The night was thick with fog, each tree looming like a dark shadow in the forest. Zara stumbled over twisted roots and rocks, her steps aimless, lost in a haze of raw emotions. Her heart felt as if it were tangled with the dense woods around her—heavy, wild, and suffocating. She was barely aware of her surroundings as she wandered further into the depths of the forest. Her mind replayed the recent events, each memory bleeding into the next, a confusing tangle of anger, betrayal, and pain.
Liam's cold rejection echoed in her head, mingling with Anastasia's cruel taunts. The hollow ache in her chest seemed to tighten with every step, every thought reminding her of the way she had lost not only her mate but her dignity. This was all wrong, she thought desperately. This wasn't supposed to be the story.
She barely noticed the faint crunch of fallen leaves beneath her feet as she drifted deeper, her mind swirling with unsteady thoughts. The anger she had held in check clawed at her insides, demanding release, but there was no one to scream at, no one to hit. Just endless, silent trees, stretching high above her like a cage.
Suddenly, Zara realized she couldn't remember how she had even come this far. She stopped, glancing around in confusion. The woods were silent, their shadows dense and unfamiliar. Her heart thudded in her chest as she turned in circles, trying to remember the way back. Every direction looked the same—a wall of dark, twisted trees, stretching endlessly into the fog.
A cold wave of dread washed over her as she realized how lost she was. Her breath quickened, her heart pounding harder with each beat. She had no plan, no clear thought. She was out here alone, defenseless, just like the weak mate everyone believed her to be.
"No, I'm not weak," she whispered to herself, though her voice trembled.
"I'm the future leader of the Dark Moon pack. I can get out of this."
But her voice was swallowed by the silence, her words feeling hollow in the darkness. She took a shaky breath, forcing her legs to move forward, hoping she would somehow stumble upon the way back. But as she moved, a sudden crack of a twig sounded behind her. She froze, her breath catching.
Turning slowly, she scanned the shadows, her senses straining. Her pulse quickened as she tried to listen for another sound, but the forest was eerily silent again. It was only when she turned back around that she sensed a faint shift in the air, an almost imperceptible hint that something was watching her.
Panic began to rise as she stumbled backward, her mind racing. There were no allies here, no one she could rely on. But she couldn't give in to fear. Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath and clenched her fists, prepared to face whatever danger lurked in the shadows. Or whatever danger she had written with her own pen.
In the grand hall of the palace, everything seemed still on the surface, yet a strange energy buzzed in the air. Denzel and Devonte were both on edge. An unsettling feeling tugged at them, deep and unshakable, like a silent alarm echoing through their bones. Their wolves stirred restlessly within, pressing against their control, demanding release.
Denzel glanced across the room, meeting Devonte's gaze. Their eyes locked, and without a word, they understood—they both felt it.
Something was wrong, deeply wrong. They reached for each other's minds through the link they shared, communicating in silence.
"Devonte, do you feel that?" Denzel's voice was calm but tight, the tension radiating even through their mental connection.
"Yes, like someone calling out to us, almost begging," Devonte replied, his wolf snarling in response. But it's not just anyone—it feels different.
They didn't know who it was, but both could sense a presence in distress, a fragile connection that stirred emotions they'd never felt before. An undeniable pull, powerful and primal, burned inside them. Their wolves sensed something—a mate in danger, though they hadn't yet met her.
Without another word, the two kings gave a silent nod and allowed their wolves to take control. In a swift and fluid transformation, their bodies shifted into towering Lycan beasts, their forms sleek and powerful, claws extended, and their eyes glowing with an untamed fire. Their sudden change sent waves of energy rippling through the palace, making everyone nearby recoil in surprise and awe. Even the bravest of warriors flinched, feeling the raw power exuding from their kings.
Their wolves didn't hesitate; they lunged forward, tearing through the palace doors and charging toward the forest. A ripple of fear swept through the palace as every creature present watched the scene unfold in stunned silence. Never before had they seen their kings lose control so suddenly.
Xavier quickly recognized the urgency. The kings didn't just shift for no reason; something serious was happening. He turned to the other officials gathered in the hall.
"We follow them. The kings would not transform without purpose," his tone was commanding, yet laced with a hint of unease.
Without hesitation, Xavier shifted, his own beast emerging with a powerful growl. One by one, the kingdom's higher officials followed suit, each transforming and joining the pursuit. They moved swiftly, a silent, lethal force, making their way through the forest after their kings. The air around them was charged with tension as they raced forward, determined to uncover the mystery of the kings' sudden transformation.
As they neared the forest's edge, a haunting silence fell over the night, every creature they passed retreating in terror. The forest itself seemed to bow to the power of their combined presence, the shadows parting in fear of the Lycans who now prowled its depths. None of them knew who or what had called to their kings, but one thing was clear—they would find it, and no force in this realm would stand in their way.
