After My Mate Rejected Me, The Lycan King Claimed Me

The journey to London passed in a blur of pain and exhaustion. Each mile that separated me from Deacon should have brought relief, but the severed mate bond left a raw, bleeding wound in my chest. My wolf, though stronger than before, still whimpered in agony.

*Just hold on,* I whispered to her. *We're almost there.*

Rain pelted against the windows of the train as we approached the Royal Territory. Unlike pack lands, which were scattered throughout the countryside, the Royal Territory occupied a significant portion of London's heart—a neutral zone where no Alpha's power held sway.

"Isabel Morgan?" A woman's voice pulled me from my half-conscious state.

I looked up to see a tall, elegant woman with dark hair pulled into a severe bun. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, moved quickly over my haggard appearance.

"Beta Malaysia," she said, sliding into the seat opposite mine. "We don't have much time."

She reached into her bag, producing a small vial filled with amber liquid. "This will mask your scent from any trackers Deacon might send."

I took the vial with trembling hands. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she said, her voice low. "The Lycan King has been waiting for you."

My heart stuttered. "The Lycan King?"

Malaysia's eyes narrowed slightly. "Drink it. All of it."

The liquid burned like fire down my throat, but almost immediately, I felt a cooling sensation spread through my body. My wolf stirred, curious.

"What is this?" I asked.

"A special blend," Malaysia replied, taking back the empty vial. "Rare herbs that interfere with werewolf tracking abilities. Deacon won't be able to find you now."

She guided me through back streets and alleyways, avoiding main roads where pack spies might be watching. We finally reached a nondescript townhouse with blacked-out windows.

"Safe house," Malaysia explained, unlocking the door. "You'll remain here until the King decides what to do with you."

The interior was sparse but clean—a safe haven after years of emotional torture.

"Dr. Elena will be here soon," Malaysia said, gesturing for me to sit. "She's the best healer in the Royal Territory."

As if summoned by her name, the door opened again, and an older woman with silver-streaked hair entered. Her eyes widened at the sight of me.

"Moon Goddess," she breathed. "What has he done to you?"

I tried to stand, but my legs gave way. Dr. Elena caught me before I hit the floor.

"Bed rest," she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Immediately."

Malaysia helped carry me to a bedroom upstairs, where I collapsed onto soft sheets that smelled of lavender and healing herbs.

"Your wolf is severely traumatized," Dr. Elena said, placing her hands on my forehead. "And you're malnourished. How long has it been since you've eaten properly?"

I couldn't remember. Food had become an afterthought in the Silver Claw Pack.

"Never mind," she sighed, seeing my expression. "We'll start with broth and herbal supplements."

As Dr. Elena worked, my wolf began to stir more actively within me, drawn by the healing energy in the room.

*Safe,* she whispered. *Finally safe.*

The next morning, Elder Thomas arrived with a leather portfolio bulging with documents.

"The Fail-Safe Clause," he explained, spreading papers across the bed where I lay recovering. "Your parents were wise to include it in the original contract."

I signed where he indicated, my hand shaking with weakness but my resolve firm.

"With these signatures," Thomas said, "you've reclaimed everything that was once yours—including the trade routes that sustain the Silver Claw Pack."

"And Deacon?" I asked.

Thomas's smile was grim. "Without these assets, he has a title but no power. The pack will crumble without the trade routes and territory."

I should have felt triumph, but all I felt was a hollow ache where my heart used to be.

"There's one more document," Thomas said, pulling out a final paper. "This transfers ownership of the pack lands to the Northern Ridge Pack—Deacon's fiercest rivals."

As I signed my name for the final time, I felt something shift inside me—not healing, not yet, but perhaps the first step toward it.

"What happens now?" I whispered.

Thomas gathered the documents, his eyes kind. "Now you rest. And then you decide what kind of future you want."

But as I sank back into the pillows, exhausted from just this small exertion, I wondered if I would ever truly be free of Deacon's shadow—or if the price of my freedom had been too high.