Claimed By The Lycan King After Being Betrayed E-Book

Laura Dutton

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

Raina was an omega who kept her head down—until the night her own pack dragged her into the light and called her a traitor.

Set up by the heir she once trusted, Raina is offered as “restitution” to a man nobody dares name out loud: the Lycan King. In Greywick City, power isn’t polite. It’s territory lines, iron rules, and blood debts that don’t disappear just because you beg.

The King doesn’t promise her freedom. He promises protection—on his terms.
Thrown into a cold palace full of sharp smiles and hidden knives, Raina learns fast: rich wolves don’t play fair, and betrayal comes dressed in silk. The same people who sold her will try to pull her back, and the King’s court will test her like she’s a mistake he’s about to regret.

But Raina isn’t here to be anybody’s payment.
If she has to wear a crown to survive, she’ll wear it. If she has to bite to stay standing, she’ll bite. And if the truth about her past is bigger than Marrow Creek ever admitted… then the King didn’t claim a weak omega.

He claimed a storm.
Claimed By The Lycan King After Being Betrayed is a gritty, emotional werewolf romance packed with danger, heat, and high-stakes power games.

Tropes & themes:
fated claim vibes • lycan king • betrayal & revenge • pack politics • forced proximity • strong heroine • court intrigue • dark romance edge

Leseprobe

Claimed By The Lycan King After Being Betrayed

Laura Dutton

Copyright © 2026 Laura DuttonAll rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations used in reviews or other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

Betrayal Don’t Knock—It Kicks the Door In

Blood on My Name, Ice in His Eyes

Sold Out for a Handshake and a Chain

The Lycan King Pulls Up Blacked-Out

“You Mine Now”—And the Room Went Quiet

A Mark Ain’t a Promise—It’s a Warning

Rich Wolves Don’t Beg, They Buy

His Mansion, My Cage, His Rules

The First Time I Snapped Back

Pack Law and Street Law Collide

Diamonds at Dinner, Fangs in the Dark

He Don’t Touch Soft—He Touches Claim

The Betrayer Comes Calling

A Queen Ain’t Chosen—She Survives

The Night I Learned What He Really Is

Smoke in the Hallway, War in the Air

His Enemies Wear Suits Like Armor

The Deal I Refused to Sign

A Trap Set with Perfume and Pride

When the King Lost Control

Taken Again—But Not by Him

I Bled, I Bit, I Came Back Meaner

The Council Tried to Break Us

He Put the Crown on the Table

My Past Walked In Holding a Knife

Truth Hits Harder Than Any Fist

The Lycan King Went to War for Me

The Betrayer Begged—Too Late

Claimed in Front of Everybody

Queen of His Throne, Wolf of My Own

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

The first thing I noticed was the chain.

Not the cheap kind the street kids flash for clout. This one was thick, heavy, real gold—resting on Jace Marrow’s throat like he was born wearing it. Like rules didn’t apply to him. Like debt didn’t touch his house.

He stood at the front of the banquet hall with a glass in his hand and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Behind him, the pack banners hung in neat lines—Marrow Creek’s crest stitched in black thread on silver cloth. Old money pretending it wasn’t raised on blood.

I kept my hands folded low, fingers tight. I wore the same plain dress I always wore to formal nights, because omegas don’t show up shining unless somebody tells them to. My hair was pulled back into a low knot, smooth enough to pass inspection. The thin scar cutting through my left eyebrow looked darker under the chandeliers. I could feel people clock it anyway. They always did.

Twenty-four years old, and I already knew what it meant to be watched like a problem.

I wasn’t born into power. My mom cleaned houses on the edge of the territory until her lungs gave out. My dad vanished when I was nine. In Marrow Creek, that kind of history sticks to you. Doesn’t matter how hard you work, how quiet you stay. Folks still hear “omega” like it’s a warning label.

Tonight, I wasn’t here to celebrate. I was here because Jace told me to come.

Jace. Alpha’s son. Heir in a tailored suit. The kind of man who could ruin you with a nod and call it “pack business.”

He used to be my friend. That’s the cut that never closed.

My best friend, Tasha, slid into the seat beside me and leaned close. “You look like you about to swing on somebody,” she whispered.

“I’m fine.”

Tasha didn’t believe me, but she didn’t push. She had braids down her back and a sharp mouth, and she was the only one in this whole place who said my name like it belonged in her mouth.

A few tables over, the enforcers laughed too loud. The elders pretended not to listen. The Beta, Mr. Hollis, stood near the wall like a shadow with a title. Every face in that room knew the rules.

Marrow Creek territory ran from the river warehouses to the north cut of Greywick City. The border lines were painted with patrol routes and fear. Curfew after midnight. No shifting inside city limits unless the Alpha gave the word. No fighting in the banquet hall. No mating claims without council approval.

The last one was the funniest.

Because real mates didn’t wait for permission.

Jace lifted his glass higher, and the room went quiet the way it always did when his family wanted something. Even the serving staff stopped moving.

“My pack,” he said, smooth as oil. “We’ve had a strong season. Profits up. Borders held.”

Profits.

That’s how Marrow Creek talked. Like we were a business, not a bunch of wolves packed into a city that wanted us dead. Like the streets outside didn’t have hunters and cops and worse things that didn’t wear badges.

Jace’s gaze landed on me.

Not warm. Not friendly. Just aimed.

“And we’ve had a problem,” he continued. “A breach.”

My stomach tightened.

Tasha’s knee bumped mine under the table. A warning.

