Three-Year Search

"I know what I want," Declan said, his deep voice cutting through the heavy, suffocating tension in the small attic. He didn't even glance at Blaire, who was still trembling violently on the rungs of the wooden ladder. His intense, burning gaze was locked entirely on me. "I’ll be an outlaw, Tessa. I don’t care about the pack, and I don’t care about the title anymore. I’m tired of playing pretend. I’m going to save you from this fate, and I’ll take care of everything. I only need you to come with me."

My heart leaped into my throat, hammering so hard it felt almost painful. For three long, agonizing years, I had secretly dreamed of this exact moment. I had closed my eyes in the dark and fantasized about Declan loving me enough to throw away his future, his status, and his duty just to be with me. But now that the words were actually hanging in the air, the sheer, crushing weight of them threatened to tear me apart.

"You would lose everything," I whispered, my voice trembling as the reality of his words set in.

"Everything but you," Declan replied instantly, his voice softening but filled with an unwavering, reckless resolve. He took another step closer, his eyes pleading with me to agree.

"You would give up your birthright," I pressed, trying desperately to inject some logic into his dangerous plan. "You would give up the position of Alpha."

"I'd rather live as a rogue than watch you become a sex slave to a ruthless king," he spat, his jaw clenching so tightly I heard his teeth grind.

"You are completely out of your mind!" Blaire shrieked.

She scrambled off the ladder and rushed forward, throwing her weight against Declan’s broad chest. She tried desperately to push him away from me, but her slight, fragile frame was no match for his solid, muscular build. Declan didn't even budge under her assault. He merely looked down at her with cold, growing irritation.

"Declan, get away from her!" Blaire’s voice was frantic, her eyes wide and wild. She looked like she was the one losing her mind. "She’s cast some kind of spell on you. A curse! Yes, that has to be it. We'll find a cure, I swear. There must be a witch in the territory who can help us. We were going to get married, Declan. I was going to be your Luna. You can't just throw that away. You can't take that away from me!"

When Declan didn't respond to her pleas, her venomous glare snapped directly back to me. "And for her? Look at her! She’s not even pure!"

Those words felt like a physical blow to my chest. My heart crumbled into tattered, useless pieces.

Blaire was right. I wasn't pure.

If the events of that fateful night three years ago had never happened, maybe Declan and I could have worked. Maybe we could have loved each other openly, married, raised a family, and led our pack together. But that night had ruined everything. I was tarnished. I carried a dark stain that would inevitably ruin anyone who got too close to me.

I couldn't let Declan sacrifice his entire life, his future, and his duty to our pack for a broken, ruined girl. I loved him too much to let him do that. I couldn't be the selfish anchor that dragged him down into the dirt. He was meant to lead. He would be a great Alpha.

But looking at the raw, desperate hope in his eyes, I knew a gentle refusal wouldn't work. If he felt even a sliver of hope, if he suspected for a single second that I still cared for him, he would defy the Lycan King, risk a war, and get himself killed.

To save him, I had to destroy him. I had to make him hate me.

Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my hand from his grip and let it drop limply to my side. I forced my expression to go entirely cold, masking the agonizing scream echoing inside my mind.

"I don't want to live my life on the run," I said, my voice flat and emotionless.

Declan stared at me as if I had just grown a second head. "What?"

"Becoming one of the Lycan King's women is a great honor," I lied, forcing a shallow, conceited shrug. "The King is searching for a girl with specific traits. Traits that only I possess. If I play my cards right, maybe I could be someone special. Someone powerful. Why would I throw that away to live like a stray dog in the woods with you?"

"He's a monster, Tessa!" Declan argued, his voice cracking with desperation. "He could treat you viciously. You don't know what you're saying."

"Or he'll give me everything I’ve ever wanted," I countered, swallowing down the bitter taste of my own self-loathing. The raw hurt in his eyes sliced through me like a physical blade, but I pushed forward, hardening my heart. "The Lycan King has more wealth, power, and status than anyone else in this world can even dream of. Compared to him, Declan... you are absolutely nothing."

The shock on Declan's face slowly calcified into a hard, cold anger. His brow lowered, and his eyes darkened with disgust.

"You aren't this vain," he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "You love me. I know you do."

"I love power more," I lied, turning my back on him.

I didn't look at his reaction. I couldn't, or I would break. I walked past Blaire, leaving my canvas bag and all my meager belongings on the cot. There was nothing in this attic that I needed where I was going.

