Chapter 4 : The Prince Arrives

KANE'S POV

Kane leaned back in the leather seat of the sleek black SUV as it sped down the winding forest road. The trees blurred past, casting shadows that stretched and shifted in the evening light, but his focus was elsewhere, a low, instinctual feeling thrumming beneath the surface. He could feel it - a strange pull, a silent hum at the edge of his awareness. Something was waiting for him at Blackstone, something more than just another formal visit to oversee pack relations.

Beside him, his commander and close friend, Thorne, studied him with a curious look.

“You look tense,” Thorne observed, a small grin lifting the corner of his mouth. “Rare for you. Worried about the Blackstone Pack?”

Kane gave a low chuckle, his eyes still fixed out the window. “Not worried. Just… prepared.”

Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Prepared? This pack is known for its devotion to you and your father. They’re on their best behavior, eager to stay in our good graces.”

“That’s exactly what bothers me,” Kane muttered. “It’s all too eager, too controlled. The reports from Blackstone mention loyalty, yes, but there’s something beneath it. Some… unease.”

“Think they’re hiding something?” Thorne asked, his voice dropping, eyes sharpening with sudden seriousness.

Kane nodded. “I can feel it. And I don’t plan on leaving until I find out what it is.”

Thorne looked ahead, as if mentally preparing for what lay ahead. “Well, I’ve got your back. Let’s see what secrets the Blackstone Pack holds, then.”

As they approached the pack house, Kane’s sharp eyes took in the looming structure of the Blackstone mansion. It was large, formidable, its stone walls framed by tall, ancient trees that created an eerie canopy around it. The pack house sat high on a hill, almost hidden, as if it wanted to keep its secrets close.

When the car pulled up to the front entrance, a formal welcome party was already assembled outside, waiting for him. Luna Regina stood at the forefront, tall and poised, her face framed by a rigid smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Beside her was her mate, Alpha Caden, a muscular man whose presence was both commanding and subdued - a man who once held power but now, Kane suspected, leaned heavily on appearances.

“Your Highness,” Alpha Caden said with a deep bow, his voice resonating with practiced reverence. “It is an honor to welcome you to Blackstone.”

Luna Regina inclined her head, eyes flickering with what looked like a mixture of admiration and calculation. “We are most honored, Prince Kane. Blackstone has awaited your visit eagerly.”

Kane gave a polite nod, noting the sharp way Regina’s gaze assessed him, as if already plotting out his movements. “Thank you, Alpha Caden, Luna Regina. I am here on behalf of the crown, and my visit serves to strengthen the bond between your pack and the Lycans. We are grateful for your hospitality.”

Behind the Luna and Alpha stood their two children. Kane’s eyes landed first on Aiden, the future Alpha - a tall, broad-shouldered young man with piercing eyes, holding his chin high with an arrogance that would have put seasoned warriors to shame. His gaze was steady, sizing up Kane with what might have been silent challenge.

Beside Aiden stood his sister, Seraphine, looking every bit the part of a future Luna - elegant, beautiful, her honey-blond hair cascading over her shoulders. But her smile, perfectly sweet, held a sharpness that couldn’t be hidden, as if a simmering rage lay beneath it. Kane sensed in her a strange restlessness, an almost predatory intensity.

As they bowed, Seraphine met his gaze, a coy smile playing on her lips, her eyes lingering a beat too long. Kane kept his expression neutral, dismissing the silent flirtation.

“Welcome, Prince Kane,” Seraphine said with an edge of boldness in her voice, her eyes glittering. “It’s truly a pleasure to have you here with us.”

Kane’s nod was curt as he turned his attention back to Alpha Caden. “I look forward to seeing your pack’s strength and meeting your warriors. I expect a tour after the dinner.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Anything you wish,” Caden replied, gesturing for Kane to follow them inside.

As they moved through the grand entrance, the pack house was filled with the low murmur of conversation, as the Blackstone Pack’s members assembled in the main hall to welcome the Prince. The walls were adorned with heavy tapestries and dimly lit chandeliers, casting long shadows across the faces of those who watched with curious, expectant eyes.

The formalities began with Alpha Caden giving a speech, praising the alliance between the packs and the Lycans, and promising their continued loyalty. Kane’s attention drifted as Caden’s voice droned on, though he maintained an expression of polite interest.

Finally, the speech ended, and the formal greetings shifted into a grand dinner. Kane found himself seated at the head table with Alpha Caden, Luna Regina, and their children, servants flitting around to bring course after course. But as Kane sampled the food, his mind was elsewhere, a strange sense building within him - an odd awareness, as if he was being drawn to something, or someone.