I hadn’t done anything. I’d been working the books all week in the back office, balancing ledgers for people who treated my paycheck like charity. I didn’t run with crews. I didn’t sneak past curfew. I didn’t even drink at these events.

But when the heir looks at you like that, innocence means nothing.

Jace set his glass down. “Someone has been feeding information about our routes. Patrol times. Drop points.”

A low murmur swept through the hall. Enforcers shifted in their seats. A couple of elders leaned toward each other, whispering like they weren’t loud.

My throat went dry.

Jace snapped his fingers once.

Two guards—Marrow Creek enforcers—moved toward me.

I stood so fast my chair scraped the floor. “What is this?”

One of the guards grabbed my arm. His grip was hard, disrespectful.

I yanked back. “Don’t touch me.”

“Council order,” he said.

Tasha pushed up too. “Nah, don’t do her like that—”

“Sit,” Mr. Hollis said, calm as a gun on a table.

Tasha’s eyes flashed, but she sat. Not because she wanted to. Because she knew what would happen if she didn’t.

My heart didn’t race. It didn’t do anything dramatic. It just dropped. Like my body already understood the truth before my mind caught up.

Jace walked down from the front, slow, enjoying the silence he caused. He stopped right in front of me, close enough that I caught his scent.

And that was how I knew.

Not the suit. Not the smug face. The scent.

He’d masked it before. He’d played careful. Tonight, he let it loose.

Guilt.

Fear.

And something sharp under that, like he was proud of himself.

“You’re accusing me,” I said, voice low.

Jace tipped his head, like I was a kid asking a dumb question. “Not accusing,” he replied. “Confirming.”

“Confirming what?” My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Say it straight.”

He glanced at the elders, then back to me. “That you’ve been stealing from pack operations and selling info to outsiders.”

The room reacted like he’d thrown meat to dogs.

I stared at him. “You know that’s a lie.”

He leaned closer, voice soft enough for only me. “You should’ve stayed grateful, Raina.”

My name hit like a slap. He hadn’t said it in weeks.

“Raina” used to mean late-night talks on the roof of the old apartment building. It used to mean he’d bring me food when my mom was sick. It used to mean he’d look at me like I mattered.

Now it sounded like something he could step on.

I swallowed. “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes didn’t move. “Because I have to pay what my father owed.”

I blinked. “What?”

Jace straightened up and addressed the room, loud again, performance back in place. “We all know the Lycan King doesn’t take excuses. He takes payment.”

The hall went colder, even with the heat running.

Nobody said the Lycan King’s name out loud. Not in Marrow Creek. Not in Greywick. Not unless you wanted your luck to turn ugly.

I’d heard stories, same as everybody. Packs that disappeared overnight. Alphas who got dragged out of their beds. Territories swallowed whole like they were nothing but loose change.

I tried to breathe. “Jace—”

He didn’t look at me.

Mr. Hollis stepped forward. “The council has decided. To prevent war, we will offer restitution.”

Restitution.

My mouth went numb. “You’re offering me.”

The Beta didn’t deny it.

The elders avoided my eyes like I was already gone.

Tasha stood up again, shaking now. “This is foul. This ain’t pack law.”

One elder finally spoke, voice thin. “Pack law bends when a king stands at the border.”

I turned my head toward Jace. “Tell them the truth.”

His jaw ticked, just once. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

I laughed, short and bitter. “Oh, now you wanna act like I’m beneath you. After all them nights you—”

His hand shot out and gripped my chin. Hard.

The hall gasped, but nobody moved.

Jace’s eyes went dark. “Careful,” he muttered. “You’re not in your little rooftop world anymore.”

I slapped his hand away. The sound cracked through the silence.

For half a second, I thought he might hit me back.

Instead, Jace smiled. “Bring her.”

The guards tightened on my arms, pulling me toward the side doors.

I fought, not because I thought I’d win, but because my body refused to go quiet. My shoes skidded on polished floor. My dress tore at the seam. My scar burned like it remembered every other time people tried to make me small.

Tasha lunged. One guard shoved her back. She stumbled into a table, knocking over glasses. Red wine spilled like fresh blood across white cloth.

“Raina!” she yelled, voice breaking. “Don’t let ’em take you—”

I didn’t answer. If I opened my mouth, I might scream, and I wasn’t giving them that.

The doors swung open.

Cold air punched me in the face.

Outside, the night was crowded with black SUVs lined up along the curb like a funeral procession. Men in dark coats stood beside them, still and quiet. Not Marrow Creek. Not Greywick street crews either.

These were palace wolves. The kind that didn’t need to raise their voices because everybody already feared what they could do.

Then the last car door opened.

A man stepped out, tall as a threat, built like violence in expensive fabric. No flashy jewels. No loud colors. Just a long coat, polished boots, and a calm that made the guards holding me feel like kids.

His eyes found mine.

Gold.

Not bright, not pretty. Gold like a coin dropped in deep water.

The scent hit right after—power, clean and sharp, like winter air cutting through smoke. My wolf, buried deep from years of keeping quiet, surged up inside me like it had been waiting for this moment.

I didn’t know his name, but I knew who he was.

The Lycan King.

He walked toward me, unhurried. He didn’t glance at Jace, didn’t acknowledge the elders spilling out behind us, didn’t care about their bowed heads. His attention stayed locked on me like I was the only thing on the street worth seeing.

Jace stepped forward, voice too eager. “Your Majesty, the council—”

The Lycan King lifted a hand.

Jace shut up.

That small motion did what titles and chains couldn’t. It erased him.

The King stopped an arm’s length away from me. I could see a faint scar near his mouth, like someone once tried and failed to take something from him.

