The next morning, I woke in chains.
Real ones — thick, silver-lined, cold against my wrists and ankles.
I thrashed, panic surging through me.
"Easy, little wolf," Lucian's deep voice drawled from the shadows.
He lounged lazily in a chair across the room, legs spread wide, elbows resting on the arms like he ruled everything he touched.
Because he did.
He ruled me now.
My enemy. My captor. My unwanted crown.
"Why the hell am I chained?" I hissed, jerking against the cuffs.
Lucian's mouth quirked into a cold smile. "You're dangerous now. And untrained. I'd be a fool to trust you."
I bared my teeth at him, my wolf clawing under my skin, furious.
Good. Let it grow.
Let it rage.
He wanted a monster?
He would regret ever forging one.
Lucian rose from the chair, slow and deliberate, every inch of him a predator.
His dark, gray-brown hair fell into his eyes, wild and untamed.
His bare chest gleamed with old scars and new bloodstains, a walking testament to battles survived and enemies buried.
He came to stand over me, tilting my chin up with two fingers.
"You're not in the soft, sheltered lands of Alphas anymore, Seraphina," he said, voice like velvet and broken glass. "You're in the rogue kingdom. Here, we don't mate for love. We bond for survival. We kill to breathe."
I glared up at him, chest heaving. "You think chaining me will make me loyal?"
Lucian leaned down, mouth grazing my ear.
"No," he whispered. "Breaking you will."
My heart skittered painfully.
But I said nothing.
I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of my fear.
Lucian straightened and snapped his fingers.
Two female rogues — fierce, scarred women with wild eyes — entered the chamber.
"Train her," Lucian ordered. "Break her spirit. Strengthen her bones. She wears my crown now. I will not have a weak queen."
The women grinned — wicked, knowing smiles.
I snarled and fought as they dragged me from the room.
The days that followed were a blur of blood and agony.
They made me fight for my food, fight for my breath.
They left me outside chained to the training post at night, cold rain soaking my silver hair until I was shivering and half-mad.
They forced me to shift, to run on four legs until my paws bled.
Lucian watched it all.
Sometimes from a distance.
Sometimes close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, the burning weight of his stare.
Never intervening.
Never saving me.
I hated him.
I hated him so much it tasted like iron on my tongue.
And yet…
Some dark, traitorous part of me craved his attention.
Craved his approval.
The blood bond he forced between us thrummed every time he drew near — a low, vibrating tether of power and something darker.
One night, after a brutal spar where I barely stood, Lucian approached.
He caught my chin again — always my chin, like he couldn't help but touch me.
"You're learning," he said roughly. "You're becoming what you were always meant to be."
"I was meant to be loved," I spat.
Lucian's expression darkened dangerously.
"Love is a lie," he said, voice guttural. "It makes fools of strong creatures. I would rather see you hate me and live than love someone and die."
He released me then, stepping back.
I should have been relieved.
Instead, I felt hollow. Furious. Aching.
That night, I sat alone by the dying embers of the training pit fires.
The rogue women whispered nearby, low and cruel.
The Silver Bitch, they called me.
The Rejected Queen.
I curled my arms around my knees, exhaustion and rage gnawing my bones.
I would escape.
I would tear off these chains he crowned me with.
I would burn his rogue kingdom to ash.
And when I was done, I would make Lucian rue the day he ever touched me.
But even as I plotted, the blood bond pulsed again — low, persistent, hungry.
Binding me to him.
Twisting my fate.
And I knew, deep down, with a terror I couldn't admit:
Lucian wasn't just my captor.
He was the only creature strong enough to awaken the storm inside me.
And when that storm finally broke free…
Not even he would survive it.