Selene
Selene's breath caught in her throat. Had she misheard? Had her father truly spoken those words?
She wanted to believe she had imagined it. That it was some cruel mistake. But then—
He said it again.
"My daughter, Selene Valamir of House Valamir, will be wedded to the Lycan King, Lucian Nightfang, to serve as a treaty between vampires and Lycans—to end the ongoing war."
His voice was steady, absolute. As if he had not just sentenced her to something unthinkable.
"I see no further need for bloodshed," he continued, his gaze locking onto hers. "We have already lost too much."
Selene turned sharply, scanning the faces of the council seated around her. Whispers filled the room, a storm of hushed voices.
"Would she really bow to a Lycan?" someone murmured.
"This treaty is meaningless. The Alpha King would never agree to this."
"She will lead us all to our deaths. She would never bow to him."
Selene barely heard them. They were speaking as if she were not in the room. Debating her fate as if she had no say.
Anger ignited in her chest, cold and sharp. How dare they?
She rose to her feet. "Enough." Her voice rang out, cutting through the murmurs.
The room stilled. But before she could speak again.
The doors opened.
A slow, deliberate movement—no rush, But the moment they did, the air shifted.
The room grew heavy.
It was not the kind of weight that came from mere presence, but something deeper—something primal. Like the moment a predator steps into the open, and every lesser creature knows to still.
All eyes turned to the entrance.
Selene did not.
She didn't need to. She knew.
Who else would arrive late to a meeting meant to end the war? Who else would walk with the confidence of a man who feared nothing?
Lucian.
His presence rolled into the chamber like a slow-moving tide, suffocating and inescapable.
He walked in. Not even acknowledging the presence of anyone in the room, like they were beneath him.
No greeting. No explanation. No need for either.
Selene finally turned her head, meeting the man she was supposed to call her sovereign.
The first thing she noticed was not his height, nor the sharp edges of his face, sculpted as if the gods themselves had carved him from stone.
It was his eyes.
Gold. Liquid and cold. A predator's gaze, calm and unblinking, as if he were looking not at men, but at preys.
No flicker of emotion. No trace of arrogance or amusement—just silence.
The nobles closest to the door shifted back without realizing it. Some clenched their hands, a faint tremor betraying them. Even Selene's father, ever composed, set his jaw a fraction tighter.
Lucian said nothing, he did not need to.
He moved forward, his steps barely made a sound, but each one sent something cold curling through the room.
Selene held her ground.
She would not step back. Would not give him that satisfaction.
His gaze flickered toward her, a glance so brief it was almost dismissive.
And then he was past her, walking toward his seat at the head of the chamber.
The silence followed him. And it did not break.
He sat calmly, his gaze sweeping over the room—assessing. No one dared to speak.
Then, at last, Selene's father cleared his throat, his voice breaking the oppressive quiet.
"We are honored by your presence," he said, though his gaze never met the Alpha King's
"As we previously discussed, Selene Valamir, being of royal bloodline, will be wedded to you—sealing the treaty and placing full leadership under your rule." he concluded
Selene, still on her feet, seethed. "And why was this decision made without me?" Her voice cut through the room, sharp and demanding. Arms crossed as she fixed her gaze towards her father with an unwavering, furious stare.
"I will not wed this beast!" Her words rang with finality.
Then, she turned to him—Lucian Nightfang. Their gazes locked. He tilted his head slightly as if trying to figure her out.
"Silence, child!" Her father's voice cut through the room.
Before he could speak again, Lucians voice came in cold, firm, commanding.
"Enough. I do not have time for this. I will wed your heiress." But something about the way he said it—too steady, too unbothered—made unease creep down Selene's spine.
Lucian's words sent a ripple of shock through the chamber.
He did not pause. "I do not wish for more bloodshed. But do not mistake my acceptance for surrender."
His gaze swept over the room, sharp and uneasy. Then, in a voice as steady as death itself, he added "Step out of line, and I will end your life before you take your next breath."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Selene, shocked at his words, turned to Cassian seated across from her.
"You would sit there and watch me be traded to another man in the name of peace?"
Cassian sat motionless, his usual confidence dimmed. He did not defend her. Did not even meet her gaze. The silence between them was heavier than the treaty itself.
She stared at him, but he did not speak. His face was cold—as if the words of the Alpha had forced him into a state of frozen obedience.
Without another word, she turned and strode toward the door, her steps firm, defiant. As if Lucian's warning against disobedience had never reached her ears. She would not stand to be treated like a piece of property.
She felt their stares—some shocked, others uncertain—but she did not slow. She did not look back.
And as she reached the doors, she pushed them open and stepped through, slamming them shut behind her.
She was done with it.
******
Selene had walked to her room furious at Cassian's silence and her father's willingness to submit.
She headed straight for the small wooden chest near her bedside. She lifted the lid, her fingers brushing against a soft fabric—the scarf her twin brother had given her.
Sebastian's scarf.
She pulled it out slowly, the deep crimson fabric slipping through her fingers like water. He had given it to her the night before he left for battle, draping it around her shoulders with a quiet promise. "As long as you have this, know that I will always be there to protect you."
She had scoffed at him then, telling him she didn't need protection, that she could fight her own battles. But he had only smiled. "I know. But you shouldn't have to."
Sebastian had been the only one who understood what it meant to be of royal blood, the weight of expectation. He had known what it was like to live under their father's rule, where love was a distant second to duty, where they were expected to serve the crown before they could serve themselves.
And now, he was gone. Lost in the previous war.
And her father…
Her grip on the scarf tightened. How could he do this? How could he hand her over so easily, as if she were nothing more than a pawn on his chessboard? It made no sense. He was a man of power, of ruthless ambition—he would sooner die than surrender to anyone, let alone a Lycan.
Unless…
Selene's breath slowed.
Unless this was not surrender. Unless there was something else.
Her father did nothing without reason. He was too proud, too calculated. He would never bend the knee unless it served him in a greater way. But what could possibly be worth this?
Her stomach twisted. What was his endgame?
And worse—what part was she meant to play in it?
Her thoughts scattered at a sharp click. Her door unlocked.
Selene froze.
She turned and her father stepped in.
Before she could speak His hand struck.