He looked at the bruising grip marks on my arms. His gaze didn’t change, but the air around him sharpened.

“You,” he said, voice low, controlled. “You’re the one they’re handing over.”

I held his stare. My knees wanted to buckle, but I locked them in place. “Looks like it.”

His eyes flicked toward the hall, toward Jace, toward the pack that raised me and just sold me.

Then he looked back at me.

“Did you betray them?” he asked.

The question wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t cruel either. It was flat, like he wanted truth and didn’t care how it arrived.

I swallowed hard. “No.”

For a beat, the street went silent. Even the city noise felt far away.

The Lycan King stepped closer. He leaned in, not touching, just enough for his breath to brush my ear.

“Then you’ve been priced for someone else’s sin,” he said.

My eyes stung, not from fear, not from cold—something worse. Something that felt like my whole life finally making sense in the ugliest way.

He straightened and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

“From this moment,” the Lycan King said, “she is under my banner.”

The guards’ hands loosened, like their bodies understood they didn’t own me anymore.

Jace’s face went tight. “Your Majesty, the agreement—”

The King turned his head slightly, not even giving Jace a full look. “You should be grateful I’m taking what you offered without taking more.”

Jace fell silent again, jaw clenched, eyes burning.

I watched him. The boy who once shared food with me. The man who just threw me to a king to save his family’s name.

Betrayal didn’t always come with knives.

Sometimes it came with chandeliers, wine, and a smile.

The Lycan King reached out then. Not rough. Not soft. Just sure.

His fingers closed around my wrist.

And when he pulled me toward the black SUV, I realized something that made my stomach twist.

I wasn’t being rescued.

I was being claimed.

Betrayal Don’t Knock—It Kicks the Door In

The door shut behind me, and the world I knew got cut off like a bad call.

Leather seat. Tinted glass. That clean, sharp scent still sitting in my nose like a warning. The Lycan King slid in after me, calm as if he wasn’t the reason grown wolves bowed their heads and forgot how to breathe.

Outside the window, Marrow Creek’s banquet lights blurred into streaks. I caught pieces of the sidewalk, the lined-up SUVs, my pack’s faces piled in the doorway like they were watching a show they paid for.

Tasha pushed against an enforcer’s arm, mouth moving fast. I couldn’t hear her through the glass, but I knew her words. She was the type to spit fire even when her hands were tied.

Jace stood behind the elders, stiff in his suit, eyes hard. He didn’t look sorry. Not even a little. He looked like a man who finally got his problem off his books.

The car rolled out.

No goodbye. No last-minute mercy. Just motion.

Silence filled the space between me and the King. It wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t meant to be.

He watched me like he was reading a bill he planned to collect on later.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

A glance down showed a dark smear on my forearm where the dress seam had ripped and skin got scraped. It stung, but the pain felt distant, like my body had bigger things to handle.

“I’m alive,” I answered.

One corner of his mouth twitched, not a smile. More like he liked the attitude but wouldn’t admit it.

The driver didn’t speak. Neither did the two guards up front. Their shoulders were wide, their posture straight, and each of them wore a small metal pin at the collar—crown shape, plain, no shine. Real power doesn’t need sparkle.

The city swallowed us fast. Greywick at night was loud even when it tried to sleep. Sirens. Bass from cars. People posted up on corners like they owned the concrete. Overhead lights flashing off wet streets.

Marrow Creek territory had its own feel—controlled, patrolled, locked down after midnight like a rich neighborhood pretending it wasn’t built on muscle. Outside those lines, it was just the city again. Wild in a different way.

The King leaned back, one arm resting along the seat like he had all the space in the world.

“What’s your rank?” he asked.

“Omega,” I said.

He nodded once, like he already knew. “Name.”

“Raina.”

He looked at my eyebrow scar. Not with pity. More like interest, the way a man looks at damage on a car he might still buy.

“How’d you get that?”

“Door frame,” I said.

He waited. Didn’t push. That was the first strange thing about him. He didn’t need to press. His presence did the pressing for him.

A few minutes passed before he spoke again.

“You said you didn’t betray them.”

“That’s right.”

“Then why did they hand you over so quick?”

A laugh tried to come out and died halfway. “Because I’m easy to throw.”

His gaze didn’t move. “People throw what they don’t value.”

“Yeah,” I said. “So now you’ve got me. Congrats.”

The air in the car tightened. One of the guards in front shifted like he didn’t like my tone. The King lifted two fingers, barely a motion. The guard stilled again.

So that’s how it worked. He didn’t bark. He didn’t threaten. He just decided.

My hands sat in my lap, steady. Inside, everything was messy. Rage. Shame. A cold fear that kept trying to climb my throat. It all mixed together until it felt like I couldn’t tell what I was feeling anymore.

“What did Marrow Creek owe me?” he asked.

I blinked. “You.”

He watched me for a long beat, then corrected, “What did they owe my house.”

That wording mattered. My pack talked profits. He talked house. Like a dynasty.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Jace said his father owed a debt.”

“And you believed him.”

“I believe he’d lie,” I snapped. Then I lowered my voice. “I don’t know what to believe. I just know they framed me.”

The King’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Framed you how?”

I swallowed. “They accused me of selling patrol routes. Drop points. Said I stole from pack operations.”

“You work the books.”

“Yes.”

“So you had access.”

“I had access to numbers. Not secret routes.”

He studied my face again, like he was weighing the truth by the shape of my anger.

“You ever leave the territory after curfew?”

“No.”

“Shift in the city?”

“No.”

