Chapter 3

The morning light sliced through the towering windows of my study, casting fractured reflections across the polished floor. I stood at the edge of the room, one hand gripping the cold sill, my eyes trained on the sprawling grounds outside. The sight of it—a kingdom built from blood, sweat, and unwavering dominance—should have brought satisfaction. Today, it didn’t.  

Behind me, the soft shuffle of footsteps broke the silence. I didn’t have to turn to know it was Drusilla. Her presence was like the faint brush of wind: gentle, yet impossible to ignore.  

“What do you see?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but the impatience was real.  

She hesitated, as she always did. "It doesn’t work like that, my king,” she replied, her words slow and deliberate.  

“Make it work,” I snapped, turning just enough to catch her eyes—pale, stormy gray that seemed to pierce through me.  

Drusilla sighed, stepping closer until she stood beside me. She peered out the window, though I doubted she saw the view. “Time is not on your side,” she murmured, almost as if speaking to herself.  

“How much?” My words were a growl.  

“A fortnight at most,” she said after a pause. “Perhaps less.”  

Her tone was gentle, but the weight of her words struck me like a blow. I forced a humorless chuckle, trying to mask the anger that threatened to boil over. “The great Lycan King, brought low by fate and vague predictions.”  

Drusilla flinched but said nothing. Her silence only fueled my irritation.  

“Enough of this,” I muttered. “I’ll go. But don’t expect miracles.”  

Her face softened, and for a fleeting moment, relief glimmered in her eyes. “You’ll understand when you see it,” she said simply.  

---

An hour later, I was in the backseat of one of my cars, the smooth hum of the engine barely registering as Mateo drove us down a forest road. Drusilla sat beside me, unnervingly quiet.  

Mateo glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “What are we looking for, my king?”  

I clenched my jaw before answering, my voice cold. “An anchor.”  

His hands jerked slightly on the wheel, and the car swerved before he corrected course.  

“An anchor?” he repeated, his voice low with disbelief. “I thought you didn’t believe in—”  

“I don’t have time for debates,” I cut him off, glaring at his reflection.  

The silence returned, thick and oppressive, broken only by the occasional crunch of gravel beneath the tires.  

As we neared the outskirts of the forest, a strange sensation gripped me. My chest tightened, and a sharp, unfamiliar ache radiated through me. It was as though something—or someone—was pulling at the very essence of me.  

“Stop the car,” I ordered, my voice tight.  

Mateo hesitated but obeyed, bringing the vehicle to a smooth halt. I pushed open the door and stepped out, the cool forest air hitting me like a slap. Leaning against the car, I struggled to catch my breath.  

“My king?” Mateo’s voice was edged with concern as he approached.  

I waved him off, trying to steady myself. “I’m fine.”  

Drusilla’s gaze lingered on me, her expression unreadable. “We’re close,” she said softly.  

---

Minutes later, we arrived at a school on the edge of the forest. A modest building, unimpressive by any standard. Yet as we approached, that same unbearable pull returned, stronger than before.  

Inside the dean’s office, I ignored the man’s nervous chatter, my attention drawn to the scene unfolding outside the window. Mateo had a boy—scrawny, glasses askew—by the throat. Typical. Mateo’s sense of authority often veered into overkill.  

Then I saw her.  

A girl stepped forward from the crowd, her frame small but her stance defiant. Her voice was muffled through the glass, but her intent was clear as she swung her backpack at Mateo, a mix of frustration and courage written on her face.  

“Looks like you’ve met your match,” I said to Mateo through the mind link, smirking as I watched the scene unfold.  

“She’s lucky I don’t break her,” he shot back, though there was a begrudging respect in his tone.  

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. My focus was entirely on the girl. There was something about her—something that tugged at my very core.  

When she adjusted her backpack and her hood slipped, revealing her face, it hit me like a punch to the gut.  

My heart clenched painfully, the ache from earlier returning tenfold. But with it came an overwhelming sense of recognition, as if every fiber of my being knew her.  

“Let him go,” I commanded Mateo through the link, my voice leaving no room for argument.  

He obeyed, albeit reluctantly, and the girl moved quickly to help the boy. Her hands were gentle, but her movements were purposeful. And then her eyes met mine.  

Time seemed to stop.  

Her gaze was fierce, unyielding, and yet there was an innocence to it—a sharp contrast to the cold, calculating world I’d grown accustomed to.  

As she turned to leave, the pull inside me grew almost unbearable. Every instinct screamed at me to follow her, to claim her, to never let her out of my sight.  

Drusilla’s voice broke through the fog. “Do you understand now, my king?”  

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t.  

For the first time in my life, the great Lycan King was rendered utterly speechless. And for the first time, I truly feared what fate had in store for me.