Rejected by the Prince, Chosen by the Lycan King

Juliet POV

The heavy tires of the Royal Pack's bulletproof SUVs crunched against the gravel, breaking the suffocating silence. Bryce didn't spare us another glance as his guards loaded his wheelchair into the lead vehicle. Braydon peeled out seconds later, his suffocating golden aura lashing out in a humiliated rage that rattled the Packhouse windows.

The grand, farcical wedding procession had evaporated.

Elder Edwina stepped out onto the porch, her wooden cane thumping ominously against the floorboards. She released the oppressive, stale scent of an aged she-wolf, her sharp eyes sweeping over the gossiping crowd. "Show's over. Return to your duties," she snapped.

As the Pack members scattered, a sleek, unassuming black sedan rolled slowly past the gates. The tinted rear window lowered just an inch. Inside sat Ezekiel Scott, the reclusive, top-tier Lycan King. His deep, unfathomable gaze locked onto my bloodied form for a fraction of a second before the window glided up and the car vanished down the road.

*Did you see her face? She's a dead woman walking,* a voice whispered through the Pack's Mind-Link.

*Luna Queen Augusta will skin her alive for humiliating the royals,* another replied.

*Clang.*

The heavy iron gates of the Palmer Packhouse slammed shut, cutting off the whispers.

Before I could even catch my breath, a brutal hand twisted into my hair. Alpha Harold dragged me across the courtyard and hurled me onto the freezing cobblestones. His gray wolf scent exploded in a violent frenzy.

He kicked me squarely in the ribs. I bit down on my tongue, tasting fresh copper as my vision blurred. My fingers twitched, brushing against the fabric of my pocket where the jagged, Silver-laced whip barb rested. My operative instincts screamed at me to drive it straight into his jugular.

"You useless, wretched mistake!" Harold roared, raising his foot for another crushing blow.

"Stop, Harold," Edwina's cold voice sliced through his rage. She hobbled down the steps, her eyes devoid of any grandmotherly warmth. "Beating her to death here serves no purpose. Prince Bryce is already on his way to the palace. The Luna Queen's wrath will fall upon our Pack."

Harold froze, his chest heaving. "Then what do you suggest, Mother?"

"We play the victims," Edwina said smoothly, looking at me like I was a piece of rotting meat. "We hand her over. We tell Augusta that this wolfless Omega went completely insane, that she forged the decree herself out of jealousy. Let the Luna Queen execute her. Her blood will wash our hands clean."

Carmen stepped up beside Harold, a vicious smile twisting her lips. "A brilliant plan, Elder."

"You bitch!" a shrill voice shrieked.

Charlize burst from the Packhouse doors, reeking of cloying, sweet roses. Her face was contorted in pure, unadulterated hatred. Her secret lover had been humiliated, her grand plans delayed. She threw herself onto me, her manicured hands slapping my bruised face left and right. "You ruined everything! You ruined Braydon!"

I didn't just take it. I was done being their punching bag.

With a surge of adrenaline, I twisted my hips and violently bucked her off. Charlize hit the cobblestones with a shriek. Before she could scramble away, I lunged. I pulled the blood-crusted Silver barb from my pocket and slashed it diagonally across her left cheek.

*Hiss.*

The sound of burning flesh was instantaneous. Charlize let out a bloodcurdling, agonizing scream as the Silver seared through her skin, guaranteeing a permanent, unhealable scar.

"My baby!" Carmen shrieked in absolute horror. "Get her off! Pull her off!"

Two burly Warriors grabbed my arms, hauling me backward. Carmen rushed forward and slapped me so hard my ears rang, but I just spat a mouthful of bloody saliva at her designer shoes and let out a dark, breathless laugh.

"Touch me again," I whispered, my eyes locking onto Harold's with the cold, dead stare of a reaper, "and I'll make sure the Luna Queen knows exactly whose idea that forged decree was. I'll drag this entire family to hell with me."

Harold's face paled, his fists trembling with a mix of fury and genuine unease. "Drag this animal to the Pack Shrine," he ordered the Warriors, his voice shaking. "Leave her on her knees before the Alpha statues until the royal summons arrives."

They dragged me by my arms, leaving a trail of my blood across the courtyard. They threw me onto the hard wooden floor of the cold, dimly lit Shrine and slammed the heavy oak doors shut.

Outside, my newly awakening White Wolf hearing picked up Edwina's hushed, venomous whisper to Harold. *"If by some miracle she survives the palace today, we announce she died of a sudden illness in three days. She does not live to see the weekend."*

I knelt before the towering stone statues of the Moon Goddess and the past Alphas, my breathing shallow. I reached into my torn pocket, my fingers brushing against something metallic that definitely wasn't the Silver barb.

I pulled it out. My breath hitched.

It was a sleek, leather-bound roll. Inside rested my custom-made, microchipped gold needles from my past life—a three-thousand-dollar set I used for advanced nerve block procedures. How they had crossed over with my soul, I had no idea.

But the moment my bloodied fingertips touched the cool gold, a strange, profound warmth pulsed up my arm. It resonated deep within my chest, awakening a dormant, ancient energy. My White Wolf's Healer bloodline was answering the call.

I gripped the needles tightly, my eyes fixed on the cold stone face of the Moon Goddess. Let the Luna Queen summon me. I was ready.