“Meet outsiders?”

“My life is a desk and a calculator,” I said. “I barely meet pack members who don’t want something from me.”

He let that sit.

The car turned. Streetlights changed. The buildings got taller, cleaner. The corners got quieter, the kind of quiet that costs money. We passed a private gate with cameras and a guard booth. The driver didn’t stop long—just enough for the guard to recognize the car and lift the barrier.

We rolled up a long driveway lined with trees trimmed so perfect it looked fake. At the end sat a stone estate that belonged in another world. Not Greywick. Not Marrow Creek. Something older. Something that didn’t ask permission to exist.

The gate behind us closed with a heavy sound.

My chest tightened for a different reason. Trapped didn’t even cover it. This wasn’t a cage with bars. This was a cage made of luxury and distance. No one would hear you scream out here.

The driver parked beneath a covered entrance. The guards got out first. One opened my door.

“Move,” he said.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” I shot back before I could stop myself.

His eyes flashed. He was used to obedience.

The King stepped out on the other side, smooth, and glanced over.

The guard’s jaw clenched. “My fault, Majesty.”

“Let her walk,” the King said.

No apology. No softness. Just a command that changed the air again.

My shoes hit stone. Cold underfoot. A few steps forward and the main doors opened without anyone touching them. A woman in a dark uniform stood inside with two men behind her. She was older, gray hair pulled tight, eyes sharp like she’d been running households before my mother ever stepped into one.

“Majesty,” she said, dipping her head. Then she looked at me. “This her?”

“Yes,” he replied.

Her gaze swept me top to bottom, quick and rude. Bruised arms. Torn dress. Hair coming loose. Then she nodded once like I was a delivery that arrived on time.

“Kitchen’s still warm,” she said to him. “And the doctor’s on site.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” I said.

She didn’t react. “You ain’t the one I was talking to.”

That hit hard, because it was familiar. That was how Marrow Creek treated me too. Like I was background noise.

The King walked past her. “She eats. Then she rests.”

The woman hesitated like she wanted to argue. Then she swallowed it. “Yes, Majesty.”

I followed because I didn’t have a choice. The hallway was wide, floors polished, walls lined with paintings of wolves in old battle gear, crowns on their heads, blood on their mouths. Not romantic. Not pretty. Just history painted like it was something to be proud of.

My wolf stirred inside me again, uneasy.

We passed a room with a long table set like a meeting was about to happen. Another room had shelves full of books that looked untouched but expensive. The whole place smelled like stone, cedar, and something that reminded me of cold nights outside city limits.

The woman led me into a kitchen big enough to feed a whole block. A plate appeared in front of me—meat, bread, something hot in a bowl that smelled like herbs.

I stared at it.

“Eat,” she said. “Or don’t. Either way, you’re not leaving crumbs on my floor.”

“Name?” I asked.

She looked surprised I spoke to her like a person. “Mara.”

“Raina,” I said.

Mara didn’t smile, but her eyes softened just a pinch. “Yeah. I heard.”

I sat and ate because my stomach was empty and my body was still in survival mode. Food tasted like metal at first. Then it tasted like food. My hands shook once and settled again.

Footsteps came in behind me. The King entered, jacket off now, sleeves rolled up. He looked less like a statue and more like a man who did things with his own hands when he felt like it.

He didn’t sit across from me. He stood by the counter, watching, letting the silence do its work.

“Why bring me here?” I asked with my mouth half full. “Why not just take your payment and be done?”

“Because I don’t take broken deals,” he said.

“I’m not a deal.”

“You are tonight.”

My jaw worked slow. “So what now? You lock me in a room and use me as a message?”

His eyes cut to mine. “You talk like you’ve already accepted defeat.”

“I talk like I know how wolves with crowns treat omegas.”

He didn’t flinch. “You know what they told you. You don’t know how I treat anybody.”

“Then tell me,” I said.

He stepped closer, stopping at the edge of my space. Not touching. Not looming. Just there, and it felt like pressure anyway.

“My name is Kael Varrik,” he said. “The crown doesn’t matter inside these walls. The name does.”

That was the first real piece of him I’d gotten. Not a title. A name.

“Kael,” I repeated, careful, like it might bite.

His gaze stayed on my face. “Tomorrow, we verify the story.”

“Verify how?”

“A scent check. A blood record. And a witness,” he said. “If you’re innocent, I’ll know.”

A chill moved through me that had nothing to do with the cold stone floors. “Witness?”

He looked away for the first time, toward the hallway, like something outside the room already annoyed him.

“Your pack sent paperwork,” he said. “Confession signed.”

My throat tightened. “Confession? I didn’t sign anything.”

“They’ll say you did.”

Mara muttered under her breath, “Dirty work.”

Kael’s eyes flicked to her. She straightened like she’d been caught stealing.

He turned back to me. “If your name is on that paper, Marrow Creek will pretend the matter is clean. They’ll use it to keep the other packs calm.”

“And you’ll use it to crush them,” I said.

He didn’t deny it. “If they lied to my house, there’s a cost.”

A hard laugh slipped out of me. “They lied to me too.”

His eyes sharpened. “You want revenge.”

“I want truth,” I said, then corrected myself because lying to him felt pointless. “I want both.”

Kael held my gaze like he could see through skin. “You don’t move like a traitor.”

“That’s not proof.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

Mara cleared her throat. “Majesty, her room is ready.”

Kael nodded once. “Show her.”

Mara led me out, down another corridor. My steps echoed. The estate didn’t creak. It didn’t whisper. It just stood there, solid, like it had buried bodies before and didn’t care.

