Betraying My True Mate for His Killer's Embrace

The Lycan King’s pack had suffered a crushing defeat, forced to offer tribute of wealth and women to appease their enemies.

The Alpha of the rival pack gripped my waist, sneering that women from our pack were as fragile as kittens, their tears weak and pitiful.

He didn’t know that even a kitten could rip out a throat when pushed to its limits.

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After weeks of travel, the delegation sent to negotiate peace finally arrived at the territory of the rival pack.

The women, torn from their homes and families, wept bitterly, their cries echoing through the forest.

A young girl beside me clung to my sleeve, tears streaming down her face. “Antonella,” she whimpered, “aren’t you afraid?”

In the distance, the sound of approaching wolves reached my ears. I stared at the figure leading the pack, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Of course I am.”

Afraid that I wouldn’t kill enough to avenge my mate.

The pack stopped before us, Apollo Duncan, the Lycan King, at the forefront. His aura was overwhelming, a force of nature that demanded submission.

“These are the women from the Elysian Pack?” he asked, his voice cold and indifferent.

“Yes, King. Many didn’t survive the journey. There are ninety-six left.”

Apollo nodded dismissively, as if the lives of these women mattered less than the livestock in his territory. “Let the warriors choose. Whoever they want can be taken to their dens.”

He turned to leave, but then paused, his sharp gaze locking onto me.

I was dressed in tattered clothes, my body marked with fresh welts and bruises. My hands, rough and cracked, reached out and grasped the hem of his jacket.

The guards shouted, raising their whips, but I didn’t flinch. I only tightened my grip, my eyes pleading.

Apollo unsheathed his claws, tilting my chin up with their sharp, bloodstained tips. “What do you want?”

I tilted my head back, exposing my neck to his predatory gaze. “You’re injured, King. You’re bleeding.”

He glanced at the deep cut on his arm, and I took the opportunity to crawl closer, my voice soft and soothing. “Let me tend to your wound.”

He studied me for a moment before retracting his claws and mounting his wolf. “Follow me.”

Apollo’s den was the largest in the territory, its floor covered in thick furs.

I knelt beside him, carefully cleaning his wound with a soft cloth. “This might hurt, King,” I whispered.

He remained silent, his piercing eyes watching my every move.

I pretended not to notice, focusing on wrapping the bandage around his arm, my hair brushing against his skin as I leaned in.

“It’s done,” I said, offering a small smile.

In an instant, his hand was around my throat, squeezing with brutal force.

“Are you a spy sent by the Elysian Pack?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

I clawed at his hand, but it was like trying to move a mountain. I shook my head desperately, tears streaming down