"What just happened?" Declan asked, staring at the doorway where Kira’s Lycan had vanished.
"She... she’s a white Lycan?" Crane breathed, his face drained of all colour, his voice barely above a whisper. "That’s not possible. A white Lycan."
Meanwhile, an immeasurable pain lanced through Derek’s chest.
It hit him without warning, a deep, tearing burn that doubled him forward, and his hand flew up to clutch at his chest as though he could hold the thing together by force.
Inside him, Leo threw back his head and let out a high, agonised howl, a sound of pure anguish that shook through Derek’s entire body and rattled his teeth.
Kai turned on him, his face dark with fury.
"I hope you’re happy now," he bit out. "I hope this is everything you wanted."
Derek didn’t respond, he was too shocked and in pain to understand what Kai was saying to him at the moment.
A few feet away, Nana’s heart was breaking into a million pieces. She stood frozen, eyes wide as saucers, her right palm placed on her chest.
After everything she had done—all the sneaky matchmaking, the hours spent orchestrating events to bring Derek and Kira together, the quiet moments where she genuinely thought her stubborn grandson had finally found true love—it had all been a farce.
A lie. A calculated lie from the very beginning, to deceive her and to get the throne from her. She didn’t know which hurt most, the fact that they had both lied to her or that they had just broken apart in her front.
The stress of the dark revelation became too much for her to handle. Her hand flew over to her head, as she let out a soft groan, and fainted.
"Mother!" Crane lunged and caught her before she hit the floor, easing her down, shaking her gently. "Mother. Mother, can you hear me?"
Kai and Declan rushed over. Declan snatched a bottle of water off the top of the credenza and dropped to his knees beside them.
But Derek wasn’t even getting himself, his vision swam.
He blinked hard, twice, staggering on his feet, unable to make sense of the pain crashing through his head and his chest all at once.
It did not feel like grief. It did not feel like rage. It felt like something being ripped clean out of him, from the root of his being.
White Lycan, his mind repeated, dazed. Kira is a white Lycan.
He had never seen one. He had only ever heard of them in the oldest stories, the rarest of all their kind, spoken of the way one spoke of myths.
She wasn’t even a werewolf. How was that possible? How did Rolf raise a lycan under his roof?
When at last his heartbeat steadied enough for him to move, enough for him to think past the agony, Derek turned and bolted out of his study.
He came roaring into the corridor, where startled gammas and servants stood frozen, every one of them clearly having watched the white Lycan tear past moments before.
"Find the white Lycan!" Derek bellowed. "Now! Bring her back to me unharmed!"
The entire palace was instantly thrown into a frenzy.
Gammas threw off their shapes and shifted mid-stride, paws hitting the floor as they bolted for the doors.
Servants dropped their lanterns and their flowers and their half-finished preparations and scrambled out of the king’s path, flattening themselves against the walls as he stormed through.
Derek gave himself over to Leo. The shift took him almost before he had cleared the front doors, fur and muscle and bone reshaping in a single fluid surge, and then the enormous black Lycan was sprinting out into the night, hunting.
***
Meanwhile, Kira’s Lycan tore through the shrubbery, branches whipping past her, and ran. Far, and then farther still.
She did not know where she was going. She had no destination, no plan, nothing but a single, desperate need pounding through her veins, to get away.
Away from Dravengard. Away from Derek and the cruelty in his eyes. Away from the words that had broken her open. Away from every single thing that had made her cry.
Her new senses were almost overwhelming. Sharper than anything she had ever known. She could hear the smallest rustle in the undergrowth, see the texture of bark in the dark, smell a hundred scents layered over one another in the cold night air. The world had gone vivid and loud and strange.
But soon, her strength began to fail her.
The pain had taken too much. The heartbreak, the exhaustion, the sheer impossible weight of everything that had happened, all of it had drained her dry, and there was nothing left in her tank to run on.
Her paws began to stumble, and her legs buckled. And at last she crumpled to the forest floor, her sides heaving, her whole body trembling with the effort just to keep breathing.
As she lay there, panting, she heard the thud of paws in the distance. Many of them. Drawing closer.
They were coming for her.
She tried to push herself up, to force her limbs to move, to run, but her head spun sickeningly and her body simply would not answer.
She had nothing left. And then, without her willing it, without any decision on her part, the change began to reverse.
Her white fur receded into her skin. Her claws drew back. Her bones shifted and softened, and in moments she lay there on the cold ground, human once more, and entirely naked.
The thud of paws grew closer and louder. Howls split the night around her. They were the howls of a pack calling to her.
She understood it now.
She closed her eyes, already giving up to the darkness that was about to swallow her whole. Then, she felt something settle over her bare skin.
Cloth. A coat, perhaps, draped gently across her body to cover her nakedness.
Through the haze pulling her under, she saw the silhouette of a man crouching over her. He bent down, slid his arms beneath her, and lifted her carefully off the ground.
"I’ve got you now, Your Highness," the man whispered.
Kira could not place the voice. It tugged at something, but her mind was too far gone, too clouded, to catch it. And as unconsciousness drag her further down into the dark, one last thing drifted through her fading thoughts.
The man carrying her had no scent at all.