A door opened into a bedroom larger than the apartment I grew up in. Clean sheets. Soft lights. A bathroom with marble counters and folded towels like someone expected me.

Mara pointed to a folded set of clothes on the bed. “Wash up. Put those on. Doctor can look at your arms after.”

“I said I don’t need—”

“I heard you,” she cut in. “Still happening.”

She moved toward the door, then paused. Her voice lowered. “You got anybody you need to send word to?”

My throat went tight again, but I kept my face straight. “Tasha.”

Mara nodded once like she understood what that meant. “I can’t promise anything. But I can try.”

Before I could answer, she was gone.

The room felt too quiet. Too soft. Like the kind of place people get hurt in without anyone knowing.

A knock came, light and controlled.

Kael stepped in without waiting for an answer. He held a phone in his hand.

“You get one call,” he said. “Not to warn your pack. Not to stir the city. One call to someone you trust.”

My fingers hovered before I took it. “Why?”

“Because if you’re telling the truth, someone out there is scared for you,” he said. “And if you’re lying, the call won’t save you.”

I stared at the phone. My mind went straight to Tasha’s face behind that glass, mouth moving, eyes bright with panic and anger.

Kael watched me like he was watching a fuse burn.

I dialed from memory.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then a voice answered, rough and shaky. “Raina? Where you at?”

“Tash,” I said, and my voice cracked on her name even though I fought it. “Listen. I’m… I’m not there. I’m not with the pack.”

“What did they do to you?” she snapped. “I tried to swing on Hollis, they held me back—Jace been moving weird all night—”

“Don’t say his name to me,” I said fast.

A pause. Then softer, “Okay. Okay. Where you at?”

I looked up at Kael. He didn’t move.

“I’m somewhere safe enough to breathe,” I said, choosing words like stepping around glass. “But it’s not home.”

Tasha let out a sound like she wanted to cry and punch a wall at the same time. “They set you up, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it,” she whispered. “I knew it. Raina, they talking about you like you the devil. Council already spinning it. They said you confessed.”

My stomach turned. “They forged it.”

“Yeah,” she said. “And guess what? Jace out here acting like the hero who saved the pack.”

My hand tightened around the phone. Not shaking. Just steady anger.

Tasha kept going, voice low now. “Listen to me. Don’t trust nobody from Marrow Creek. Not even the ones who act kind. They scared. They’ll trade you twice if it keeps them breathing.”

“I know,” I said.

A beat of silence.

Then she asked the thing I didn’t want to answer. “Who got you?”

My eyes stayed on Kael.

“He’s… not one of ours,” I said.

Tasha went quiet, then her voice came back thin. “Raina, don’t play. Who?”

“I can’t say.”

Another pause. Then, a whisper. “Is it him?”

I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Tasha cursed under her breath. “Oh, nah. Nah. This is bigger than us.”

“I’ll find a way,” I said, even though I didn’t know what that meant yet. “Just stay smart. Stay alive.”

“You too,” she said, and her voice broke on the last word. “Don’t let them turn you into a story.”

The line clicked dead.

Kael took the phone back without a word. He started to leave, then stopped at the doorway.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “you stand in front of my record-keeper and tell the same truth you told me.”

“And if your people decide I’m guilty?” I asked.

Kael turned his head slightly, eyes flat. “Then Marrow Creek won’t have enough money to buy what happens next.”

He shut the door.

Silence rushed back in, heavier this time.

Across the room, the clothes on the bed waited like a new skin I didn’t ask for. My arms ached where the bruises were forming. My mind kept replaying Jace’s face, his chain, his calm.

He didn’t just betray me. He used me.

And now I was in a king’s house, holding a problem that could start a war.

A soft sound came from the hallway—boots moving fast, more than one pair. Low voices. A sharp knock on the door again, this time urgent.

Mara’s voice cut through. “Raina. Don’t open it.”

Kael’s voice followed right after, colder than before. “Stay back.”

Then another voice I didn’t recognize, strained and angry. “Majesty, we caught a runner at the outer gate. Marrow Creek sent him. He’s got a message.”

My stomach dropped in a new way.

A message. From who?

Kael spoke like a blade sliding free. “Bring him to the hall.”

Mara whispered through the door, “Girl… whatever they sent, it ain’t good.”

I stared at the handle, the walls, the soft bed that suddenly looked like a trap.

Outside, footsteps moved away.

And all I could think was this: if Marrow Creek sent someone all the way here tonight, it meant the betrayal wasn’t finished. It was still moving.

Blood on My Name, Ice in His Eyes

The back door of that black SUV shut behind me like a verdict.

Street noise kept moving like nothing happened. A bus hissed at the curb. Somebody laughed on a corner. My pack—my whole damn life—stood under the banquet lights and let the night swallow me whole.

The seat smelled like leather and money. Not the loud kind Jace liked to show off. This was quiet wealth. The kind that didn’t need to talk.

A man sat across from me inside the car, legs spread, hands calm on his knees. No chains. No rings. Just a dark coat and a face that didn’t flinch. His eyes were the same shade they’d been outside—amber, sharp, unreadable. Cold enough to make you feel stupid for hoping.

Two palace wolves sat up front. Another rode shotgun outside with the driver. Nobody spoke. Nobody asked if I was okay. That wasn’t what this was.

The Lycan King looked at my wrists where the guard had grabbed too hard. The marks were already purple. His gaze didn’t soften. It just got quieter. Like a door closing.

“You don’t look surprised,” he said.

My voice came out rough. “I learned early not to waste energy on shock.”

