Chapter 10

Kieran didn’t respond to my taunt. He just stared for a long moment, his jaw tight, then released me without a word. It was unlike him not to have the last say. His silence was more unsettling than any threat he could have made. But I didn’t wait around to question it.

I slipped out of the room, my heart pounding, muscles still tensed from the confrontation. I didn’t feel safe, but at least I was alone. Finally.

Back in the narrow servant quarters, I didn’t collapse in exhaustion no matter how much I wanted to. I trained instead. Push-ups, sit-ups, shadowboxing in silence until sweat soaked my clothing.

The only thing that kept me sane was motion, reminding myself I still had control over my own body. The Alphas only had the control I gave them, no matter what they thought. I obeyed to keep myself safe, to buy time to come up with a plan to escape. I was not broken. I was not their pet or their toy.

The guards rarely spoke to me. The servants avoided eye contact, their gazes flicking to the collar at my neck like it was a serpent that would bite them if they weren’t wary. I wasn’t just different, I was a warning. A symbol of what happened to defiant wolves. No one dared ask what I'd done. But I saw their whispers, their pity, and something worse: fear.

Not of me. No one was scared of a humiliated half-wolf. They were scared of what the alphas might do if they got involved. So no one offered me even the slightest hint of comfort or camaraderie. I might as well already be a Rogue, for all the good being part of a pack did me.

I didn’t expect any of the other wolves to stand up for me or fight for me. That would never happen. But when I had been the Alpha’s daughter, they had at least had a kind smile or a pat to the shoulder for me. Now I might as well be a ghost.

The days passed with agonizing slowness, and the pack buzzed with nervous energy. The grand mate ball was approaching. It would be a seven-day event, drenched in tradition and desperation. Girls from allied packs would flood in, hoping to be chosen. It wasn’t just a celebration. It was a hunt.

Lucian and Kieran were still looking for their fated mate. The news spread like wildfire. Unclaimed she-wolves were already arriving, giggling and perfumed, practically throwing themselves at anyone with alpha blood. Most wolves dreamed of being chosen. Of being marked. Mated.

I didn’t understand the urgency. The twins didn’t seem like the type to care about love. Kieran was a flirt, sure, but always detached. The women he took to his bed were just there to scratch an itch. I doubted he even knew their names. He certainly didn’t care. And Lucian? He couldn’t even fake interest in most women. He was colder than ice and twice as sharp.

They weren’t romantic. They were lethal. The wolves around them weren’t Pack, they were tools. A means to an end. But what end? I hadn’t been able to figure that out yet.

Surely they wanted something more from life than to conquer and destroy. But even the hunt for their perfect, fated mate was carried out like another battle campaign. It wasn’t about love, I was certain of that. I’m not sure either one of them knew what love was.

So why the obsession with finding their mate? Something didn’t add up.

I didn’t have any opportunity to watch Lucian, because he was out dealing with the Rogues. But I was perfectly positioned to observe Kieran’s behavior. And it quickly became obvious that something was wrong.

Kieran’s mood shifted quickly and randomly. He’d go from affable and cheery to growling rage with no warning. Every wolf in the pack learned to tiptoe around him to avoid his temper. But that obviously annoyed him, too.

Because I was constantly at Kieran’s side, I heard reports on Lucian. Wolves who came in for healing and to be relieved by fresh hunters talked. They said Lucian was wild on the battlefield, almost a berserker. The fighters from previously conquered packs spoke with unease and confusion. That wasn’t like Lucian, apparently. He was normally a controlled, ice-blooded fighter.

The more I watched and listened, the more I started to suspect the mate ball wasn’t just about ceremony and tradition. No, the twins weren’t waiting for “the one” because it was expected of them as Alphas. They were desperate to find her. Like their lives depended on it. And maybe they did.

Something was visibly wrong with them. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. So far, no one had tried to take advantage but it was only a matter of time.

That was the first time I thought… What if I’m the key? I pushed the thought aside. Dangerous. Arrogant. Stupid. I was a half-breed, wearing a collar they put on me like I was their pet.

My wolf insisted they were my mates, my second chance. But they didn’t recognize the fact. They hadn’t realized it yet. Maybe my wolf was wrong. I was a half blood, so she was weaker than other wolves. Maybe she was less perceptive, too.

Still, something told me the reason behind their search was my way out. If I could uncover what they were chasing, what they were so desperate to find, I might find a way to use it to my advantage. Maybe even escape.

That night, I finally let my body rest. I curled on the stiff cot in my room, muscles aching and mind racing with strategies. Tomorrow, I’d test Kieran. Push a little more. Flirt, provoke, do whatever it took to shake his control. His wolf was getting restless. Unstable. There had to be a way to use that.

I didn’t sleep peacefully. Sometime in the middle of the night I woke in a panic, heart thudding. Something was wrong.

The scent hit me first—blood. But not fresh. Old, metallic, sweet with rot. It didn’t smell like pack. It smelled strange and wrong. Then I felt it. Weight. Pressure on my wrists. I opened my eyes. Lucian was there.

He was hovering above me, eyes feral, lips parted just enough to show the glint of his teeth. He smelled of rogue blood and rage, his chest heaving like he’d just come back from a fight. His hand wrapped around my throat, not tight enough to cut off air, but enough to warn me how easy it would be. One flex of his fingers and I’d be gone. I didn’t move.

“Lucian?” I said, my voice hoarse, guarded. “What are you doing?”

Still nothing. His eyes weren’t quite right. They flickered between stormy gray and bright, glowing gold. His wolf was dangerously close to the surface.

I whispered his name again, this time barely louder than a breath. “Lucian…”

His thumb brushed over my pulse. I held back a shudder. My wolf, usually snarling inside me, was silent. Still. I didn’t know what scared me more: Lucian’s presence, or my wolf’s eerie calm.

I sat frozen, throat throbbing, my heart trying to punch its way out of my ribs. This wasn’t just rage. This wasn’t just dominance. He looked at me like he was seeing something that wasn’t there, or worse, like he didn’t see me at all.

Lucian wasn’t fully conscious. His body was here, physically anyway—but the rest of him? Something else had taken over.