Chapter 6 THE PRINCE’S BETRAYAL.

Seren’s POV

The throne room didn’t smell like royalty. It smelled like a slaughterhouse.

Draven didn’t walk; he stalked. He was naked from the waist up, skin slick with blood that wasn't his, the silver bolt still protruding from his shoulder like a morbid trophy. Every step he took toward the massive oak doors left a crimson footprint.

He looked like a god of ruin. And I followed him because the bond wouldn't let me do anything else.

It was a tether of fire wrapped around my lungs, pulling me into the heart of his storm.

"Draven," I said, my voice barely a whisper over the sound of the approaching mob outside. "You can't kill a whole city."

He stopped at the base of the throne, turning to look at me. The gold in his eyes was so bright it was blinding. "I don't need to kill a city, Seren. I just need to kill the men who convinced them I’m the enemy."

The doors burst open.

It wasn't the militia. It was the Council. Five men in pristine white robes, led by the Head Mage,

Valerius. They didn't look like holy men anymore; they looked like cornered rats. Behind them, a dozen Enforcers leveled crossbows at Draven’s chest.

"Your Majesty," Valerius said, his voice trembling despite the weapons. "You are compromised. The bond has turned you into a beast. Step down, and we will ensure the girl is handled... mercifully."

Handled.

The word triggered something dark in me. I stepped out from behind Draven, my hands clenched at my sides. "I’m not a problem to be handled, you pathetic old man."

Valerius sneered at me. "You’re a Beta mistake, girl. A glitch in the system that cost us a kingdom."

"Enough." Draven’s yelled. He reached up, grabbed the silver bolt in his shoulder, and pulled.

A guttural growl escaped his throat as the jagged metal tore free. He didn't even flinch as he dropped the bloody bolt onto the floor. It clattered.

"You wanted a leash," Draven said, stepping toward the Mages. The Enforcers' hands shook on their triggers. "You wanted a King you could control, so you hunted for a mate you thought you could break. You underestimated her. And you definitely underestimated me."

"Kill him!" Valerius shrieked.

The world slowed down. The twang of a dozen crossbow strings filled the air.

I didn't think. I felt.

The golden tether in my chest snapped taut. I lunged forward, not to hide, but to reach for the power Draven was radiating. I slammed my palms against his back, and for the first time, I didn't fight the bond. I opened the floodgates.

Take it, I thought. Take everything I am.

A shockwave of pure, golden light exploded from us.

The bolts didn't hit. They disintegrated mid-air, turned to ash by a barrier of magic. The Enforcers were thrown back against the walls, their armor crumpling like parchment.

Draven let out a roar, his body beginning to shift. But he didn't turn into a wolf. He stayed human, his muscles bulging, his claws extending, his skin glowing with the golden light I was feeding him.

He was a nightmare in gold.

He moved faster than my eye could follow. He didn't use a sword. He used his hands.

Necks snapped. Robes were stained red. The Council members who had spent their lives playing god were reduced to screaming meat in seconds.

I watched it all. I didn't look away. There was a dark, twisted part of me—the girl who had been sold for a thousand credits that craved this justice.

Draven reached Valerius last.

He caught the Mage by the front of his robes and lifted him off the ground. Valerius clawed at Draven’s forearms, his face turning a bruised shade of purple.

"Wait," I called out.

Draven paused, his head tilting like a wolf deciding where to bite. He looked back at me, his eyes wild.

I walked over, my bare feet clicking on the blood-slicked floor. I looked Valerius in the eye. "You told me my father signed that waiver for an extra thousand credits."

Valerius wheezed, a pathetic, bubbling sound.

"You manipulated me" I said, seeing something in the Mage's flickering eyes. "You forged everything. You took me because you knew the bond would be too strong for Draven to ignore. You wanted to use me to break him."

I looked at Draven. "Kill him."

Draven didn't hesitate. A sickening crack filled the room, and Valerius went limp. Draven dropped the body like it was garbage.

Silence returned to the throne room, heavy and suffocating.

Outside, the shouts of the militia had stopped. The presence of the Alpha King—the sheer, crushing weight of his power had reached them.

They weren't soldiers. They were prey, and they knew it.

Draven turned to me. The gold in his eyes was receding, leaving behind a look of naked hunger. He walked toward me, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his fingertips.

He stopped inches from me. He was a monster. He was a killer. And he was mine.

"You stayed," he rasped.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," I whispered.

He grabbed the back of my neck, his thumb brushing my jaw. "You could have run while I was killing them. You could have vanished into the tunnels."

"I tried that. It didn't work." I leaned into his touch, my heart racing. "If the world is going to hate me for being your mate, I might as well give them a reason."

Draven’s lips curled into a dark, devastating smile.

He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine.

"They're going to call us monsters, Seren. They're going to tell stories about the King who burned his own Council for a girl from the slums."

"Let them," I said, my hands finding the heat of his waist. "Let's give them a story they'll never forget."

He crushed his mouth to mine, the kiss tasting of salt, iron, and a future built on ashes. He lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist, as he backed me toward the throne.

He sat down on his throne, holding me in his lap like I was the only thing that mattered in a crumbling world.

"The war isn't over," he whispered against my throat. "Aiden is still out there. The Northern Lords will call for our heads."

"Let them come," I said, my voice hardening. "I'm done being the lightning rod, Draven. From now on, I'm the storm."

A sudden, sharp pain flared in my chest.

I gasped, clutching at my heart. Draven stiffened, his grip on me tightening until it hurt.

"Seren?"

I looked down. A thin, black line was spreading across my skin, originating from the spot where Aiden had pressed his bleeding palm against my forehead. The ritual—it hadn't been finished, but it had left a mark.

A low, mocking laugh echoed from the shadows of the gallery above.

"You forgot one thing, Father," Aiden’s voice drifted down, icy"A blood bond can't be broken. But it can be corrupted."

I looked up, my vision beginning to tunnel.

Aiden stood there, his eyes no longer blue, but an oily black. He wasn't alone. Behind him stood a figure cloaked in shadows, holding a staff that hummed with a dead, necrotic energy.

"The Council wasn't the only one looking for a weapon," Aiden sneered. "Meet the Necromancers of the Void. They’ve been waiting a long time for a King to lose his heart."

My heart gave a violent, irregular thud. The black line on my skin pulsed.

"If I can't have the throne," Aiden said, raising his hand, "then I'll just have to watch you kill the only thing you love."

The black lines suddenly raced across my body, reaching for my throat. I tried to scream, but my voice was gone. My body went rigid, my eyes snapping open as the gold was violently replaced by black.

I didn't see Draven anymore. I saw a target.

My hand flew to the dagger at Draven's belt.