A corner of his mouth twitched, not a smile. “That pack taught you something, at least.”

“Yeah. How to get sold with a straight face.”

His stare stayed on me. Ice behind it. Not hate. Not pity. Something worse. Calculation.

The SUV rolled forward. The tires whispered over wet pavement. Greywick slid by in pieces—neon, closed shops, brick walls tagged with crew names, alley cats darting like they owned the place.

He spoke again. “Name.”

I almost laughed. Like my name mattered now. Like I wasn’t just a body in a car.

“Raina,” I said. “Raina Vale.”

His brow moved, slight. “Vale.”

That made my throat tighten. Mom gave me that last name to keep me from being nothing. No father on record. No pack family to claim me. Just Vale, like a piece of a world I’d never see.

“Twenty-four,” I added before he asked. “Omega. Marrow Creek.”

“Noted.” One word, clipped.

The silence after that pressed on my ears. My head kept trying to spin back to the hall. The banners. Jace’s voice. Tasha getting shoved. Mr. Hollis acting like I was a problem they could toss out with the trash.

The King watched me like he could hear every thought, then said, “You said you didn’t betray them.”

“I didn’t.”

“Say it again.”

His tone didn’t rise. The command landed anyway.

“I didn’t betray them.”

The SUV hit a pothole. My shoulder bumped the door. The King didn’t move.

“Marrow Creek claims you sold routes,” he said. “Drop points. Patrol times.”

“They’re lying.”

“They’re panicking,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

A laugh tried to come out. It turned into a cough. “So what, you picked me up because you’re their babysitter?”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Don’t talk slick.”

“I’m not trying to be slick. I’m trying to understand why I’m here.”

“You’re here because they owed me,” he said. “And because you were convenient.”

There it was. No sweet talk. No fake comfort.

Heat climbed my neck. Not embarrassment. Rage. “Convenient. That’s what I am now.”

“You were always convenient to them,” he replied, like he was stating the weather.

The truth of it hit harder than the insult.

A faint shake ran through my hands. I tucked them under my thighs so he wouldn’t see. Not because I was ashamed. Because I refused to perform fear for him.

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked.

The King’s gaze slid across my face, stopping on the scar through my eyebrow. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be quiet.”

“Then what? A cage? A collar? You want me to scrub floors in whatever castle you sleep in?”

A pause. He looked away through the tinted window, like he was checking the street, not my attitude.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Then explain it.”

He finally met my eyes again. Cold still there, but now it had an edge. “My name is Kieran Drae.”

The way he said it—flat, final—made it clear it wasn’t an introduction. It was a warning.

Lycan King. Kieran Drae.

I’d heard the name in whispers, same as everybody. Packs went missing around it. Alphas fell around it. Territory lines changed like someone erased them with a thumb.

My stomach didn’t drop. It steadied. Like my body accepted what my mind had been fighting.

“Kieran,” I repeated, not adding “Your Majesty.” Not bowing. “So what now?”

His eyes stayed on me too long. “Now you stop thinking like an omega who survives by shrinking.”

“I don’t shrink,” I snapped.

He didn’t react. “You do. You hide your teeth. You measure your words. You hold your rage in your ribs until it eats you.”

That struck too close. It made me want to swing. I couldn’t. I wasn’t about to act wild in a car full of his wolves.

“So you want me loud?” I asked. “You want me stupid?”

“I want you honest,” he said. “And useful.”

Useful again. That word wanted to stay in my mouth like a bitter seed.

The car turned off the main road. A private ramp led down toward the river line, where the warehouses started and the city lights got ugly. Marrow Creek territory. My territory. I looked out and caught a glimpse of the old dock where I used to sit with Tasha after shift, eating cheap noodles and talking big dreams we never believed.

A guard in the front spoke into a phone. “We’re moving. Two cars behind. No plates.”

The driver didn’t speed up. He just changed lanes. Smooth.

Kieran didn’t look at the guard. “Stay the route.”

“Copy.”

I leaned forward, trying to see through the tint. “Who’s behind us?”

Kieran’s voice stayed even. “Not your pack.”

My pulse picked up. I hated that my body still did that. “Hunters?”

“Maybe.” He watched me. “You got enemies besides Marrow Creek?”

“No,” I said fast, then stopped. That was a lie. Not the kind that mattered on paper, but the kind that got you killed.

“Say it right,” he told me.

“Everybody got enemies when they’re born low,” I said. “But I don’t run around making deals. I don’t have some secret beef.”

The guard up front spoke again, sharper. “They’re closing. One car now.”

The SUV’s cabin got quieter, like every breath inside it turned into a weapon.

Kieran shifted his posture, small, controlled. “Stay seated.”

“As if I’m gonna jump out,” I muttered, but I stayed still.

Headlights flared behind us. Too close. The reflection flashed in the side mirror like a threat.

A loud crack hit the back window.

Glass didn’t shatter—reinforced. But the sound was enough to make my skin crawl.

“They shooting,” the guard said.

The driver didn’t curse. Didn’t panic. He hit a hidden switch.

The SUV’s back lights cut out. The vehicle dipped, then surged forward like it caught a second wind. We slid between two trucks on the bridge ramp, tight enough that the side mirrors almost kissed metal.

Another crack. The rear of the car jolted.

My breath stayed in my chest, thick and hot. Not fear exactly. Anger. Because even now, even after being traded like a bag of cash, I couldn’t just get a quiet minute to process it. The world kept reaching for me.

Kieran didn’t flinch. “Window,” he said to the guard beside the driver.