Denzel and Devonte tore through the forest, their massive Lycan forms weaving effortlessly between trees, their senses zeroed in on a single scent. It was intoxicating—rich, sweet, and so distinct it wrapped around them like a spell, urging them forward with an urgency that made their hearts pound.
With every step, the realization hit harder. She's our mate, their wolves confirmed, the bond flaring to life with an intensity that took them both by surprise. The thought sent a surge of adrenaline through them, and their pace doubled, their powerful limbs driving them forward faster, harder. They didn't care for the creatures that scattered in terror, nor the ground that trembled beneath their weight—they had to reach her, to protect her.
As they neared, their growls grew louder, vibrating through the forest and silencing everything around them. Every tree, every shadow seemed to melt away as they closed in, focused solely on the scent of the woman they were now desperate to find.
Then, finally, they saw her.
A girl with raven-black hair cascading down her back, her figure slightly curvy yet graceful, was stumbling in the dark. She looked lost, frightened, moving back slowly from something hidden in the shadows. Denzel and Devonte's breaths caught as they watched her, their eyes fixed on her every movement. And then, as if sensing them, she turned, and for the first time, they saw her face.
The sight stole the air from their lungs. She was beautiful—more than either of them could have imagined. Her eyes, wide with fear, glinted in the faint moonlight, her skin soft and ethereal. Their hearts thundered, each beat louder than the last, as they felt the bond settle deep within them, sealing their fates. Their wolves howled in unison, recognizing her as theirs.
But the moment of awe shifted into fierce protectiveness as they noticed the danger lurking around her. A ghostly figure, its shape barely visible in the dark, hovered nearby, its form twisting with an unnatural hunger as it slowly moved closer to her.
A low, guttural growl erupted from both brothers, their rage intensifying as they watched the creature stalk their mate. Without a second thought, they bounded forward, their powerful bodies smashing through branches and undergrowth, eyes blazing with fury. Nothing would get between them and the woman fate had given them—not even death itself.
The ghostly figure collapsed under the might of their claws, vanishing into the shadows with a final, chilling wail. Denzel and Devonte stood over its remains, their Lycan forms heaving with barely contained rage and adrenaline. Then, slowly, their fierce eyes shifted, settling on her.
Zara stood frozen, her back pressed against a tree, her wide, frightened gaze fixed on them. In her mind, she saw every word she'd written about this moment. They are my terminators, she thought in terror. I'm supposed to die by their hands. The scene was unfolding exactly as she'd described, yet somehow, the reality of it was far more terrifying than any words she'd put on paper.
She wanted to run, to scream, but her voice was trapped in her throat, her body trembling as she locked eyes with the two massive Lycans towering over her. She felt the chill of death looming close, her mind spinning with the dread of what was to come.
One of them stepped forward, his dark fur catching the faint moonlight, his blue eyes sharp and intense as they fixed on her. It was Denzel. His massive form lowered slightly, his gaze tracing her face with a strange reverence as if she were something precious, something long lost and miraculously found.
In a deep, rumbling voice, he spoke.
"After all this time… here you are," he said, his tone a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"Millennia have passed, and finally… we find you."
Devonte stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Zara's terrified face.
"We thought you were only a myth," he murmured, his voice softer, gentler.
"Yet you're here, real… our mate."
Zara's heart pounded so hard she thought it would tear from her chest. Mate? She couldn't believe what she was hearing. They were accepting the fact she was their mate. How was that changed? They were supposed to be devils for her from the moment she met them. Now the talking wasn't saying that.
Her whole body shook, paralyzed by the weight of their gaze. She wanted to respond, to scream, to demand answers, but her voice was lost, swallowed by fear.
Sensing her terror, Denzel softened his tone, though his Lycan form remained.
"You're safe now. We are here to protect you," he assured, his intense eyes narrowing as he studied her. But even as he spoke, he struggled to keep the raw power of his wolf in check, every fiber of his being overwhelmed by the mate bond.
Zara finally managed a shaky whisper.
"You… you're supposed to kill me," she stammered, barely able to meet their piercing gazes. "That's how it was written… You're my terminators."
Both Denzel and Devonte exchanged a glance. They were clueless about her words. They wondered what she was talking about.
Soon their expressions shifted as they realized what she believed. They thought she might be too shocked to talk with sense. Denzel's lips curved into a strange, almost sorrowful smile.
"We would sooner rip the world apart than harm you."
Devonte took a step closer, his voice low and filled with conviction.
"You are ours, Zara. Whatever fate may have planned… we'll rewrite it."
The intensity of their words left her breathless. She still couldn't fully grasp what was happening—the weight of their presence, the bond that seemed to pull her toward them even as her fear kept her frozen. But in that moment, she felt a spark of something other than terror—a spark of hope, of safety in the midst of chaos. For the first time, she wondered if her story might be different from what she'd written. If maybe, just maybe, she could survive this night.
But wait. What if they find the truth which would get them to reconsider their decision? The truth which might change her fate in a most horrible way? She wasn't in safe hands yet.