The assassin didn't hesitate—he didn't aim for the Wolf King.
He aimed straight for Aarini's heart.
CHAPTER 3
For a split second, Aarini saw the blade flash—a streak of burning black fire slicing through the air toward her chest.
Her scream tore out before she could stop it.
But the blade never reached her.
Because Lycandros caught it mid-air.
With his bare hand.
Aarini's eyes widened.
The black-fire blade sizzled against the Wolf King's palm, sending sparks and dark smoke spiraling into the room. It should have burned him, cut him, destroyed him—
But it didn't.
Lycandros didn't bleed.
He didn't flinch.
He simply crushed the blade like it was made of brittle glass.
The assassin froze.
Lycandros lifted his gaze—slowly. When his eyes locked onto the intruder, the temperature in the room dropped so violently that Aarini felt frost forming on her skin.
A voice like a god's fury rolled through the room.
"You dare come for what is mine?"
The assassin didn't answer.
He fled.
But the Wolf King was already moving.
In a blur of silver and rage, Lycandros vanished from beside Aarini—reappearing at the broken window just as the assassin leapt onto the next terrace.
The chase lasted three heartbeats.
One.
Lycandros caught him by the throat.
Two.
The assassin's feet kicked violently. Shadows crawled around his body as he tried to shape-shift.
Three.
The shadows cracked—shattering under Lycandros' grip like broken ice.
The assassin's scream was cut short as the Wolf King flung him across the rooftop with a force that made the concrete crack.
Aarini sat frozen, watching from her bed, heart galloping, the moon-shaped mark on her wrist burning hotter and hotter.
The assassin struggled to stand.
Lycandros stalked toward him with lethal calm.
"Who sent you?"
The assassin spat blood. "She… must die. The prophecy—"
Lycandros' eyes flashed white-gold, far brighter than the moon outside.
"You speak of prophecy to me?"
His voice thundered like lightning tearing open the sky.
Aarini gasped as the Wolf King raised his hand.
Silver fire erupted from his palm—
pure, divine, merciless.
The assassin disintegrated into ash.
Aarini clapped a hand over her mouth, chest heaving. The smell of burned shadows still lingered in the cold night air.
Lycandros stood unmoving, watching the ashes scatter.
Then… slowly… he turned toward her.
His gaze softened instantly.
The terrifying god vanished.
The possessive man returned.
He walked toward her with quiet, earth-shaking intensity.
Aarini scrambled back on the bed, heart pounding. "W—Why did that man try to kill me?"
Lycandros knelt before her, lifting her wrist gently. His thumb brushed over the glowing moonmark.
A dangerous sadness filled his eyes.
"Because you are not just my bride…"
He looked up, gaze deep and ancient.
"…you are the last living heir of the Lunar Witches."
Aarini froze.
"What… what does that mean?"
He took a breath, voice low.
"It means you were born with the power to kill every wolf in existence—including me."
Aarini's blood turned ice.
"And," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with aching tenderness,
"it means every creature in the dark realms will hunt you… until one of us dies."
Her heartbeat shattered.
She whispered the only question her trembling lips could form:
"Then… why are you helping me?"
Lycandros leaned closer, his voice barely a breath.
"Because fate may have chosen you to end me…"
His fingers brushed her cheek, gentle, reverent, heartbreaking.
"…but I choose you to be mine."
Aarini's breath hitched.
Before she could reply, the moonmark on her wrist flared—burning so bright it lit up the entire room.
Lycandros' eyes widened.
He stood abruptly.
"They've found you again."
Aarini blinked. "Who—"
Lycandros didn't answer.
He simply lifted her into his arms as shadows rippled across the floor.
The Wolf King whispered:
"Hold on to me."
And then—
The room vanished.