He was the Lycan King. Everyone knew the stories. The ruthless ruler of the Ironfang Lycans. The pack that made ours look like pups playing in the dirt. He'd come for alliance talks, or so the rumors said. Weapons. Territory. Blood oaths. But now he was staring straight at me like I was the only thing in the whole damn prison.
His voice came low, calm, but it carried. "I heard about the ceremony and the rejection." He didn't look at Sveinn. He was still staring at me. "You threw away something that belongs to me now."
Sveinn laughed, nervous. "She's pack property, King Gunnar. She's broken and worthless."
Gunnar's lip curled. "No, she's my mate. I felt the bond snap the second I saw her. The moon doesn't lie, even when cowards try to break it."
The air left my lungs. Mate? Him? My head spun. I grabbed the bars to stay upright. Inside, something stirred. Not a full wolf, but a spark. Warm. Angry. Hungry.
Sveinn stepped between us. "You can't just claim —"
"Yes, I can." Gunnar's hand shot out, faster than I could track, and closed around Sveinn's throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. A warning. "Your pack owes me for the last raid your idiots pulled on my border. Consider her as payment or we skip the alliance and I take what I want anyway."
Sveinn's face went red. He tried to speak but he couldn't.
I should've felt something for him. Instead all I felt was a cold, sharp satisfaction. The same bastard who just spit on everything we had was getting choked by the one man who might actually be worse.
Gunnar finally let go. Sveinn stumbled back, coughing. The king turned to me again. Those eyes pinned me in place.
"You coming the easy way, Elva? Or do I drag you out the same way they dragged you in?"
I swallowed. My heart hammered so loud I barely heard my own answer. "I'm coming with you my King."
He nodded once. The guards unlocked the cell without a word. Gunnar held out his hand. I took it. His grip was calloused, warm, and it sent that spark inside me flaring higher. For the first time tonight I didn't feel small.
Whatever came next with this Lycan King, it couldn't be worse than rotting in that cell.
I was wrong about a lot that night.
But I had a feeling this part was just getting started.
We stepped out of the cell block and the night air hit me like a slap. It was cold as fuck. My bare feet sank into the mud, robe torn and clinging to my legs. The whole pack still crowded the edges of the clearing, torches flickering, faces twisted in shock or glee.
Sveinn stood at the front, rubbing his throat where Gunnar had grabbed him, eyes burning with pure hate.
"You can't just take her!" he snarled, voice cracking like the coward he was. "She's Shadowpine blood. Mine to punish."
Gunnar didn't even slow down. His hand stayed locked around my wrist, not tight enough to bruise but solid enough that I knew running wasn't an option. "She's mine now. The moon said so. Try stopping me and your whole pack burns before dawn."
I kept my mouth shut and my chin up. Sunna caught my eye from the side, her mouth open like she wanted to scream but knew better. My father, Jakob, just stood there with the elders, arms crossed, not saying shit. Typical. Mom had already disappeared into the crowd. *Thanks for the support, assholes.*
Two massive black horses waited at the tree line, reins held by a scarred warrior with a thick beard and eyes like flint. He went by the name Matthías Bjarnason. I'd heard the name whispered in pack rumors. He was Gunnar's second, the one who crushed rebellions for fun. He gave me one look, snorted, and tossed the reins to Gunnar without a word.
"Mount up," Gunnar told me. No explanation. Just that low growl of a voice that made my stomach twist in ways I hated.
I grabbed the saddle horn and swung up behind him before he could haul me like baggage. My arms went around his waist on instinct. He was solid muscle under the leather jacket, warm even through the chill. His scent hit me next, it was pine, smoke, and something sharp like steel. It made that weird spark in my chest flare again, hotter this time. *What the hell is that feeling? Not my wolf. It can't be.*
We took off before the pack could organize. Hooves pounded the dirt path out of the clearing and into the pines. Branches whipped past. I pressed my face against Gunnar's back to keep from getting smacked. Behind us, shouts rose up —Sveinn yelling orders, a few warriors shifting and howling. They'd chase. Of course they would. I was their embarrassment, not their loss.
The forest blurred. My heart hammered so hard I felt it in my head. *This is real. Sveinn rejected me like trash in front of everyone. My own father let it happen. And now I'm riding off with the Lycan King like some war prize.* I wanted to scream. Instead I dug my fingers into Gunnar's sides and held on.
After a mile the path narrowed. Gunnar slowed the horse to a trot and glanced back at me over his shoulder. Silver eyes caught the moonlight filtering through the trees. "You gonna hold onto me or talk?"
"Talk about what?" I snapped. "How you just bought me like a fucking horse? Or how my mate tossed me in a cell two hours ago?"
He faced forward again. "Not your mate. Never was. The bond I felt when I walked in... that's real. Moon doesn't fuck around."
I laughed, short and bitter. "Yeah? Well the moon can choke on it. I don't even know you. You're the guy who raids borders and leaves bodies. And now I'm what, your Luna? Bullshit."
Matthías rode up beside us on his own horse, matching pace easy. "King Gunnar, we got company. Three scouts, shifting fast. Shadowpine colors."
Gunnar's body tensed under my hands. "Handle it quiet. No full fight yet. I want her clear before blood really starts."
Matthías peeled off into the trees without another word. Gunnar kicked the horse faster. We broke out of the thick pines onto an old logging road that hugged the border river. Water rushed loud below the bank. My robe flapped in the wind, thighs freezing against the saddle.
That's when the first howl cut the night. It felt close. Too close I twisted to look and saw three wolves burst from the underbrush running after us. They were Sveinn's best trackers, fur bristling, eyes glowing.
Before I could say a word, one leaped straight for us.