Thorne's POV
The claiming mark on Rowena's throat is still glowing when she asks the question that could destroy everything.
"Do I have to kill you?"
Her violet eyes are wide with shock, her small body trembling. The mate bond between us pulses with her fear—I can feel it like my own heartbeat.
My Lycan snarls inside me. Protect mate! She would never hurt us!
But the old laws don't care about what mates want. They only care about power and bloodlines.
"The Crown Right law is ancient," I say carefully, trying to keep my voice calm even though my world is crumbling. "It hasn't been invoked in over two hundred years. Most Lycans think it's just a legend."
"But it's real?" Rowena's voice cracks. "Dashiell wasn't lying?"
I want to lie to her. Want to tell her everything will be fine.
But she deserves the truth.
"Yes. It's real." I run a hand through my hair, my mind racing. "The Hartwell bloodline was the original Lycan royal family. They ruled for a thousand years before my ancestors challenged them and won. But the Hartwells never gave up their Crown Right—the legal ability to challenge the throne through combat."
"So my mother could have challenged your father?"
"Yes. But she chose not to." I meet Rowena's eyes. "She married a Hartwell and had you. She kept her bloodline alive but stayed out of Lycan politics. Until someone decided that wasn't good enough."
Rowena sways on her feet, and I move to steady her. The moment I touch her arm, the mate bond flares—warm and strong and right.
But also dangerous. Deadly dangerous.
"I don't understand," Rowena whispers. "Why would the law require me to challenge you or die? That makes no sense."
"It's supposed to prevent exactly what just happened—a Lycan King claiming a Crown Right holder as their mate to neutralize the threat." I help her sit in a chair before she collapses. "The old kings used to mate Crown Right females and then lock them away, eliminating their ability to challenge the throne without technically killing them."
"That's horrible."
"Yes. So the Crown Right families demanded a law: any king who mates a Crown Right holder must face them in combat within one year, or the holder is executed as a traitor to their bloodline." I kneel in front of her chair, bringing myself to her eye level. "It forces the king to either prove he's worthy of the throne or die trying."
Rowena's face goes pale. "Within one year?"
"From the moment your Lycan bloodline fully matures. Which, according to Isolde, will happen in weeks, not months."
"So I have weeks to prepare to fight you to the death?" Her laugh is broken. "I can barely control my small omega wolf! How am I supposed to challenge a Lycan King?"
My Lycan howls in protest. We would never fight our mate! Never!
But the law doesn't care what we want.
"There might be a way around this," I say, even though I'm not sure there is. "The old texts mention exceptions, loopholes—"
"Or I could just leave." Rowena's voice is quiet but firm. "Break the mate bond. Run somewhere far away where the Crown Right doesn't matter."
Pain lances through my chest at the thought. "Breaking a completed mate bond would kill you. And me."
"Then reject me like Callister did. At least one of us would survive."
"No." The word comes out as a growl. My Lycan surges forward, furious at the suggestion. "I won't reject you. I won't lose another mate."
Rowena's eyes flash with anger. "You don't get to decide that! This is my life! My choice!"
"And what about my choice?" I stand, my hands clenched into fists. "I've spent five years dead inside after Elena died. Five years of guilt over your parents. Five years of wondering if I deserve to live at all. And then you show up—my second-chance mate—and you want me to just let you go?"
"I want to not have to kill you!" Rowena's shouting now, tears streaming down her face. "I want to not be forced into some ancient law that makes me choose between murdering my mate or being executed! I want—" Her voice breaks. "I want one thing in my life to not be a disaster!"
The throne room is silent except for her sobs.
I move without thinking, pulling her into my arms. She fights for a second, then collapses against my chest, crying so hard her whole body shakes.
The mate bond wraps around us both, and I can feel everything she's feeling—the fear, the rage, the overwhelming grief of losing everyone she trusted in one night.
"I'm sorry," I murmur into her hair. "I'm so sorry. For your parents. For this situation. For everything."
"Sorry doesn't fix it," she hiccups against my chest.
"I know."
We stand there for what feels like forever, just holding each other while the weight of the Crown Right law presses down on us.
Finally, Kieran clears his throat from the doorway. I'd forgotten he was still here.
