FATED FOR THE LYCAN KING

I woke up choking on ash and screams.

My body lurched upright before my brain caught up. Sweat soaked my shirt, hair stuck to my neck, heart slamming like I'd run for miles. But I wasn't running. I was in a bed. Thin mattress. Threadbare blanket. Peeling paint overhead. Safe, technically. Though safe doesn't mean much when your nightmares keep dragging you back to the same fire.

Same faces. Same screams.

I rubbed my face hard, trying to erase the ghosts clinging to me. But my hands still shook. My chest still ached.

In the dream, I was eight again. Hiding under the stairs, the smell of blood sharp in the air. My mother's pendant clenched in my fist. My father's last roar echoing in my ears. And then silence. Not the quiet kind. The kind that presses down, heavy and wrong. The kind that meant they weren't getting up.

I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. Cold floor. Cracked tiles. My toes curled. For a second, I let myself stare out the busted window across the alley. Rain tapped the glass like impatient fingers.

It had been twelve years. Twelve years since the Blackfang Pack buried my parents in lies and whispered the word "traitors" loud enough to rot my name with it.

Twelve years since I became the girl they forgot.

Not forgotten like lost. Forgotten like erased. Like if they ignored me hard enough, I'd stop existing. Some days, I thought it worked.

I stood, knees stiff from another night twisted in sleep. My back ached. Too many bruises from training with wolves who thought throwing punches was a good bonding exercise. I didn't flinch anymore when they aimed for the ribs. That had to count for something, right?

The pack house was quiet. Too quiet. That meant I was already late.

I yanked on jeans, a sweater two sizes too big, and stuffed my feet into scuffed boots. The mirror above the sink caught my reflection as I passed.

Plain. That was the goal.

Messy dark hair. Pale skin. Big eyes that didn't meet anyone else's. Nothing that screamed Look at me.

I didn't want attention. Not the kind I got here.

Outside, the rain had turned to mist. I kept my head down as I walked the gravel path toward the mess hall. A pair of betas lounging by the door fell silent as I passed. One snorted. The other muttered something about "wolfless waste." I didn't break stride. Didn't look. Just kept walking like I hadn't heard.

Because if I looked up, I'd have to care.

And caring meant breaking. Again.

The kitchen reeked of eggs and burned toast. I grabbed an apple off the counter, ignoring the sharp gaze of Marla, the head cook. She didn't bother hiding her sneer.

"You missed prep," she said.

I nodded, biting into the apple. Swallowed. "Won't happen again."

It would. We both knew it. My body didn't obey alarms when the past clawed me under every night.

Marla turned away with a humph. I slipped out before she could assign me to dishes.

Back outside, the air felt sharp. The wind cut through my sweater. My boots squelched through wet dirt as I headed for the tree line. I needed air. Space. Something not laced with the scent of wolves who wished I'd stayed gone.

A movement to my left caught my eye.

Milo.

The only wolf who didn't treat me like a stain on the floor. Tall, lanky, with a crooked grin and a perpetual bruise on his jaw from picking the wrong fights. He jogged up beside me, tossing a twig between his hands.

"You look like hell," he said cheerfully.

"Thanks."

"Nightmare again?"

I nodded once.

He didn't ask more. That's why I tolerated him. Milo had the good sense to let silence breathe.

We reached the edge of the forest and stopped. Mist curled between the trees, soft and slow.

"You coming to the Ceremony tonight?" he asked.

I laughed, low and humorless. "To watch people find their mates while I stand in the back like a forgotten broom? Sounds fun."

He nudged my shoulder. "You never know. Maybe the Moon Goddess will throw you a bone."

I looked at him, really looked. "You believe in that stuff? Fated mates and moon magic?"

He shrugged. "I believe some of us get lucky. The rest get Kade."

The name made my stomach flip.

Alpha Kade. Blackfang's golden boy. Cruel mouth, sharper claws. He led training like it was war prep, laughed when someone cried, and looked at me like I was something he forgot to scrape off his boot.

He was also my age.

Eligible.

I didn't let myself think about what would happen if his name came up tonight. If fate was cruel enough to tie me to the very wolf who made this place a daily hell.

Milo must've seen the flicker cross my face. He lowered his voice.

"You don't have to go. Nobody's making you."

I sighed. "If I don't show, they'll say it's because I know no one wants me."

He gave me a long look. "That's a lie they keep feeding you so you'll stay small. You're not small, Lia. You're just hiding."

