Circe's POV
My heart stopped when I saw my father. He had sensed me, there was no reason to hide anymore. I stood behind Sante, tears filled my eyes but they did not flow.
I clenched Sante's arm.
I was strong enough to fight. But not against my father he was a demon in human flesh.
The air around us thickened with tension as King Lycaon stepped off his chariot, his golden armor gleaming even under the moon's dim light. His cold eyes swept over me like I was filth, then landed on Sante, full of nothing but disgust.
"You disappoint me, Circe," he drawled, voice smooth but carrying venom. "I should have expected betrayal from a child of mine."
I held my ground, even as fear gripped my chest. "This isn't betrayal," I said, my voice steady. "This is my choice. I love him father."
"Love? Really? My enemy of all people is who you chose to love?"
I gulped. "He..treats me like a human. Unlike you."
His expression didn't change but his eyes held hatred. He was pissed.
He lifted his hand, and his warriors moved forward.
Sante reacted instantly, gripping his sword tighter, stepping in front of me.
The first attacker lunged, blade flashing in the dark.
Sante sidestepped, slashing across the warrior's chest. Blood splattered onto the forest floor, a dark stain against the damp earth. Another came, swinging low. Sante blocked, kicking him backward, but an arrow barely missed his shoulder.
I turned, grabbing a fallen branch and swinging it into the gut of a warrior who got too close. He grunted, staggering back. Another man came at me, but I ducked under his arm, twisting until I was behind him.
My knee slammed into the back of his leg, forcing him down.
The air filled with the sound of metal clashing, grunts of pain, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. But my father he hadn't moved.
It was just like training session all over again. He enjoyed brutality, he wanted me covered in blood. To fight, and never lose. I was his toy.
King Lycaon merely watched, amusement flickering in his eyes as his men fell one by one.
"Enough," he finally said, voice sharp.
His warriors backed away, panting, some bleeding. Others groaned where they lay on the ground, too injured to move. My breathing was ragged, but my grip on Sante remained firm.
"You should know by now that your men do not hold weight in where I am. I am Alpha Sante, great warrior. I do not even need my wolf to destroy you." Sante said.
My father chuckled, "Embarrassing of you. Standing there saying all that over a woman. Isn't that shameful?"
"Not for my love."
"Then you might as well take her place in punishment. Hopefully it's worth it."
Lycaon exhaled, pulling his recurve bow from his back.
He took his time, drawing an arrow, positioning it with precision. Aimed straight at Sante's heart.
"No!" I lunged forward, throwing myself between them. My chest heaved. "Father, please. Don't do this."
His expression hardened. "Move."
"I love him." My voice trembled, but I held my ground. "He is not your enemy."
His lip curled. "He is exactly that."
Sante shifted behind me, gripping my arm. "Circe, step away."
I refused.
My father's eyes locked onto mine, unyielding. "You would stand against your own blood for a man who would betray you the moment it benefits him?"
"He is nothing like you!" I shot back. "He is loyal. He is good."
King Lycaon laughed a dark, hollow sound. "Let me show you how wrong you are."
Before I could react, he raised his hand. Two warriors who we didn't notice grabbed Sante from behind, forcing his arms back. He struggled, thrashing, but they were too many.
"Let him go!" I screamed, stepping forward.
Lycaon ignored me. He walked up to Sante, gripping his chin roughly. "You think she's yours?" His nails dug into Sante's skin. "Did she tell you who she really is? What power flows through her veins?"
Sante's jaw clenched, his eyes flicking to me. "I don't care about any of that."
Lycaon's grip tightened. "Lies. You're all the same. Power-hungry leeches."
Sante spat at his feet. "Kill me if you must, but you will never own her."
Lycaon's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I don't need to kill you." He turned to me. "She will do that herself."
Then he pulled a blade from his belt and pressed it into my palm.
"Prove your loyalty, Circe," he murmured. "Kill him and maybe I shall give you your freedom."
I stared at the blade. The handle was cold, heavy in my grip. My hands shook.
"No," I breathed. "I won't."
His gaze darkened. "Then you are no daughter of mine."
Before I could react, he spun and drove his fist into Sante's stomach. The impact made him buckle, gasping. The warriors holding him barely kept him upright.
Rage burned through me. "Stop it!"
Lycaon's head tilted. "Not so strong now, are you, Alpha?" His voice dripped mockery.
Sante coughed, blood staining his lips. But his eyes never left mine.
Lycaon turned to me once more. "This is your last chance, Circe."
Tears blurred my vision. "I'd rather die."
He exhaled like I was nothing more than a disappointment. Then, without another word, he raised his bow again, this time with a poisoned arrow glinting at the tip.
My breath caught. "No."
Lycaon released the string but not against Sante but at me.
The arrow pierced my stomach.
A sharp, unbearable pain exploded through me. My body jerked as the impact forced me back a step. I gasped, pressing my hands against the wound, but warm blood seeped through my fingers, soaking into the fabric of my tunic. My vision swam, my knees weakened, but before I could react, he fired again.
The second arrow struck my chest.
A choked sound escaped my lips, my breath stolen by the force of it. The pain, hot and searing, spread through my ribs, making every movement feel impossible.
My father watched me, his expression unreadable, but the satisfaction in his eyes was unmistakable. He had done what he had always wanted erased me from his life.
But why are this moment.
I could hear Sante shouting, but the sound was muffled, distant, like it was coming from another world. My body swayed, struggling to stay upright, but the ground beneath me no longer felt stable. The world tilted, shadows closing in at the edges of my vision.
I staggered back, my feet slipping on the damp rocks. The rushing sound of water filled my ears. I tried to fight it, to hold on, to stay on solid ground, but my strength was gone. My body was no longer my own to control.
Then, I fell into the stream.
The wind rushed past me as I plummeted backward, the force of gravity pulling me toward the storming waterfall below. Cold air whipped against my face, my body weightless for a moment before the violent waters swallowed me whole.
Darkness surrounded me.
The icy grip of the river pulled me under, stealing the last breath from my lungs.
The world above faded, the last thing I saw before everything went black was Lycaon standing at the edge, watching me disappear beneath the waves, but then Sante was beside him…or…was he?
My life slowly flashed before my eyes.
The first time he hit me when I was six, for spilling ink on his scrolls. The time he locked me in the dungeons for daring to speak out against him. The look of rage in his eyes when he found me singing in secret just like my mother.
My mother that he had killed and made me watch.
The love I never received.
The mercy he never gave.
A voice. Sante.
His laugh, warm and rich, echoed in my ears. He had been the only softness in my life, the only one who ever made me feel whole.
He had once held my face between his hands, whispering, "You are worth more than the world, Circe."
He was gone now. And so was I.