"Hate to interrupt the moment," he says carefully, "but we have another problem."
"Of course we do," I mutter. "What now?"
"Dashiell didn't just bring the Council. He brought documents." Kieran holds up a stack of papers. "Legal claims to Rowena's inheritance."
Rowena pulls away from me, wiping her eyes. "What inheritance?"
"The Hartwell territories. The Hartwell fortune. Everything your parents owned when they died." Kieran's expression is grim. "Dashiell's been acting as guardian of your assets since you were seven. But now that you're nineteen and mated, legal control transfers to you."
"How much are we talking about?" I ask.
"Three territories. Two billion in assets. And—" Kieran pauses dramatically, "—the Hartwell Lycan Archives."
My blood runs cold. "The Archives still exist?"
"What's the Archives?" Rowena looks between us, confused.
"The complete written history of the Lycan royal families," I explain. "Battle strategies. Bloodline secrets. Political alliances going back a thousand years. Your family guarded them for generations. When your parents died, everyone assumed the Archives burned in the fire."
"But they didn't," Kieran says. "According to these documents, they're in a secured vault. Location unknown. And access requires Hartwell blood."
Rowena's eyes widen. "My blood?"
"Yes. Which means whoever wants those Archives has been very patient waiting for you to come of age." Kieran sets the papers down. "And I'm betting that's the real reason Dashiell kept you alive and weak all these years."
"He was waiting for me to turn nineteen so he could access my inheritance," Rowena says slowly. "That's why he poisoned me just enough to keep me weak but not enough to kill me."
"Exactly. And now that you're mated to Thorne and out of his control—"
The windows explode inward.
Glass rains down as wolves pour through the broken openings—at least twenty of them, moving with military precision.
"Protect the queen!" I roar, shifting to Lycan form instantly.
Kieran shifts too, his wolf form massive and battle-ready. My guards flood into the throne room, but the attackers are already inside.
I grab Rowena and pull her behind me as a gray wolf lunges at us. I catch it mid-air, my Lycan strength crushing it easily.
But there are too many. They're not trying to fight—they're trying to reach Rowena.
"They want her alive!" Kieran shouts, taking down two wolves at once. "It's a kidnapping attempt!"
A black wolf breaks through our defenses, heading straight for Rowena. She shifts to her small silver-white wolf and dodges, but she's too weak from the rejection poison.
The black wolf's jaws close around her throat—
And then something impossible happens.
Rowena's wolf grows.
Right before my eyes, she doubles in size. Her silver-white fur blazes with light. Her eyes turn pure gold—Lycan gold.
She tears the black wolf's throat out with one savage bite.
Every wolf in the room freezes, staring at her.
Because Rowena isn't a small omega wolf anymore.
She's a full Lycan. Powerful. Deadly. Beautiful.
Her Lycan form turns to me, and I see intelligence in those golden eyes—she's still Rowena, still in control.
But she's also something more now.
The attackers flee, scrambling back through the broken windows. My guards chase them, but I can't move.
I'm staring at my mate—at the Hartwell Lycan Queen who just awakened weeks earlier than she should have.
Rowena shifts back to human form, naked and covered in blood that isn't hers. She looks at her hands, at the dead wolf at her feet.
"What just happened?" she whispers.
Isolde appears in the doorway, her face pale.
"Her bloodline fully matured," the healer says shakily. "The threat to her life triggered an emergency awakening. She's not a developing Lycan anymore. She's complete."
My Lycan roars in pride. Our mate is powerful! Our queen!
But my human side knows what this means.
"How long?" I ask Isolde quietly.
The healer meets my eyes with sympathy.
"The Crown Right law activates the moment a Hartwell Lycan reaches full maturity. She has exactly one year from tonight to challenge you for the throne." Isolde pauses. "Or be executed for treason."
Rowena's legs give out. I catch her before she hits the ground.
"One year," she breathes, looking up at me with terrified golden eyes. "I have one year before I have to try to kill you."
I hold her close, feeling our mate bond pulse between us—strong and perfect and doomed.
"Then we have one year to find another way," I promise.
But even as I say it, I know the truth.
There is no other way.
In exactly one year, Rowena and I will face each other in combat.
And only one of us will survive.