Mistaken by fate ( the Lycans curse)

Lyra's POV

"You're hurtIng me," I whIsper, my voice hoarse and splintered.

Jack doesn't look at me.

"Good," he mutters, and yanks harder.

My knees slam Into jagged stone. Pain explodes up my legs, but It's nothIng compared to the fIre tearIng across my scalp as he drags me by the haIr. My skIn scrapes agaInst the cold floor-stone soaked In blood, filth, and ancIent cruelty.

I try not to cry. Goddess, I try.

But the tears come anyway-hot, angry, useless. They fall silently, mingling wIth the crimson dripping from my legs. I want to fight. To bite. To shift.

But I can't.

The silver shackles around my wrists burn wIth every breath I take, dulling my senses, robbIng me of strength. Of Identity. Of everything that made me wolf.

And through the haze of paIn, one question claws at the back of my mind:

How did I become a prisoner in the kingdom I once called home?

"I was just tryIng to find her. Just trying to bring her home before they did."

Three years. That's how long I've chased ghosts.

I've crossed abandoned villages, picked through burnt-out rogue dens, bribed traders, snuck through borders, even stood in the ruins of temples older than memory. All to find her.

Lira.

My twin. My mirror. My mistake.

I used to believe I'd feel her before I saw her-that some invisible thread would tug at my chest and say she's here. But the truth is quieter, crueler. Each dead end stung worse than the last.

Until I found Jack.

He said he knew something. Said he could help. And for a while, I believed him. I wanted to. His voice was steady, his eyes kind-too kind. I mistook his silence for safety. I mistook him for hope.

Now he's dragging me like garbage toward my execution.

And still-still-I think about her.

Where she is.

Who she's become.

We were born cursed.

Twin daughters of a she-wolf who committed the unthinkable-she loved a human. Bore his children. Us.

When the Council found out, they branded her a traitor to the Lycan bloodline. They burned her in front of us. Said it was law. Said it was tradition.

I was five. Lira didn't cry. I did.

That night, we ran. That night, we became shadows.

And they never stopped hunting us, not just because of what we were, but what we might become.

Two years ago, an entire noble Lycan family was wiped out. No survivors. A message left in blood:

We are the cursed daughters. We do not forget.

They think it was me.

But I know better.

It was her.

I came to the Lycan capital to find Lira before they do.

Instead, I walked into Jack's trap like a lamb to slaughter.

And now? I'm being handed off like a package to someone even worse.

"Let me go! Let me go!" my words echoed, hollow and helpless. But Jack only sneered, his laughter a cruel reminder of my vulnerability, of the fact that, without my wolf, i was powerless against him. He dragged me towards a waiting van.

A man stands by the van, tall and still as a tombstone. Thick beard. Braided silver beads. Scar slicing across one brow.

"Is she the one?" the stranger asked, his voice as harsh as sandpaper. He didn't look at me as he spoke, as though I were nothing more than a cargo to be hanged off. Jack nodded quickly, as if ridding himself of me was a prize all its own.

The man steps closer. Pulled me up with one swift, his grip unyielding. He looked me over, studying me with a detached sort of curiosity. "No wolf?" he questioned, turning to jack.

"Twenty and empty," Jack sneers. His tone dismissive, reminding them both that i was past the age to gain my wolf, and yet here i was, wolf less, magic less, little more than an ordinary werewolf in their eyes.

"She's a lycan?" The man asked

Jack nodded again, almost smirking. "The last lycan Luna"

And at that, the stranger's mouth curled into a chilling smile.

Lyra pov

"What dId I do to you?" I screamed, my voice hoarse, desperate for an answer, for some flicker of humanity In the face of someone I once called a friend.

But hIs face was stone.

No emotion. No regret. Not even a glance.

With chilling Indifference, he took a brIefcase from the braided man and turned hIs back to me. Just like that, I was already a dIstant memory.

I clenched my jaw, forcing down the scream rising In my throat. If I survIved thIs, I swore, I would come back for hIm. One day, I'd make hIm feel the weight of the betrayal he'd handed me.

Then came the bite of silver, unyielding, burning, snapping around my wrists and ankles. Each link drained what little strength I had left.

