. "No, Declan." He raised a hand to stop his Beta. "I can handle a little wolf-princess. Everyone out. Now."

The room cleared out in a blur of hushed whispers and shuffling feet. Both Lycans and werewolves alike rose without a word, some glancing curiously, others avoiding eye contact altogether, until only heavy silence remained. Kira stood her ground, refusing to shrink under the king's intense stare.

She quickly crossed her arms over her chest like a shield, partly to look tough, but mostly to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. Up close, he was even more intimidating: tall, broad, and radiating danger in a way that made the air feel thicker. He didn't just take up space; he owned it.

For a split second, Kira wondered if she had overplayed her hand. Despite her racing heart, she lifted her chin. She was Kira. She had survived worse than a cold stare. She could handle him.

Derek didn't move. He lounged back in the chair like a big cat watching his next meal, waiting for the door to click shut.

Kira cleared her throat, trying to sound firm and commanding, but when she finally spoke, her voice came out in a tiny, annoying squeak. "I'll start by letting you know that I'm not scared of you."

"You're not?" Derek asked in a deep, husky voice that sent an involuntary shiver racing down her spine. He didn't look convinced as he pinned her with those glowing amber eyes.

She knew he could probably hear her heart racing from across the room. Her blood was roaring in her ears.

"Because it definitely doesn't feel that way to me." He leaned forward, his gaze raking over her lace-covered body.

"You have a very... interesting scent, 'Chloe'," he said, mocking her name. "Why do I perceive the smell of blood on my bride?"