Halfway through the meal, he felt it: a faint, tantalizing scent that cut through the crowded room, faint but unmistakable. A scent that was both foreign and familiar, earthy and soothing, like lavender fields on a rainy night. It was alluring, enchanting, and it brushed against his senses like a warm embrace, making his entire being tense with recognition.

Kane inhaled sharply, feeling a low rumble of his wolf stirring beneath the surface. He shot a glance around the room, his eyes scanning the crowd, looking for the source of that intoxicating scent. But the pack members mingling around them were caught up in the revelry, unaware of the Prince’s sudden distraction.

Beside him, Thorne noticed his shift in focus. “Kane? What’s wrong?”

Kane’s gaze remained fixed on the far side of the hall, his eyes narrowing. “Do you smell that?” he murmured, his voice a low growl.

Thorne lifted his head slightly, inhaling. “Lavender, I think. Subtle, but… it’s there. Strange scent for a werewolf.”

Kane clenched his jaw, his heart beating faster as he struggled to place the feeling churning within him. He knew it was more than just a pleasant scent; it was instinct, primal and insistent. He could feel the pull of a bond, one that should have been dormant but now sparked to life, demanding his attention.

He looked across the hall, where the doors led out to the gardens. The scent seemed to drift from there, faint but steady, as though whoever it belonged to was nearby.

“Excuse me,” he said abruptly, standing from the table.

Alpha Caden blinked in surprise. “Your Highness, is everything alright?”

Kane’s expression was unreadable. “Just taking a moment. Enjoy the festivities.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed towards the doors, Thorne following closely behind. Kane pushed through the large wooden doors and stepped out into the cool night air, taking a deep breath, the scent of lavender hitting him with full force.

“Someone’s here, Thorne,” Kane murmured, his voice laced with a tension that surprised even him. “Someone I… need to find.”

Thorne frowned, catching the seriousness in his Prince’s gaze. “You don’t think…”

“I don’t know what to think,” Kane replied, his voice low, controlled. “But this scent… it’s pulling at me. I feel a connection to it.”

They moved through the dimly lit gardens, the towering trees casting long shadows that danced under the silver glow of the moon. The scent grew stronger with each step, leading him deeper into the garden, toward a small, unused path that led away from the main grounds.

Kane stopped, his breath coming in steady but heavy, his pulse quickening. He could feel his wolf’s anticipation, a gnawing certainty that lay just beneath the surface. He had come here with an uneasy feeling, a sense that something awaited him in Blackstone. And now, he knew it was true.

“Whoever this is,” Kane murmured, “his close.”

Thorne placed a hand on his shoulder, his gaze steady. “Whatever we’re dealing with, we’ll face it together. But be careful, Kane. You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

Kane nodded, his eyes never leaving the path ahead, where the faint scent lingered, calling to him like a whisper in the dark.

And as he took another step forward, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he had never anticipated.

Kane stopped short as a dark patch caught his eye, a shadow on the otherwise pristine stone pathway of the garden. He knelt, running a gloved hand over it, his fingers coming away wet and dark.

Blood.

It was smeared across the stones, a thick, glistening trail that led farther into the shadows. His stomach tightened, a wave of anger flaring to life within him.

“Kane?” Thorne’s voice was sharp, his tone thick with concern as he crouched beside him. “Is that..”

“Yes.” Kane’s voice was tight, barely controlled as he studied the spots of blood. They were fresh, their faint metallic scent merging with that lavender sweetness that still lingered on the air.

He looked up, his gaze darkening as he traced the trail with his eyes, watching as it led toward the side of the pack house, winding its way toward a set of stairs that disappeared beneath the mansion.

“This blood isn’t from some animal.” Kane’s voice was low, dangerous, each word edged with fury. “Someone… someone in this pack is hurt.”

Thorne glanced down at the dark streaks, his jaw clenching. “You don’t think it’s a guest, do you?”

“No.” Kane straightened, his fists clenching as he looked toward the cellar entrance. “I think it’s someone they don’t want anyone to know about.”

The two men shared a look, understanding and anger passing between them. Without another word, they followed the blood trail, stepping silently down the narrow stone stairs that led into the cold, dark underbelly of the Blackstone pack house. The walls grew damp, moss clinging to the stones, and a faint smell of mildew mixed with the now-overpowering scent of blood.

The deeper they went, the heavier the lavender scent became, wrapping around Kane’s senses, pulling at him, demanding he find its source. His anger sharpened with every step, a cold fury building in his chest as he realized that someone - whoever it was - was in pain, suffering, and hidden away like a dirty secret.

When they reached the end of the corridor, they came to a heavy wooden door. Blood smeared the handle and streaked down the frame, as though someone had been dragged or thrown inside. Kane’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing as he considered what kind of cruelty could drive a pack to treat one of their own like this.