A man shoved me Into the back of a truck. Two strangers grabbed me, holding me down wIth unflinching strength. Their silence was colder than their grip.

I knew then, I'd survive. Somehow.

But the journey stretched on, endless, brutal. The farther we drove, the colder it got. I had no clothes to shield me. No wolf inside me to warm my blood. Only the sharp sting of aIr and metal, and the bruises blooming along my skin.

Soon, I was trembling. Uncontrollably.

Each shiver felt like a blade, slicing deeper.

One of the men seemed to take pity on me. He draped a filthy, tattered blanket over my shoulders. I clung to It despIte its stench, grateful for even the smallest comfort. My skIn burned from the wounds I'd collected, open, raw, and slow to heal without my wolf's power. I prayed silently they wouldn't fester or worsen.

At a rundown gas station, they yanked me from the truck and threw me onto the cold, cracked pavement.

The bearded man approached, reekIng of liquor, a bottle of vodka clutched In hIs hand. Before I could brace myself, he dumped the stinging liquid over my open wounds. It burned through me, sharp and hot. I bIt down hard on my lip, silencing the scream that clawed its way up.

"Can't take damaged goods to my Alphas," he barked, grinning. HIs teeth were yellow, rotting-seeds of decay in a mouth that mocked me.

I turned my head away, refusIng to give hIm the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

The other man stayed quiet, hIs face a mask of indifference, like this was just another errand. Another delivery.

After what felt like forever, they shoved me back into the truck and tossed the blanket over me again. And we kept going, deeper into the unknown. Further from everything I once knew. Into a darkness I couldn't yet name.

I didn't cry. I wouldn't.

Tears would make my fear real, give it shape, power. But inside, I was unraveling. Piece by piece, something in me was dying. Every mile we drove, dread sank deeper into my bones.

I had foolishly hoped that Lira's choices had nothing to do with me. That she could live her life, and I could live mine. But her actions had unleashed nightmares I never imagined, ones darker, colder than anything I had ever known.

I didn't know where they were taking me. But I felt the temperature drop, the air growing sharper, biting at my skin. We were heading north. I could feel it in the way the wind crept through the seams of the truck.

I'd never been to the North. Never walked its frozen forests or breathed its ice-laced winds. Only heard whispers-rumors meant to scare children into obedience.

Now I was here. Trapped. Half-naked, barefoot, bound in silver that burned like slow poison, seeping into my flesh. And forced to ride into a world I didn't understand.

My body throbbed with every jolt, dreams turning to fog. At some point, I must have slipped into a fitful sleep, only to wake again, shivering under that same filthy blanket. Hunger gnawed at me, hollow and sharp. My thoughts blurred.

Even dreams felt heavy. Suffocating.

I was paralyzed with fear. It crawled over me, suffocating, every time I imagined the possibility that I might never escape. The farther we traveled, the more that hope slipped away, fading like breath on glass.

A fever had begun to simmer beneath my skin, slow and relentless. Even without my wolf, I could feel it stirring, burning deeper by the second.

Then, at last, the truck jolted to a stop.

"Out," one of them barked.

I stumbled to the ground. Bare feet hit snow. A scream bloomed behind my ribs, but I held it back.

The bitter air sliced through me, sharper than anything I'd ever felt. Around us, the world was washed in the ghostly light of a full moon, its glow painting pale shadows across a lifeless landscape. Gone was the warmth of the greenery I once called home. In its place stood twisted, skeletal trees-barren, clawing at the night sky like broken fingers.

Then, without warning, someone yanked the chain around my wrist.

Hard.

I fell, crashing to the frozen ground. Ice bit into my knees as pain flared sharp and instant. I gasped, the cold stealing the sound before it could escape.

I looked up.

Swallowed hard.

The metallic taste of fear was thick in my mouth.

Lyra POV

"Get up, bitch!" the bearded man snarled.

I forced myself to rise, refusing to show him pain or fear. I met his eyes and held his gaze, silent and defiant, until he looked away. A flicker of irritation crossed his face.

He yanked the chain, dragging me like an animal. Every step was agony, my body screamed, my feet numb and burning against the ice. I was weak, barely holding on, but I kept moving. I had to.

