My Family Chose Her, I Chose the Lycan King

I walked out of the airport doors, the automatic glass sliding shut behind me. The noise of the terminal faded, replaced by the roar of taxi engines.

Then, I saw them.

Three familiar figures stood waiting by the curb. My stomach tightened instantly. Seeing them brought nothing but a wave of profound displeasure. I was only back in this city for my grandfather Harold Beaumont’s birthday dinner. I had been living in Europe for three years, and I had no intention of staying a minute longer than necessary.

"You're finally back," my older brother, Vincent Beaumont, said. He crossed his arms, his broad shoulders blocking my path to the street.

I adjusted the strap of my bag. "No, I'm flying to Paris tomorrow morning."

Damian Sinclair stepped out from behind Vincent. My fiancé. The man the Moon Goddess supposedly chose for me. He looked at me with the same condescending frown he wore the day I left.

"Are you still mad at us and Rosalie Hart?" Damian asked, his tone heavy with judgment. "She's an orphan wolf, we should be understanding. I didn't expect you to still be immature after three years."

"Immature?" I laughed. The sound was sharp, completely devoid of humor.

Vincent frowned at the noise.

"Is that what you call it?" I asked, staring Damian right in the eyes.

Three years ago, my departure was fueled by an all-out war over Rosalie. It happened at the pack banquet. Rosalie had paraded into the grand hall wearing ruined, dirty clothes. She stood in front of the entire pack, pointed a trembling finger at me, and publicly accused me of bullying her.

I had tried to explain. I tried to tell them she was lying. But not a single person stood by my side.

My own parents, Edward and Catherine Beaumont, turned their backs on me. My brother Vincent shook his head in disgust. My fiancé Damian called me a monster. Even my best friend, Leon Foster, treated me like a criminal.

They all accused me of tormenting the poor, helpless orphan. To teach me a lesson, my parents forcefully dragged me down to the basement and locked me in the confinement room for the entire night. They did it fully knowing I suffered from severe claustrophobia.

Leon Foster stepped forward now, pulling my mind back to the present. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw set stubbornly.

"You're not leaving, Celeste," Leon demanded. "You must apologize for your mistakes three years ago. Rosalie is hiding in her room terrified because you're back. She's still scared of you bullying her."

I looked at Leon. The boy who used to share his secrets with me now looked at me like I was a villain in a storybook.

"Tell Rosalie to stay in her room," I replied, my voice dropping to a flat, emotionless register. "I don't care enough about her to waste my energy."

I sidestepped the three of them and walked toward the street. A luxurious black car sat idling at the curb, exactly where I requested it. The driver stood ready by the rear door.

I reached out to get in.

Damian lunged forward. He slammed his hand against the heavy metal door, pushing it shut with a loud thud. He planted his tall frame between me and the vehicle.

"Come with me," Damian ordered, his chest puffing out with Alpha authority. "If you refuse to apologize to Rosalie, I'll reconsider our engagement. I'll forcibly break the Fated Mate bond, you know how painful that will be."

I stared at the hand he had pressed against the tinted glass. Then, I looked up at his face. He expected me to cry. He expected me to beg him not to sever our connection.

I smiled instead. A wide, mocking smile that made Vincent take a hesitant step forward.

"Didn't I already taste that pain three years ago?" I mocked, tilting my head.

Damian’s confident expression faltered.

"I felt it the exact moment you locked me in a confinement room for another lying she-wolf," I whispered, stepping closer to him until he was forced to lean back. "You can't threaten me with something you already destroyed."

I reached past him, grabbed the door handle, and yanked it open. Damian was too stunned by my reaction to fight back.

I climbed into the plush leather interior. "Drive," I told the chauffeur.

The door closed, sealing away the sight of the three men standing frozen on the sidewalk. The car pulled smoothly away from the curb.

I leaned my head back against the headrest. My phone rang inside my purse, vibrating against my leg. I pulled it out and accepted the video call.

Kael Ashcroft’s face filled the screen. His sharp features and piercing eyes were a welcome contrast to the fools I just left behind.

"You better be by my side tomorrow morning," Kael said immediately, skipping any form of greeting. "I don't want you getting tied down by your brainless family just because you went back for a visit."

"I'm on my way to the hotel now," I assured him, smoothing out the fabric of my skirt. "They tried to ambush me, but I handled it."

"Good," Kael nodded, adjusting his phone. "Plus, Aria Ashcroft misses you."

At the sound of that name, the cold armor around my heart completely dissolved.

Kael turned the camera away from his face. The video focused on a massive bed. A small, quiet figure lay sleeping under the covers, her tiny hands clutching the edge of a blanket.

I smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through my chest.

"Of course," I said softly, watching the steady rise and fall of her breathing. "I promised I'd take her to Disneyland, how could I break my word."

Kael turned the camera back to himself. "Make sure you get on that flight, Celeste."

"I will. Goodnight, Kael."

I ended the call and let the phone drop into my lap.

Never deceive your daughter. Never hurt your daughter.

That was the only absolute truth I lived by now. It was the single most important lesson Celeste Beaumont understood after becoming a mother. I would burn the entire world down before I let anyone hurt my little girl.

I looked out the window, watching the city lights blur past as we merged onto the highway. I was ready to leave this place behind forever.

Then, the driver cleared his throat.

"Miss Beaumont?" he asked, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. "We have a problem."

I turned around and looked out the back window. A heavy black SUV was swerving aggressively through the traffic, speeding up to ride directly on our bumper.