I didn't answer.

Because hiding was the only thing that kept me breathing.

We parted ways near the barracks. Milo gave my hand a quick squeeze before jogging off. I stood there for a second, staring at the trees like they could swallow me whole.

But they didn't. So I went back. Washed up. Brushed my hair. Dug out the one clean dress I owned. It clung too much. Showed the scars on my arms if I moved wrong. I put it on anyway.

The Ceremony started at dusk. Bonfires lit the courtyard, casting long shadows. The pack gathered in a circle, eyes gleaming with that strange hope wolves carried on nights like this. Hope for love. For destiny.

I stayed on the edge, arms crossed, jaw set.

One by one, names were called. Pairs stepped forward, touching hands. Some gasped. Some kissed. Some cried.

Then they called mine.

Aurelia Thorne.

For a second, nothing happened. Then the air shifted. A pull in my chest, sharp and sudden. My eyes flew to the opposite end of the circle.

Kade.

Standing tall. Smirking. Eyes on me like he'd known all along.

I couldn't breathe.

The crowd buzzed. Murmurs, gasps, shifting feet.

Kade stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately. The smirk never left his face.

He reached me. Took my hand.

The bond hit like lightning. Blinding. Burning. A tether anchoring itself deep in my ribs.

He leaned in.

"Say thank you."

I yanked my hand back.

He laughed. Loud. Cruel. "Didn't think the Moon Goddess had this much of a sense of humor. A wolfless omega? As my mate?"

Silence spread like oil.

Kade raised his voice. "I, Alpha Kade of Blackfang, reject you, Aurelia Thorne."

My knees didn't buckle. My face didn't crack.

But something inside me split.

He turned, already walking away. The crowd followed, their gazes heavy with pity and pleasure.

I stood alone.

Not just forgotten anymore.

Rejected.

The fire snapped behind me. Somewhere in the woods, something howled.

And I realized I wasn't cold.

I was angry.

I stopped hoping someone would save me a long time ago.

The morning after the Ceremony, I walked through Blackfang Pack territory like a ghost in my own skin. No one spoke to me. Not even Milo. Not after what happened. Rejected in front of the entire pack. Marked by fate, then tossed aside like rotten meat.

The sting hadn't worn off.

Neither had the whispers.

"The Moon Goddess really picked her?" "He made the right call. Look at her." "Maybe she is cursed."

I kept my gaze fixed on the dirt path. Mud clung to my boots, each step heavier than the last. If I walked like I couldn't hear them, maybe I could convince myself they weren't there.

But they always were.

They trailed me like shadows, those voices. Carried through every hallway, every clearing, every breath I took in this damn place.

"Hey, Omega," someone called. I didn't turn.

A rock hit the back of my leg. Hard.

"Did you forget how to walk? You move like a slug."

I clenched my jaw and kept walking. Slow steps. Deep breaths. Don't give them what they want.

"Maybe she's deaf too," another voice laughed. "That would explain a lot."

Their laughter followed me all the way to the training lodge. I kept my face blank as I stepped inside, grabbed the mop and bucket, and started scrubbing dried blood off the sparring mats.

Beta Roran stalked past and dumped another bucket beside me with a loud splash. "Missed a spot."

"Yes, Beta," I murmured.

"What was that? Louder."

I forced my voice steady. "Yes, Beta."

He gave a satisfied grunt and walked off. I wanted to throw the bucket at his back, but I dipped the mop instead.

My arms burned as I scrubbed, each stroke a war. Dried blood clung to the rubbery surface like it didn't want to leave. My fingers ached from gripping the wooden handle.

I was halfway through the room when Lissa strode in. Her ponytail swished like a weapon behind her. She looked at me and smirked.

"Cleaning suits you. Makes sense. You're good at being beneath everyone."

I didn't reply.

"Nothing to say? That tongue of yours only works when you're whining to Milo?"

Still, I stayed silent. It was the only defense I had. But that didn't stop her.

She stepped closer. "I wonder what Kade would've done if you'd begged. Think he would've taken you behind the shed? Maybe sniffed around just once before tossing you for good?"

The mop handle snapped in my grip.

Lissa's eyes narrowed. "You better be careful, omega. Anger doesn't look good on you. Makes you less pathetic and more... dangerous."

She left with a final toss of her hair. I stared down at the broken mop in my hands, breathing fast.

