I am Lucy Drakonia. Daughter of Alpha King Karon of Virelan.

Born of ancient royal blood. Raised to inherit a throne of fire. Trained to command the Western host of the Dominion of Lykara.

At least, that was the plan.

Then I turned sixteen. And no wolf came. No gifts. A taboo for one born of royal blood.

Overnight, I became an embarrassment. A curse. A defect whispered about in corridors and mocked behind my back. My pack tolerated me only as long as my bloodline remained useful.

Still, I thought I would be fine.

I had Doyle after all. My chosen mate. My first love. 

Gods, scratch that. I had a cheating bastard, who betrayed me in the meanest way possible.

Worse, my unborn child was taken from me the same day.

And before the blood on the floor had even dried, my own father cast me out.

So really, I'm just Lucy Drakonia, the wolfless princess. The discarded heir. The girl the wolves rejected.

Having no choice, I disappear into the human world and spend months building a quiet life far away from pack cruelty.

However, the peace doesn’t last. 

On my nineteenth birthday, something strange awakens within me. Stranger creatures begin hunting me. The Supreme Alpha's cursed son walks into my life. And a mark sleeping beneath my skin reveals a truth no priest or king ever saw coming.

Apparently, destiny doesn't belong to wolves alone.

Now packs, kingdoms, and ancient forces are all coming for me—including the very people who once threw me away. 

Which is ironic, really.

Because whatever stole my wolf all those years ago… was never meant to kneel.

And neither was I. 
Not when I am the key to a power older than the Dominion of Lykara itself.

Ryker's voice is the first thing I'm aware of, guttural and utterly without patience, dragging me up out of a much needed sleep like a hook through water. 


'Wake up, wake up, something's wrong, she's—'


I'm sitting upright before he even finishes the thought, my heart already slamming against my ribs, the room dark and silent around me in a way that feels obscene given the noise clawing through my own chest. 


For one disoriented second I think I've simply dreamed the sensation.


Then it comes again, sharper, and I feel it—not sound, not scent exactly, but something deeper, threaded straight through the bond itself.


"I'm going," I mutter aloud, to no one, to him, already yanking a shirt over my head without bothering to fasten it, not sparing a second glance at my own disheveled state.


Chapter 85 - Not Alone