The Lycan King’s pack had suffered a crushing defeat, forced to offer tribute of wealth and women to appease their enemies.

The Alpha of the rival pack gripped my waist, sneering that women from our pack were as fragile as kittens, their tears weak and pitiful.

He didn’t know that even a kitten could rip out a throat when pushed to its limits.

---

After weeks of travel, the delegation sent to negotiate peace finally arrived at the territory of the rival pack.

The women, torn from their homes and families, wept bitterly, their cries echoing through the forest.

A young girl beside me clung to my sleeve, tears streaming down her face. “Antonella,” she whimpered, “aren’t you afraid?”

In the distance, the sound of approaching wolves reached my ears. I stared at the figure leading the pack, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Of course I am.”

Afraid that I wouldn’t kill enough to avenge my mate.

The pack stopped before us, Apollo Duncan, the Lycan King, at the forefront. His aura was overwhelming, a force of nature that demanded submission.

“These are the women from the Elysian Pack?” he asked, his voice cold and indifferent.

“Yes, King. Many didn’t survive the journey. There are ninety-six left.”

Apollo nodded dismissively, as if the lives of these women mattered less than the livestock in his territory. “Let the warriors choose. Whoever they want can be taken to their dens.”

He turned to leave, but then paused, his sharp gaze locking onto me.

I was dressed in tattered clothes, my body marked with fresh welts and bruises. My hands, rough and cracked, reached out and grasped the hem of his jacket.

The guards shouted, raising their whips, but I didn’t flinch. I only tightened my grip, my eyes pleading.

Apollo unsheathed his claws, tilting my chin up with their sharp, bloodstained tips. “What do you want?”

I tilted my head back, exposing my neck to his predatory gaze. “You’re injured, King. You’re bleeding.”

He glanced at the deep cut on his arm, and I took the opportunity to crawl closer, my voice soft and soothing. “Let me tend to your wound.”

He studied me for a moment before retracting his claws and mounting his wolf. “Follow me.”

Apollo’s den was the largest in the territory, its floor covered in thick furs.

I knelt beside him, carefully cleaning his wound with a soft cloth. “This might hurt, King,” I whispered.

He remained silent, his piercing eyes watching my every move.

I pretended not to notice, focusing on wrapping the bandage around his arm, my hair brushing against his skin as I leaned in.

“It’s done,” I said, offering a small smile.

In an instant, his hand was around my throat, squeezing with brutal force.

“Are you a spy sent by the Elysian Pack?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

I clawed at his hand, but it was like trying to move a mountain. I shook my head desperately, tears streaming down my cheeks.

The pressure on my neck increased, my vision blurring as I struggled to breathe. Finally, he released me, and I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. “I’m not a spy,” I choked out. “I just want to survive.”

He grabbed my hand, inspecting it for calluses or signs of training. Finding none, he stood and called to a guard outside. “Take her to clean up.”

A female wolf led me to a nearby stream, where I submerged myself in the icy water. I stared at my reflection, memories flooding back.

The pack’s healer had once told me no wolf could resist my scent.

I had been a celebrated healer, brought to the Alpha of the Silverfang Pack.

But before he could claim me, his mate stormed in, beating me and leaving me for dead in the snow.

I had been freezing, on the verge of death, when someone found me. “Miss, wake up. Where’s your pack? Let me take you there.”

I had clung to his warmth, murmuring, “I have no pack,” before losing consciousness.

When I woke, it was to the gentle face of Andre Hansen, a healer from the Elysian Pack.

“Who are you?” I had asked.

He smiled softly. “I’m Andre.”

Andre, the kind, the good—my mate had been everything beautiful in this world.

The female wolf shouted from the shore, pulling me from my thoughts. I wiped away my tears, my heart heavy.

Andre, I’m about to betray you. Will you forgive me?

The pack Alpha’s office was warm, the faint crackle of the fireplace the only sound in the room. Apollo lounged on the couch, eyes closed, but the moment he heard my footsteps, his eyes snapped open, sharp and alert. The air was heavy with his Alpha aura, a suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe.

