5

"No.No.No."

Dread tore through Azzurra like a wildfire, vicious and all-consuming, igniting every nerve, locking up her limbs, and leaving her heart pounding in paralyzed fear.

Why him?

Of all the monsters in this damned world, why the Lycan King?

Sweat beaded on her brow as the Mistress straightened with glee and seized her arm.

“This is the one, my King,” the woman said sweetly. “Exactly what you asked for.”

“Pet.”

The word rolled out from the shadows, low and grating, rumbling with quiet command.

Azzurra’s throat tightened. Her chin trembled. That voice carried power cold, sharp, and absolute.

“Kneel,” the King ordered, unseen but very much present.

Azzurra inhaled shakily. So this was it the moment her story ended. Maybe she wouldn’t regret it, not after making their lives hell for so long. But still, this?

She didn’t deserve this.

“No,” she whispered or maybe she roared drawing on the last ounce of defiance left in her.

A small, amused curve tugged at the King's lips in the dark.

“I’ll take her,” he said, and the Mistress lit up like a Christmas tree, clasping her hands in delight.

She gestured, and a worker stepped forward, holding a black fur collar.

Azzurra stood frozen, blood draining from her face. Her eyes brimmed with tears that refused to fall.

He was supposed to reject her. Order her death. Punish her for disrespect. Not... this.

Her thoughts reeled as the worker latched the collar tightly around her throat, firm and final, ensuring she couldn’t possibly wriggle free.

Her hands flew up instinctively, trying to claw it off.

The Mistress grabbed the leash and yanked her harshly down the stage and out of the hall. Azzurra barely registered the sea of dark gazes trailing her the audience, the monsters.

Once outside, the Mistress began unlocking her shackles. Azzurra rubbed her wrists and scanned frantically for an escape route.

But then she saw him.

Tall. Clad in royal furs and adorned with jewels.

The Lycan King.

Her stomach twisted violently.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

She was supposed to end up with a basic, cruel werewolf not him.

Not the most dangerous being alive.

She had to run. Now.

“Here, sire,” the Mistress cooed, offering the leash with reverence.

But Azzurra made a snap decision.

She snatched the leash from her hand and took off, heels clacking in panic.

She barely made it four strides before the Royal Guards closed in, tackling her like prey. She thrashed wildly as they dragged her back toward the King.

“Let me go, you bastards!” she screamed, writhing in their iron grip.

The King calmly extended a cheque. The Mistress, smiling with delight, handed him a file Azzurra's file.

“Please, shop with us again, sire,” she said with a bow, throwing Azzurra a smug, victorious glance.

“Let me go!” she screamed again and then he turned.

The King.

And just like that, the scream caught in her throat.

His eyes unreadable. Cold. Calm. Focused.

Why had he bought her? She wasn’t the pretty, obedient kind. She wasn’t ideal. Unless…

Unless he was a true sadist. A psychotic one.

“Release the lady,” the King said.

Lady?

Azzurra blinked.

Had she just… died? Was this some twisted afterlife?

The guards obeyed instantly. One of them stepped forward with a thick fur coat exquisite and heavy and draped it carefully over her trembling frame.

Another handed the leash to the King, who accepted it and began walking toward the exit.

A gust of wind swept past her, chilling her to the bone.

She was too stunned to react, too confused to scream again.

She followed him in silence. What else could she do? Ten guards surrounded them, all massive, expressionless, and lethal.

A long black limousine pulled up. The King entered, and with the leash attached, she had no choice but to follow.

The inside of the car was luxurious and quiet. She sat across from him, swallowed hard, and adjusted the coat tightly around her.

Then he spoke. “Shall I give you a name?”

Her head jerked up alarmed.

Looking directly at a Lycan was forbidden. A death sentence.

Why was he so… calm?

It made her more uneasy than if he’d been brutal.

“I already have one,” she murmured, dropping her gaze.

She didn’t know what to do. She could push harder insult him, get herself killed.

Or she could play it carefully, get answers, and look for a way out.

Find a way to survive.

Eventually, she’d escape. The Ember Rebellion would take her in the rebel humans who still fought back, who believed in freedom. She’d make it to them, one way or another.

“What’s your name, then?” he asked.

“Azzurra,” she whispered.

The King gave a single approving nod.

She tugged at the collar. It was choking her. Each breath scraped her throat.

Then he leaned forward, and she froze.

Without a word, he loosened the collar slightly, re-secured the digital lock, and sat back.

She clutched the coat like a shield.

“Can I ask a question?” she ventured cautiously.

He nodded, almost… amused.

“Why did you buy me?”

It still felt like a dream. Or a nightmare. She was speaking to him. The Lycan King. The most feared being on the continent.

He looked pleased that she’d asked.

“I bought you as a trial,” he said.

She blinked. “A trial…?”

“For my sons,” he clarified smoothly.

Her heart stalled. “I… I don’t understand.”

He smiled gently. But his next words made her blood run cold.

“Whichever of my sons kills you first,” he said, “loses the right to become my successor.”