By midday, I was reassigned to the kennels. Not for the wolves. For the actual dogs Blackfang used for hunting. My job? Muck out their cages, refill water, toss them scraps from the kitchen.

A puppy barked at me as I dragged a full bucket of filth past its cage.

"Yeah," I muttered. "That makes two of us in here."

Halfway through, I caught my reflection in the metal water dish. Dirt smudged across my cheek. My hair knotted at the ends.

Something about it twisted in my stomach.

Not because I looked broken.

Because I looked exactly how they wanted me to.

I dipped my hands in the water, scrubbed my face with shaking fingers, and hissed when the cold hit raw skin. There were claw marks on my neck I didn't remember getting.

Probably from training. Or yesterday. Or both.

The bell rang. Time for drills.

I didn't want to go. But if I skipped, they'd find me. And make it worse.

Afternoon drills meant group training. I changed into worn leggings and a shirt that still smelled like last week's blood. The training field stretched wide and open, surrounded by watching eyes.

Alpha Kade led the session, of course. I could feel his stare before he even said my name.

"Aurelia."

My name cracked across the clearing like a whip.

I stepped forward. Focused on breathing slowly. Calm. Unshaken.

"Pair with Lissa."

Of course.

Lissa was taller, stronger, meaner. The kind of wolf who smiled while making others bleed. We circled each other on the mat. Her smirk stretched wide.

"Don't break too easily," she said. "Kade's watching."

I didn't answer. Didn't rise to it.

I waited.

She lunged.

Her fist grazed my jaw. I stumbled, caught myself, rolled, came up fast. She grunted. Surprised.

"Oh? You've got some bite after all."

I dodged her next swing. Blocked the one after. Let instinct move faster than fear. We circled again.

But I knew how this ended. She swept my legs. I hit the ground hard. Wind knocked me out. Her knee pressed to my spine.

Kade didn't stop it.

Not until she leaned down and whispered, "Still think you belong here, freak?"

Then he called, "Enough."

Lissa stood, brushing dirt off her hands. I lay still for a second longer, breathing dust.

Kade sauntered over, slow. "Get up."

I did. Stiff. Bruised. Blood in my mouth.

He tilted his head. "You know, if you keep letting everyone walk over you, they'll forget you even exist."

"Wouldn't that be nice," I said.

His smile faded.

Later, I sat alone behind the storage shed, pressing ice to my ribs. Milo found me there.

"Saw your match," he said.

"Not a match. More like target practice."

He crouched beside me, holding out a bottle of water. I took it, sipped it.

"You didn't cry," he said.

"That's the win?"

"Today, yeah."

I leaned back against the wall. The cold from the ice soaked through the cloth. It stung. A reminder I was still here. Still feeling. Still fighting.

"Have you ever thought about leaving?" I asked.

He was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes. But where would I go?"

I didn't say it, but the answer echoed in my head: anywhere. Anywhere but here.

"You should rest," he added.

"Rest doesn't change anything."

He didn't argue. Just sat with me until the shadows grew long.

When he left, I stared at the sky. The stars hadn't come out yet, but the moon was rising. Just a sliver tonight. Still, something about it made my skin itch.

I wrapped my arms around my knees.

Wolfless. That's what they called me. What they'd always called me. I never shifted. Never felt the pull. Never heard the voice inside.

Maybe they were right.

Maybe I was broken.

But sometimes-sometimes, I dreamed of running. Fast. Free. Wild. And when I woke, the taste of wind lingered in my mouth like a dare.

I closed my eyes. Listened to the hum of the pack in the distance. Laughter, footsteps, the rustle of meat on open flame.

And beneath it, faint but clear-a growl.

Low. From inside me.

I froze.

My blood didn't chill.

It roared.

The growl wasn't imagined.

It came from somewhere deep-not just my chest, but from a place buried further down, somewhere I didn't even know was still alive. It was low, rough, almost feral. A sound that didn't belong in the human world.

It scared me a little. Not because it happened-but because it felt right. It vibrated beneath my ribs, a strange, ancient warning bell.

For a second, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Then everything fell away.

The cold ground. The battered shed wall at my back. The bruises on my arms from earlier.

Gone.

And I was eight years old again.

Our cottage had smelled like cinnamon that morning. My mom had made tea. My dad had kissed my forehead before he left for a scout patrol. I remember the way the sun filtered through the kitchen window, warming the worn tile floor.

Then the world changed.