The guard rolled his window down and leaned out with a weapon I’d never seen in Marrow Creek hands. Clean. Matte black. Expensive.

Shots popped like hard claps in the night.

The chasing car swerved.

A third crack—closer. The side window on my door starred, a white spiderweb spreading from a point near my shoulder.

I froze for half a beat, then shifted away from it.

Kieran’s eyes snapped to me. “Don’t move toward the glass.”

“Yeah, I got that,” I shot back.

The driver took a hard turn onto a service road by the river. The car behind tried to follow.

Kieran spoke into his own phone, low. “Block the exit. Take them alive if you can.”

“Alive?” I said before I could stop myself.

His gaze cut to me. “You want answers, don’t you?”

My mouth went dry. Because I did. Because if somebody was bold enough to shoot at the Lycan King’s convoy, this wasn’t about an omega scapegoat anymore. This was bigger. And somehow I was in the middle of it.

The SUV slammed through an opening between warehouse gates. Another black vehicle appeared ahead like it had been waiting, sliding sideways to block the road. The chasing car hit brakes too late.

Metal screamed.

The impact sounded like bones snapping.

Everything jolted. My head knocked back against the seat. Stars flickered in my vision. No time to baby it.

The palace wolves were already moving. Doors flung open. Cold air and river stink rushed in.

Kieran stepped out without rushing, like bullets were an inconvenience. He glanced back at me. “Stay inside.”

“Sure,” I said, but my body didn’t listen.

The moment he turned away, I leaned forward and looked out through the cracked window.

Two men stumbled out of the wrecked car. Not hunters. No silver weapons. No holy symbols. Street wolves. Greywick muscle.

One of them raised his hands, laughing like a fool. “Your Majesty! We ain’t mean—”

A palace wolf hit him in the stomach with the butt of his gun. The man folded.

The second tried to run.

He didn’t get far. Another guard took him down and pinned his head to the pavement.

Kieran walked closer. Calm. Each step heavy with control.

“Who sent you?” he asked.

The man on the ground spat blood. “Man, we don’t know you like that. We was paid.”

“By who?”

The man laughed again, shaking. “Some rich boy with a gold chain. Said he wanted his debt cleaned up. Said you’d understand.”

My stomach went cold.

Jace.

He didn’t just sell me. He tried to make sure I never made it to wherever Kieran planned to take me. He wanted me gone. Dead in the street. No witness. No loose end.

A sound came from my throat, low and ugly. Not a cry. Not a sob. More like my insides scraping against my ribs.

Kieran looked over his shoulder at the SUV. His eyes found mine through the cracked glass. That same ice. Now it had something else layered under it.

Confirmation.

He turned back to the man. “You’re going to tell me exactly what he said. Every word.”

The man tried to act tough. “Or what?”

Kieran crouched, bringing his face close. “Or I peel you down to truth.”

The man’s bravado drained like water. He started talking fast. Names. Locations. A cash drop at the old fish market. A phone number. A phrase Jace used—“clean the slate.” Like killing me was wiping a table.

Kieran stood up once the man ran out of words.

One of the guards asked, “Dispose?”

Kieran’s answer was quiet. “Hold them. I’ll decide.”

He walked back toward the SUV.

The night light caught his face as he opened my door. The cold in his eyes was still there, but now it was aimed differently. Not at me. Past me. Toward the pack that handed me over with smiles.

“Step out,” he said.

My legs worked even though they didn’t want to. The river air hit my lungs like wet fists. I stood on the gravel, arms tight across my middle, trying not to look like I was shaking.

Kieran scanned my body like a soldier checks damage. His gaze paused at the spidered glass, then went to my face. “You hit your head?”

“No.” It was a lie. I didn’t want pity.

“Say it right.”

I swallowed. “Yeah. A little.”

He nodded once, then reached into his coat and pulled out a small cloth. Clean. White. He pressed it into my hand.

“There’s blood,” he said.

I stared at the cloth like it was a trick. Then I touched my hairline and pulled my fingers back red.

Great. Blood on my name for real now.

I wiped it quick. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he said, voice flat. “You’re standing.”

Something in me snapped at that. “Don’t talk like you know me.”

His gaze sharpened. “I know what betrayal smells like.”

The words landed like a brick.

Kieran stepped closer. Not touching this time. Just close enough that the space between us felt owned.

“Marrow Creek didn’t just hand you over,” he said. “They tried to erase you.”

My throat tightened. “They already did. In that room.”

He stared for a long moment, like he was choosing what to do with me. The ice in his eyes didn’t melt. It just shifted into focus.

“You’re going to help me,” he said.

A bitter laugh slipped out. “Help you how? I’m an omega. I do paperwork and keep my head down.”

“Not anymore.”

“I don’t have power.”

Kieran’s voice dropped. “You have proximity. You were close enough for him to think you were a loose end worth killing.”

That made my stomach twist. Because it was true. Because I’d been in the office. I’d seen route sheets. I’d heard enforcers talk when they forgot omegas could listen.

“And if I say no?” I asked.

His eyes held mine. No warmth. No cruelty. Just truth. “Then you stay my collateral and you live under my rules anyway.”

So that was the choice. Work with him, or sit in a pretty cage while he handled business around me.

A car door slammed behind him. One of the guards approached and spoke low. “Your Majesty, we need to move. More vehicles may come.”

Kieran didn’t turn. “We’re moving.”

He looked at me again. “Get in.”

I stood there for half a second too long, staring at him, trying to find something human on that face. Trying to find a crack where mercy lived.

Nothing showed.

Fine.