I knelt before him, my head bowed. “Alpha,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He reached out, his calloused hand rough against my cheek as I leaned into his touch. His hands were nothing like Andre’s—soft, gentle, the hands of a healer. Apollo’s were hardened, bearing the marks of a warrior who had clawed his way to the top.

“Your eyes are red,” he said, his tone unreadable.

I met his dark gaze, my heart tightening in my chest. “I’m afraid,” I admitted softly.

He smirked, a cruel twist of his lips. “You didn’t seem afraid when you grabbed my jacket in front of everyone. That took guts.”

“That was about survival,” I said, cautiously placing my hand over his. “This is different. Please, Alpha, be kind.”

In an instant, I was pulled onto the couch, his massive frame pinning me down. His breath was hot against my ear, his presence overwhelming. I felt like prey caught in the grip of a predator, helpless against his strength.

The night was relentless, his dominance crushing me in every way—physically, emotionally. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to endure it. Apollo didn’t care about my pain; he took what he wanted without hesitation. When it was finally over, I was left trembling, clutching the blanket around me as he leaned back, his expression cold and detached.

He ran a rough thumb over the corner of my eye, his smirk returning. “Humans are so fragile. The men are cowards, and the women are weak.”

Anger flared in my chest, but I forced myself to stay still, my hands clenched beneath the pillow. No, my mate had been anything but a coward. He had stood his ground until the very end, refusing to bow to Apollo’s kind. How dare he mock him!

I wanted to scream, to lash out and make him pay for what he’d done to Andre. But I stayed silent, my mind racing with thoughts of revenge.

Apollo fell asleep soon after, his breathing steady. Exhausted as I was, sleep eluded me. I slipped on a robe and stepped outside, the cold night air biting at my skin. The guards watched me warily, but I ignored them, sitting on a nearby hill to watch the sunrise.

I had spent most of my life in the shadows, my days and nights reversed. The first time I had seen the sunrise was with Andre. It had been New Year’s Eve, and after dinner, he had taken me to a hill overlooking the city.

“It’s too cold,” I had protested, huddled by the fireplace.

He had brought me a coat, his voice soft and coaxing. “You’ll be warm in this.”

The coat wasn’t anything special, but it had made me smile. I had relented, letting him lead me to the hill where we stood, breathless from the climb, looking out over the city.

As the clock struck midnight, the sky filled with lanterns—thousands of them, glowing like stars. I had been mesmerized, but then Andre had handed me one. “Make a wish,” he said.

I had hesitated. “I don’t have any wishes.”

“Everyone has wishes.”

“I grew up in a rogue pack,” I had said, my voice quiet. “I’ve seen too much to believe in wishes. People are here one moment and gone the next. I’m not someone with a future.”

Andre had been silent for a long time before taking the lantern from me. With a solemn expression, he had written on it: *May Antonella, through my life’s work of healing, find peace and safety, free from suffering, blessed with fortune.*

He had wanted to give me everything—his life’s work, his kindness, his hope. As the lantern floated into the sky, I had felt tears in my eyes. “You’re such a fool,” I had whispered.

That night, I had told him everything—my fears, my pain, my past. He had listened, his presence a steady comfort. When the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, he had brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Antonella,” he had said, “a new year has begun. From now on, everything will be better.”

The memory was sharp in my mind as I sat on the hill, the first rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds. By the time I returned to the office, Apollo was awake, leaning against the headboard. “What were you doing?” he asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

I finished sewing the last stitch on the armband I had been repairing and bit off the thread. “Your armband was torn.”

The room was quiet, the only sound the faint chirping of crickets outside. After a long pause, he spoke again. “You were mated before?”

I had planned for this. Last night, I hadn’t hidden it from him, and now was the perfect time to bring it up. “No,” I lied.

“Humans are so strict about their rules. You’re not a virgin, but you’ve never been mated.”

“On the way here, one of the rogues forced himself on me,” I said, lowering my eyes, letting a hint of vulnerability show. “You must have seen the cuts on my legs.”

Apollo’s expression didn’t change, but when he left, he took the armband from my hands. “You can deal with them,” he said before walking out.