It started with a howl. Not the usual kind-not from a hunting call, not the communal, familiar voices of pack wolves. No. This one was feral. Hollow. Wrong.

The glass in the windows shook. My mom froze, mug halfway to her lips. She didn't speak. She just listened.

Then she moved fast.

"Lia, under the stairs. Now."

I didn't understand, but I obeyed. That's what you did when her voice hit that pitch. I crawled into the little space behind the stairs. She knelt beside me. Hands trembling.

She cupped my face.

"No matter what happens. No matter what you hear. You don't come out. Do you understand me?"

I stared at her. She looked terrified. I had never seen my mother afraid. Not once. Not when I scraped my knees, not when other wolves came through with reports of rogue attacks. But now, her fear was real. It clung to her like a second skin.

I couldn't speak. I just nodded.

She kissed my forehead, her lips cold.

And then she was gone.

What happened next came in sounds. Screams. Roars. Glass shattering. Furniture breaking. A howl that ended in a wet choke.

I couldn't stay hidden.

I know. I promised. But I was just a kid. Scared. Alone. And I loved them. Loved them too much to stay behind while they fought whatever had come.

So I crept out.

And saw everything.

My father was already bleeding. He stood in the middle of the room, half-shifted, his stance unyielding. My mother had taken up a blade-the old one she kept behind the wood stove, never used except during drills. She was surrounded.

Six rogues. No scent of allegiance. Just bloodlust.

But the worst part? The man standing behind them. Not shifted. Just... watching.

Cloaked. Still. Like this was a show, and he was enjoying the final act.

His voice cut through the chaos.

"Give us the girl."

My father's growl tore from his throat. "Not a chance."

"You can't protect her."

"Try me."

And then the fight broke loose.

My mother screamed something I didn't understand-maybe an old language, something tied to her lineage, maybe just raw pain-and lunged. The blade caught one of the rogues across the chest. My father went down under two more.

Blood sprayed across the walls.

And me?

I ran.

Again.

I crashed through the back door, hit the dirt, and bolted into the trees. My lungs burned. Branches tore at my arms. My bare feet stung every time they hit frozen ground.

Behind me, something followed.

I didn't know what. I didn't look back. I ran until the pain overtook the fear.

Then I tripped.

Hit the earth so hard the air left my lungs. I tried to roll, to scramble back up.

And that's when I saw him.

The man.

Not a wolf. Not a beast. Just a man. Standing calmly over me like he'd known exactly where I'd fall.

He looked almost sorry.

"There you are," he said.

And everything blinked out.

---

I came to behind the shed. My throat was raw. My fingers dug into the dirt like I'd been trying to claw my way out of the memory.

"Lia!"

Milo's voice. Near. Panicked.

He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me once. "Hey-hey, look at me. Are you okay? What just happened?"

I stared at him. Everything inside me felt too tight. I couldn't speak for a second. Couldn't even remember how.

Then the words came.

"I remembered."

He eased back but didn't let go. "The fire? The night they died?"

"It wasn't random," I said. My voice sounded shredded. "They came for me. Not them. Me."

Milo sat beside me, slow and careful like I might break.

"You're sure?"

"I saw him. The one in the cloak. He told them to get me. Called it like a command. They weren't rogues, not in the feral sense. They were organized."

He exhaled hard. "Why would someone want you dead?"

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. "I don't know. But they were willing to kill my parents for it."

I swallowed hard. Guilt bloomed in my chest like it always did. "They told me to stay hidden. And I didn't. I ran. And I watched. And then I ran again."

"Lia, you were a kid. You survived. That doesn't make you weak. That doesn't make you wrong."

"It makes me a coward."

"No," he said firmly. "It makes you alive. And maybe it means your story's not over yet."

I turned to him. "What if there's something wrong with me? What if that's why? What if my wolf never came because of something they did, or something I am?"

"Then we figure it out."

"I don't even know where to start."

He reached for my hand. "Start with not doing this alone."

The wind shifted. A new scent hit my nose.

I stiffened. "Rogue."

Milo turned, his body going tense. "Where?"

I stood slowly. "Close. But not too close. Fresh. Minutes old."

"You want to go after it."

"I need to."

"No, Lia. Not alone."

"You know I have to. What if it's connected? What if they're still watching?"

He looked like he wanted to argue.

Then he just nodded. "Yell. If anything happens. I mean it."

I gave him a shaky smile. "Always."

Then I turned and walked into the woods.

Whatever was waiting? I wouldn't run this time.