Damian's shock turned into a snarl.

"You think you can walk away?" He stepped forward, claws extending. "You are mine!"

He reached for me.

'The rain seemed to stop.'

The air became dense, heavy with power.

A low hum resonated through the ground.

Damian froze. His hand hovered. 'Pupils dilated in primal terror.'

'Lycan.'

A convoy of five matte-black SUVs smashed through the gate barrier like it was matchsticks.

The lead car, bearing the golden crest of the Morrison Royal Family, screeched to a halt.

Twelve Royal Guards poured out. Giants. Assault rifles lowered, eyes glowing.

The back door opened.

'A man stepped out.'

Shoulders broad enough to carry the world. Bespoke black suit. Eyes of molten gold.

Anderson Morrison. The Lycan King.

He didn't run. He walked. 'Every step sent a pulse of dominance through the lot.'

Damian dropped to his knees. Not by choice. The sheer weight of Anderson's presence forced him down.

Anderson stopped in front of me. The terrifying aura vanished, replaced by warmth.

He looked at my dress. My burned hand. Keith on the ground.

Finally, he looked at Damian.

"You," Anderson said. 'Voice quiet, but carrying the force of a tectonic plate.' "You touched what belongs to the Crown."

Damian trembled. "Your Majesty... I didn't know... She's just a servant..."

Anderson draped his heavy coat over my shoulders. 'It smelled of storm clouds and safety.'

"I'm sorry I'm late, Princess," Anderson murmured.

"Princess?" Damian choked out.

Anderson didn't look at him.

"She is Ariana Morrison. Daughter of the late Duke. My cousin. And the rightful heir to the White Wolf bloodline."

Damian's face went gray.

"And you," Anderson pointed to the hearse. "Take Mr. Rodriguez. He will be buried in the Royal Crypts."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

"Let's go home, Lia," Anderson said, offering his arm.

I took it.

As I stepped into the SUV, I heard Anderson give an order.

"Ensure the boy with the broken hand receives the best medical care. Invite him to the capital."

"And the Alpha?"

Anderson smiled. 'A terrifying, bloodthirsty smile.'

"Leave him. The hunt is more fun when the prey knows it's doomed."

Damian POV:

The mud was cold. I couldn't move until the Royal convoy disappeared.

I collapsed forward, gasping. My wolf was whimpering, terrified.

'Princess.'

"Damian?"

Hadley hopped toward me with an umbrella. 'Annoyed, not concerned.'

"Who was that? Why did you kneel?"

I stared at her.

"That was the Lycan King," I rasped. "And Ariana... she left with him."

"Good riddance," Hadley scoffed. "Come inside. Let's finish that wine."

She touched my arm.

'A sharp, pungent scent hit my nose.'

Usually, Hadley smelled like vanilla and roses.

But the rain had washed away her perfume.

Now, underneath, I smelled... nothing. 'Sweat and chemical hairspray.'

No pheromones. No Mate spark.

"Your scent," I muttered. "It's gone."

"It's the rain!" Hadley snapped, nervously reapplying spray from a bottle in her pocket. "There. Better?"

'The vanilla smell returned, cloying and fake.'

I walked past her into the house.

Silent.

"Martha! James!"

No answer.

Kitchen empty.

On the counter, a stack of uniforms.

A note: 'We resign. We serve the Princess.'

I walked to Ariana's room. The closet under the stairs.

Bare. Just trash bags Cecil had left.

I kicked a bag. Trash spilled.

'Something glittered.'

A silver locket. Tarnished.

I opened it. Inside, a water-damaged photo of me in a wheelchair.

On the back: 'I will walk for you until you can run again.'

My chest tightened. 'The Mate Bond screamed.'

"Hadley," I said slowly as she followed me in. "Show me your wolf."

Hadley froze. "What?"

"Shift. Now."

"I... I can't. My ankle..."

"Shift!" I roared.

She flinched.

"I... I'm just too traumatized!" she cried, fake tears falling. "My doctor said the stress blocked my wolf!"

'A lie.' My wolf sensed it instantly.

I had made a mistake. A catastrophic mistake.