The Lycan King's Secret Deal with the Broken Omega

Kael POV

The amber liquid burned down my throat, but it did absolutely nothing to numb the agonizing void in my chest.

The Alpha’s Den was suffocatingly thick with the smell of expensive cigars and heavy testosterone, yet I felt entirely hollow. Tearing the mate-bond had been like ripping out my own ribs with my bare hands. Every breath I took without Seraphina in our territory felt like inhaling shattered glass.

"To finally being rid of that wolfless parasite," Caleb, one of my highest-ranking Warriors, slurred, raising his glass.

I froze, the crystal tumbler halfway to my lips.

"Good riddance," Caleb continued, emboldened by the liquor. "A Rogue's whore. That's all she ever was. Her filthy bloodline tainted this Pack the moment she stepped foot—"

*Rip his throat out!* Fenrir, my inner wolf, roared so violently against my skull that my vision flashed red. My hand tightened around my glass. The crystal groaned, spiderweb cracks forming under my grip.

"Watch your damn mouth, Caleb," Garrick, my Beta, snapped. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble.

"Why?" Caleb scoffed. "She betrayed our Alpha. She proved she belongs in the dirt with the rest of the Rogues."

I didn't say a word. I couldn't. If I opened my mouth, Fenrir would take over and slaughter him. Instead, I downed the rest of my whiskey, the glass splintering slightly against my teeth, and reached for the bottle again.

Garrick’s hand clamped over my wrist, snatching the bottle away. "That's enough, Kael."

"Give it back," I growled, letting a fraction of my Alpha’s Command bleed into the air.

Caleb snickered. "Let the Alpha do what he wants, Garrick."

Garrick ignored him, his eyes locked onto mine, completely unfazed by my aura. He was my best friend, the only one who dared to defy me when I was spiraling. "You're done for the night. I'm taking you home."

He hauled me to my feet. The room spun, the heavy intoxication finally hitting my system. As Garrick threw my arm over his shoulder, a pathetic, broken whisper escaped my lips.

"Her scent... it's gone." I squeezed my eyes shut, the silence in my mind deafening. "The bond... it's so quiet, Garrick."

Deep down, buried beneath the betrayal and the rage, a pathetic truth festered: if she had just stayed in that hotel room, if she had just fallen to her knees and begged for my forgiveness... Fenrir would have forced me to give it to her.

The drive back to the Pack House was a blur. When Garrick and Caleb finally dragged me through the grand double doors of the foyer, Isabelle was already waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

"Goddess, how could you let your Alpha get into this state?" Isabelle scolded, her voice dripping with exaggerated concern as she rushed forward to touch my chest.

Garrick stiffened. *She's a damn vulture, Kael,* his voice echoed in my mind through our Mind-Link, laced with pure disgust.

I was too exhausted to reply.

"That's enough, Isabelle," my mother, Genevieve, said smoothly, stepping out from the parlor. "Garrick, Caleb, take him up to his suite. He needs rest."

As they dragged me up the stairs, my heightened hearing caught the faint, chilling whisper my mother directed at Isabelle: "You know what to do."

Isabelle’s heartbeat spiked with anticipation.

Minutes later, I was alone in my suite. The silence of the massive room was a physical weight. I stumbled toward the corner bar, my hands shaking as I blindly reached for a decanter.

The bedroom door clicked shut.

"Get out," I muttered, not turning around.

"You shouldn't be alone tonight, Kael," Isabelle whispered, her footsteps soft against the hardwood.

She stepped into my personal space. The cloying, artificial sweetness of her floral perfume assaulted my senses, a sickening contrast to the rain and cedar scent I was desperately craving.

"I said leave," I warned, my voice a dangerous, guttural rasp.

"Let me help you forget her," she murmured.

I turned around just as the sound of a zipper echoed in the quiet room. The silk of her dress pooled at her feet, leaving her standing before me in nothing but sheer lace.

In my mind, Fenrir didn't purr with desire. He lunged against the bars of my subconscious, his fangs bared, his roar shaking my very soul.

*Not her! Not our Mate! Filth!*