The golden ring flaring in the Lycan King's obsidian eyes paralyzed me. The low rumble vibrating through the floorboards wasn't just a sound; it was a physical weight pressing against my chest, a primal warning screaming at my wolfless instincts to submit.

Before the King could speak, the Dowager Luna shattered the spell.

"He is not an option, Elinor," Genevieve's voice sliced through the heavy air, sharp and absolute. She stepped out of the shadows, her posture rigid with indignation. "The Lycan King is the ruler of our kind. He is not a contingency plan for a broken engagement. The treaty implies a union of the same generation-"

"Does the *Blood Treaty* specify a generation, Dowager Luna?" I interrupted, my voice ringing out clearer than I felt.

Genevieve's jaw snapped shut. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, but she didn't have an immediate answer. Because there wasn't one.

I seized the microscopic hesitation. I couldn't back down now; I was already standing on the edge of the cliff. "Your heir broke the pact. He abandoned me at the altar for a human. Will the mighty Blackwood Pack break a sacred treaty *twice* in one day? Before the Goddess and every Alpha in this room?"

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and damning. Whispers erupted from the pews like a lit fuse.

Genevieve's face tightened. To deny me was to admit her family were oath-breakers in front of the entire North American werewolf elite. A complex emotion-a flash of fury mixed with a begrudging, microscopic glint of respect-crossed her ancient features. Slowly, she turned her head toward the throne, yielding the floor to the only man who could overrule her.

Kaelen Blackwood stood up.

The whispers died instantly. As he stepped down from the dais, the air in the Great Hall seemed to thin. He was massive, his broad shoulders blocking out the fractured light from the stained glass. He moved with the terrifying, silent grace of an apex predator, his dark suit impeccably tailored over a body built for war. The scent of cedar, expensive bourbon, and raw, unadulterated danger washed over me, making my head spin.

He stopped mere inches from me. I had to tilt my head back just to meet his gaze.

"Do you understand what you are asking, little wolf?" His voice was a subterranean rumble, devoid of warmth but vibrating with a dark, possessive power. "To claim the King means you belong to me. Completely."

My knees threatened to buckle under the sheer force of his Alpha aura. I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that the sharp sting of broken skin grounded me. I forced myself to stare directly into the golden fire burning in his dark eyes.

"I am asking for a husband who keeps his word," I countered, my voice trembling just enough to betray my terror, but loud enough for the hall to hear. "To restore my honor."

I shifted my gaze to his mother. "The Blackwoods honor their debts. You said so yourself."

Genevieve's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line, but she gave a single, stiff nod.

Kaelen's eyes snapped back to mine, the golden rings flaring brighter, analyzing every inch of my pale face. He was searching for weakness, for the moment I would break and run.

"This is your last chance to walk away," he warned softly, the threat meant only for my ears.

"I'm not walking away," I whispered back.

A muscle feathered in his jaw. For a second, I thought he might summon his guards to drag me out. Instead, he extended his arm toward me. The fabric of his suit pulled taut over thick, iron-hard muscle, revealing a glimpse of ancient tribal tattoos at his wrist.

"Then let us not keep the Goddess waiting," Kaelen commanded, his voice echoing with absolute finality.

I reached out, my trembling fingers wrapping around his forearm. It felt like grabbing hold of a loaded weapon. As he turned us toward the glowing moonstone altar, the crushing reality of what I had just done settled over me like a shroud. I had escaped the humiliation of a coward, only to walk willingly into the den of an ancient beast, and I had locked the door behind me.

Chapter 3 3

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