Chapter 3

I am now a couple of kilometers away from Green Peaks, the village where I was born—the pack I once thought would be my family. But fate is a cruel, chaotic thing. I had believed I would fit in, that they would understand my limitations, but I was wrong. I trusted people, and in the end, I lost.

Aleksandr's self-centered expression before he left the tower remains vivid in my mind, replaying like a haunting memory. The way he looked, stoic and emotionless as he rejected me as his Luna just hours ago, is etched into my brain. I'd give anything to erase it. I wish this night had never happened, but in truth, it’s just another in the long line of awful nights in my life. I should be used to it by now, but I can't be. I crave acceptance—someone who will embrace me, flaws and all. I want to fit in, to be appreciated, liked, and loved.

I left a letter for Yevgeniy and Anna, telling them I’d gone to find myself. It’s only half true. Tears blurred my vision as I wrote it, torn by the tangled mess that is my life. I hope Yevgeniy doesn’t worry or come looking for me because their selfish Alpha made it clear he doesn’t want me back. If my fated mate will live a better life without me, then I’ll do whatever it takes not to disappoint him, even if it leaves me with a wound that will never heal.

Lost in thought, I don't realize my wolf, Tanya, has been trying to talk to me. "I'm sorry, Tanya," I say inwardly. "What is it?"

"Stop crying," she replies curtly. "Tears won't undo the pain."

"Doesn't it hurt you that our fated mate won't be by our side?"

"It does."

"See?" I sigh. "Did I even make the right choice? It feels so wrong."

Tanya goes silent, closing herself off completely.

"Tanya," I growl in frustration, "you always go quiet when it’s important. You never take over, leaving me to make a fool of myself in front of Green Peaks. What’s the point of having you around if—"

"Hey."

A deep voice interrupts my angry rant. I whirl around and spot a man, his height similar to Aleksandr's. The snowfall is heavy, making it hard to see his face clearly, but his scent is familiar—though not quite like a werewolf's or a human's. My heart races as I realize something: I’m in lycan territory.

"No way," I mutter, stepping back cautiously until I trip and fall. Terrified, I point a trembling finger at the approaching figure. "Stay back! I’m a werewolf—stronger than you!"

The man crouches down, chuckling as he grabs my wrist, pulling me to my feet. "You don’t smell like one," he whispers, his voice deep and husky. "You smell like a lone lycan. How about you join our kingdom?"

"You’d let me join your pack?" I ask, instinctively leaning against his chest.

"Yes," he replies with a sigh, "but we don’t call it a ‘pack’ anymore. That term is for those brute, thick-headed werewolves."

I frown, pulling back. "They’re not brutes."

"Most of them are."

"No, they’re not."

He narrows his eyes, their glow intensifying. "Do you like werewolves, lady?"

"I’ve had friends among them," I half-lie.

"Your heart is racing."

"Is that so?"

"You’re a lycan—"

"I’m not," I retort, earning a scoff from him.

"—so you won’t die of cold," he finishes. "Stubborn little lone lycan, there’s nothing out here but snow and hills. You’re really going to turn down my offer?"

I’m no Aleksandr Pavlov, rejecting people left and right, but I’m not a lycan either. Yet here I am, contemplating joining this werewolf-hating lycan’s kingdom. It’s a mess, my whole situation. And what’s even worse is that I’m actually considering his offer.

Then, suddenly, I feel my wolf pushing me toward the retreating figure. "Tanya, they’re lycans—our enemies," I protest, but she doesn’t respond. She keeps pushing me forward.

I glance around and realize the man was right; there really is nothing out here but snow and desolation. I’m in the middle of nowhere, hungry, and soon I’ll need a real place to rest. Reluctantly, I swallow my pride and follow him down the hill.

"Knew you’d need food and shelter," he says before shifting into his lycan form. His transformation is swift; he grows taller, his head morphing into that of a terrifying wolf with sharp ears, jet-black eyes, and a long snout. His teeth are sharper, and his fur is thin but menacing.

My heart races as he scoops me up in his arms, and we leap across the landscape until we reach flat ground. He shifts back to human form in an instant, his thick clothes still intact, and then he plants a kiss on my cheek before setting me down gently. My cheeks flush, and my wolf howls with delight.

"Let’s go," he says, sprinting ahead.

I smile, following him, feeling strangely free and light. I don’t know if he’s wrong about me being a lycan, but pretending to be one seems like a better idea than clinging to an Alpha’s fleeting desires. I’m grateful to be far from Aleksandr and the pain his scent brings.

"Why are you smiling?" the lycan man shouts as we race through the night. With the lights of the city approaching, I finally see his face clearly. He wears a coonskin cap and a heavy coat, his forest-green eyes twinkling. His smile, his dimples, his confident stance—everything about him exudes charisma.

"I don’t know!" I shout back, my grin widening. "I just feel good!"

"That’s a good thing, right?"

"I think so!"

"You look beautiful!" he calls, his eyes playful.

I blush, speeding up. "What?!"

He smirks. "Your red face says you clearly heard me, lady," he says, sprinting ahead into the city shadows.

Filled with an unexpected warmth, I follow his trail through the urban landscape, finding myself at the gates of an ancient mansion. As I walk through the open gates and approach the door, I’m greeted by the noise of a bustling party. Lycans dressed in black suits and gowns fill the space.

Nervously, I step inside, fearing they’ll recognize me as a werewolf, but they don’t seem to care. Instead, they carry on with their celebration as if I belong.

A woman with gray sideburns smiles at me. "You look good in white," she says.

"Um, thanks," I reply, unsure.

"Don’t mention it." She returns to her conversation, and I’m left to wander through the crowd.

I head to the buffet, filling my plate. As I eat, I feel the hunger and cold fade. Despite the unfamiliar faces, the warm atmosphere almost feels welcoming.

Suddenly, the noise dims as the crowd parts, making way for a man in a blood-red suit with a gray beard. He raises a glass. "A new era has begun in the Kuzmin clan, and every one of you is part of it," he announces, drawing cheers.

"As the former king of the strongest lycan kingdom in Siberia," he continues, "I present my son, Vladimir Alekseev, the youngest Kuzmin to reach princedom—the new King of the Gray Fields Kingdom!"

Cheers and applause erupt. Vladimir steps onto the platform, dressed like his father. His midnight blue hair frames his face, and his eyes hold a mysterious depth. When his gaze meets mine, my heart flutters. I had no idea the lycan who helped me earlier was their new king.