We reached a large house. As the door opened, warmth rushed out and hit my frozen skin. It stung at first, but quickly dulled into something close to relief.

Inside, the space was bare, plain wooden furniture, dull tungsten lights, and a sterile, lifeless atmosphere. No comfort. No softness. Just cold walls that matched the man dragging me in.

Another tug. I stumbled.

My eyes dropped to the chain. Iron, except for the part wrapped around my wrists. That section was silver. Just enough to weaken me, not him. Intentional. Everything about this nightmare had been designed, precise, cruel, methodical.

He shoved me into a brightly lit room. I hit my knees.

Then he tore the filthy blanket from my shoulders.

Shame slammed into me like a wave of ice.

Raw. Unforgiving.

No one had ever seen me like this before. And now here I was, bare, exposed, my dignity stripped away by someone I once trusted.

Jack.

His betrayal haunted every step of this horror. He hadn't just handed me over-he'd paraded me through the pack, made sure they saw me, humiliated me. He could've carried me. He could've turned his back. Instead, he chose to destroy me.

And he succeeded.

My thoughts fractured as the door opened again.

Three men stepped into the room.

The air shifted thick with dominance, danger, and something darker. They were tall, powerful, almost unreal in their presence. Sculpted. Commanding. Impossible to ignore.

The first had raven-dark hair and eyes so intense, I felt stripped bare beneath them. His gaze wasn't just unsettling, it saw me.

And I had no armor left.

The second man was a dirty blonde, with sharp cheekbones and a cold, unreadable expression, the kind of silence that pulled you in, daring you to unravel it.

But it was the third who stole my breath.

Silver hair shimmered like spun moonlight, catching the light with every movement. His eyes glinted with something untamed and otherworldly. He wasn't just beautiful, he was unreal. Ethereal. And unforgettable.

All three were young, yet there was nothing boyish about them. They moved with a calm certainty, the kind that didn't need to prove power, it simply existed. These weren't ordinary Alphas.

They were Lycans.

And I was nothing but a prisoner in their eyes.

Their stares burned through me, assessing, dissecting. I could feel their judgment like cold iron against my skin. A fresh wave of dread coiled in my stomach as I wondered why Jack had sent me here... to them. I felt small. Trapped. Like prey beneath the gaze of three apex predators.

"So this is the girl," the silver-haired one murmured, sniffing the air before flashing a slow, chilling smile.

"Yes, Alpha!" the bearded man answered eagerly.

The three seated themselves, the silver haired one sat at the center, his presence impossible to ignore. All eyes were on me, and I felt stripped bare, every inch of me scrutinized.

"Do you recognize us?" the silver-haired one asked, voice calm but unreadable.

I tried to speak, but my throat burned-dry, tight, useless. I forced out a hoarse, "No."

He tilted his head, slightly surprised. "Get her some water."

A girl around my age stepped forward with a cup. The moment the cool liquid touched my lips, it was like being anchored. I wanted to gulp it down, but she held the cup firmly, guiding me to sip slowly. Every drop felt like a small mercy.

"Don't you remember us?" the blonde asked, his voice softer, almost... expectant.

I shook my head, searching their faces, but nothing surfaced. No memory. No flicker of familiarity.

"You don't look the same," the silver-haired one said. "But we met, ,briefly. Three years ago. Your boss, Roxy Blaze, introduced you."

I searched again. Nothing. I shook my head once more. Who the hell was Roxy Blaze.

A shadow crossed the face of the black-haired one. His jaw tightened.

"The slut's been with too many men to remember three she met briefly," he spat.

The words landed like a slap-sharp, undeserved, cruel.

The other two didn't stop him. They just looked at me, thinly veiled disgust in their eyes, as though I was filth dropped at their feet.

I wanted to scream the truth. But my path wasn't mine to choose. I was forced into this pain and now they blamed me for her.

I stayed silent.

Pride was all I had left, and I clung to it with bloodied hands.

"Give her a room," the silver-haired Alpha ordered.

The girl stepped forward again, gently taking my arm. I followed her without a word, my thoughts spiraling as I left the cold judgment of the Alphas behind.

But just before the door closed, I heard him murmur "she doesn't remember..... but she will