Kane reached for the door, and Thorne’s hand came up, readying himself in case of danger. Kane nodded, giving Thorne a silent signal to stay alert, then pushed the door open.

The smell of blood hit them first, thick and suffocating. But beneath it, even stronger now, was that haunting scent of lavender. Kane’s pulse quickened, a strange protectiveness rising up within him, fierce and instinctual. His wolf stirred, uneasy and alert.

In the far corner of the dark room lay a figure, curled on the cold stone floor, shivering, broken. Her body was covered in dark, wet patches where blood had seeped through tattered clothing, and her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, as if to shield against the cold that seemed to seep from the very walls. Her hair was tangled, streaked with dirt and blood, but even in her weakened state, she was unmistakable.

The girl was small, fragile, her breathing shallow and unsteady. Kane’s throat tightened as he looked at her, recognizing something in the shape of her, in the scent that lingered in the air around her like a forgotten melody.

She was the source of the lavender. " Mate. " Kane's Lycan growled.

“Oh, gods…” Thorne whispered, his face a mask of horror as he took in her injuries. “What have they done to her?”

Kane took a slow, controlled breath, but it did nothing to contain the fury rising within him. His gaze moved over her form, taking in the fresh wounds, the bruises blooming across her skin, the tattered remnants of a dress that was soaked through with blood. His hands clenched at his sides, his muscles taut with rage.

“Who are you?” he murmured, his voice thick, low, but he already knew the answer. His wolf knew it, too - she was his. His second chance mate. And they’d treated her like this.

The girl stirred at the sound of his voice, her eyelids fluttering weakly as she forced herself to look up. Her eyes met his, dull with pain but filled with a depth of despair that hit him like a physical blow. She barely seemed aware of her surroundings, her consciousness fading in and out as she clung to the edge of awareness.

Kane took a step closer, his heart pounding, feeling the undeniable pull of the mate bond, a connection he’d thought long dead and forgotten. Yet here she was, barely alive, broken by those who should have protected her. He knelt beside her, his voice barely above a whisper, his anger now tempered by a gentleness he hadn’t known he possessed.

“What’s your name?” he asked softly, his eyes searching her face.

She opened her mouth, struggling to speak, but the effort was too much. She let out a soft, broken sigh, her head dropping as she sank back into the darkness.

“Lyra,” Thorne murmured, his eyes widening. “That’s the pack slave… the one rumored to be the daughter of traitors.”

Kane’s jaw tightened. So that’s how they justified this cruelty, he thought, his rage boiling over. “Traitor’s daughter or not, she’s a living being, and their treatment of her is unforgivable. And she is my mate.” His voice was rough, edged with a barely controlled fury. “Get the healer,” he ordered Thorne. “And tell them to bring supplies, now. She’s not spending another moment in this hell.”

Thorne nodded and turned, but Kane didn’t move. His hand hovered near her, hesitating, unsure if she could bear even the slightest touch. Her breath was shallow, labored, and with each painful rise and fall of her chest, his resolve hardened. She was barely clinging to life, but she was still here. And he would ensure that she never suffered like this again.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered, as if promising both her and himself. “You’re safe now.”

For a moment, her eyelids flickered, and Kane thought he saw a hint of understanding in her gaze, a flicker of relief. But then she fell back into unconsciousness, her breathing steadying just enough to assure him she was still alive.

Moments later, Thorne returned with the healer in tow, who looked at Lyra with wide, horrified eyes.

“She’s in bad shape, Your Highness,” the healer whispered, bending down to check Lyra’s pulse and examine her wounds. “But she’s strong -if we act quickly, she may pull through.”

“Do whatever you need to,” Kane ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “And make it fast.”

The healer nodded, working quickly, cleaning her wounds with trembling hands, applying salves and bandages, wrapping her cuts with care. Each small action only heightened Kane’s anger as he watched the healer attend to injuries that should never have been inflicted.

When the healer finally looked up, her expression was one of grave concern. “She’s stable for now, but she’ll need days, perhaps weeks, to fully recover. I’ve done what I can to stop the bleeding and ease her pain, but… she shouldn’t stay here.”

Kane met her gaze, his own steely. “She won’t.”

With a final, cold look around the dark, damp cellar, Kane gently lifted Lyra into his arms, cradling her as though she were made of glass. The mate bond flared to life within him, filling him with both a fierce protectiveness and a smoldering fury. His wolf raged within, furious at her suffering, at the pack that had treated her like this.

As he carried her out of the darkness and back into the night, Kane made a silent vow. Whoever was responsible for her pain, whoever had treated her like she was worthless -they would pay. He’d ensure that no one would ever harm her again.

And when she opened her eyes, he’d make sure she knew that she was no longer alone.