The SUV door waited open like a mouth. I climbed back in without a word.

As we pulled away, Kieran got in beside me this time, not across. Close enough that I could smell him—clean, sharp, controlled. No panic. No sweat. Just power sitting steady.

He spoke without looking at me. “You have one friend in Marrow Creek. The loud one.”

My eyes flashed to him. “Tasha.”

“She’s alive,” he said. “For now.”

“For now?” My voice went hard. “Don’t play with me.”

Kieran turned his head slightly. “I don’t play. If you help me find the leak, I can keep her breathing. If you lie, I won’t spend men on your attachments.”

Attachments.

That word cut in a new place. Not because he used it. Because he was right to. Tasha was the only thing I had left in that territory.

The SUV crossed the river line. Warehouse lights faded behind us. The road smoothed out, cleaner, guarded. This wasn’t Marrow Creek anymore.

Kieran’s phone buzzed. He checked it, then locked the screen and slipped it away.

“We’re going to my house,” he said.

A humorless sound slipped out of me. “House. Like you live in a normal place.”

He ignored that. “When we arrive, you do what you’re told. No wandering. No talking to my staff unless they speak first.”

“And if I don’t?”

His eyes cut to me again. That ice, steady as stone. “Then you learn what it costs to test me.”

The SUV slowed as gates rose ahead, tall iron and cameras. Beyond them, a long drive climbed toward a dark shape that wasn’t a mansion so much as a fortress wearing expensive skin.

My stomach tightened for a reason that wasn’t fear anymore.

This was real.

Kieran leaned closer, voice low so only I could hear it over the engine. “You’re going to give me the truth, Raina Vale.”

“I already did.”

He watched my face like he could read veins. “We’ll see.”

The gates opened.

The SUV rolled in.

And just before the house lights swallowed the road, Kieran said, “Tonight, you’re going to prove it. In blood.”

The car didn’t stop. Not yet.

But my skin knew what that meant, and my mind raced ahead to a room I hadn’t seen—cold table, sharp blade, rules written in red.

Kieran didn’t blink. “You wanted to understand why you’re here,” he said. “You’re about to.”

Sold Out for a Handshake and a Chain

The SUV door opened like a mouth, and the night dared me to step in.

City air bit cold and dirty, full of exhaust and rain-soaked concrete. Behind me, the banquet hall glowed warm and fake, like it hadn’t just watched me get handed over. In front of me stood the Lycan King—coat clean, face calm, eyes the color of old coins—waiting like he had all the time in the world.

The guards from Marrow Creek hovered at my sides, unsure what to do with their hands now that he’d spoken. A second ago they were dragging me. Now they were acting like they’d never touched me once.

Jace lingered by the steps with the elders. He didn’t come closer. Didn’t even try to look sorry. He just stood there with that thick gold chain resting on his throat, shining under the streetlight like it meant something. Like it could buy him a clean conscience.

The King looked at me again. Not with pity. Not with heat. More like he was weighing me the same way a man weighs a blade before he buys it.

“Get in,” he said.

No “please.” No explanation. Just the order.

My mouth tasted sour. “And if I don’t?”

One of his men stepped forward. Big. Quiet. Dark coat. The kind of guy who doesn’t threaten because he doesn’t need to. The King lifted his hand slightly, and that man stopped.

Those small moves told me everything. This wasn’t Marrow Creek. This wasn’t elders whispering and Betas pretending to be fair. This was a king, and everyone around him moved like they were attached to his fingers.

“I asked you a question out there,” he said. “You answered.”

“So that’s it?” I snapped, voice rough. “You just grab me off the street and I’m supposed to smile like this is some upgrade?”

His gaze slid over the bruising grip marks on my arms again. Something hard lived under his calm. “You weren’t grabbed by me.”

That was true. Didn’t make it better.

Tasha’s voice echoed in my head, sharp and scared, and it made my chest ache. She’d stood up for me. They’d shoved her down like she was trash. I had no clue what they’d do to her now that the hall was emptying and nobody had to pretend.

A laugh broke from Jace’s side, too loud, too quick. One of the elders said something to him, probably telling him he did “the right thing.” I watched their mouths move and hated them for breathing.

The King waited. No rush. No debate.

Fine.

I climbed into the SUV.

Leather seats. Clean scent. Not a hint of cheap cologne or sweaty fear. The inside felt like money that never had to prove itself. The door shut behind me with a soft, final sound that hit harder than a slam.

Across from me, the King got in on the other side. He didn’t crowd me. Didn’t touch me again. He just sat there like he owned the space between my ribs and my throat.

The vehicle rolled off the curb.

Through the tinted window, I caught one last glimpse of Marrow Creek’s steps. Jace stepped forward then, quick like he’d been waiting for the moment to feel brave. He held out his hand.

Not to me.

To the King’s man standing outside.

A handshake. Firm. Respectful. Like they’d closed a business deal. Jace’s gold chain flashed as he leaned in to say something I couldn’t hear. His smile came out slick, hungry. The kind a man wears when he thinks he got away with it.

My stomach turned.

So that was the price. A handshake. A chain on his neck. A body in a car.

Me.

The city slid by in streaks of streetlights and wet asphalt. Greywick at night was loud even when it was quiet—sirens in the distance, bass from passing cars, people shouting on corners. Marrow Creek’s territory faded behind us, and the air inside the SUV felt different the farther we went. Like my pack’s rules couldn’t reach this far.

The King broke the silence. “You’re Raina.”

Hearing my name from him felt strange. Too solid. Like it carried weight in his mouth.

“You already know that,” I said.