Behind me, I heard Declan take a step forward, but Blaire threw herself in his path. "Listen to her, damn it!" she snapped. "She's showing you her true colors. You aren't thinking clearly!"

I didn't wait to hear the rest. I climbed down the ladder, hurried down the stairs, and walked out of the house.

The royal messenger was already waiting by a sleek, black sedan, holding the rear door open. He stepped aside as I approached, his face expressionless.

"In here," he directed.

I slid onto the cool, expensive leather seat. The door clicked shut behind me, sealing me in an oppressive, heavy silence. As the car pulled away, my hands began to shake. I tightly gripped my fingers together, twisting them in my lap to keep from breaking down. The quiet in the car was suffocating, eating away at my raw nerves until I couldn't take it anymore.

I cleared my throat, desperate for any distraction. "You said the King is looking for girls like me."

The messenger, sitting in the front passenger seat, tilted his head slightly. He didn't turn around to look at me, but I knew he was listening.

I took a shaky breath and pressed on. "Who exactly is King Roman looking for?"

"The King searches for a woman he met three years ago," the messenger replied, his voice smooth and indifferent.

My heart stopped.

Three years ago.

The timeline hit me like a physical blow. Three years ago, I had experienced my first sudden, unexpected heat. In my desperate, feverish state, I had shared a single, passionate night with a mysterious stranger in the dark—a man who vanished before the sun rose.

No. I shook my head slightly, trying to dispel the rising panic in my chest. It had to be a coincidence. The Lycan King wouldn't have been wandering around our pack's territory back then. It was impossible.

We drove in silence for four long, agonizing hours. Gradually, the rural landscape gave way to towering stone structures. Even though I had never seen it in person, the grand, intricate brickwork could only belong to Crown City.

Instead of joining the heavy traffic feeding into the main gates, our driver veered the sedan down a private side road. We stopped at a heavily fortified checkpoint where an armed guard peered through the dark tinted windows before waving us through.

The sedan plunged into a dark tunnel that wound deep underground. After a few minutes, the narrow passage opened up into a massive cavern. It was a sprawling underground city, complete with paved roads, stone buildings, and elaborate rock formations hanging from the ceiling. Lanterns and strings of warm lights illuminated the subterranean world, giving it an eerie, ancient atmosphere.

The car finally came to a halt in front of a grand, multi-story stone building. A massive line of girls stretched from deep inside the lobby all the way out the heavy wooden front doors.

I stepped out of the vehicle, my knees slightly weak. Before I could even orient myself, a guard clad in heavy, black body armor grabbed me roughly by the arm and hauled me toward the end of the line.

"Stay in line," he growled.

I swallowed my protests and shuffled forward with the other girls. As we slowly neared the entrance, I noticed an armed guard standing beside a large wicker basket overflowing with smartphones. When I reached the threshold, he glared at me expectantly.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and handed it over. He snatched it from my grip and carelessly tossed it into the pile.

"Will I get that back?" I asked, my voice small.

The guard stared right through me, completely ignoring my question. I took that as a definitive no and kept moving.

The interior of the building felt centuries old. The ceilings were low, the rooms cramped, and the air smelled of damp stone and burning oil. There were no electric lights here, only flickering lanterns casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.

We were ushered into a large, cold room where several mute attendants stood waiting. Without a word, they approached us with ribbon measuring tapes. They worked with terrifying efficiency, spinning me around, stretching the tape across my bust, waist, and hips, and jotting down the numbers on wooden clipboards before waving me to the next station.

From there, we were directed down a narrow corridor toward a row of small interrogation rooms.

When my turn came, a guard pushed me inside one of the rooms.

A heavy wooden table sat in the center. Behind it sat a balding, middle-aged man. Sweat trickled down the side of his reddened face, and his shirt was stained at the collar. He was aggressively chewing on a green apple, loud, wet crunches echoing in the small space. Spittle flecked from his lips, landing directly onto the paperwork laid out in front of him.

He didn't look up immediately. He wrote something down, took another massive bite of his apple, and then finally raised his head.

His eyes, greasy and predatory, swept slowly down my body. They lingered heavily on my breasts, his lips curling into a leering, disgusting grin. He leaned back in his chair, slowly chewing as he analyzed me like a piece of livestock.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked.