Defying the Lycan King

Chapter 233: A God Wearing Your Skin

Rolf brought his hand down hard on the table, causing the paperwork to flutter. He glared up at his Beta, his chest heaving with a mixture of confusion and boiling rage.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, "Kira has signed a petition against us?"

Jake, his Beta, shifted on his feet, avoiding direct eye contact. "She submitted it to the Wolf Council, against you, specifically, Alpha. And now the council are formally requesting that you appear before them to defend yourself against her claims."

"She seems to have found out everything about her mother. She came with her birth name and her ancestral surname."

"Damn it!" Rolf cursed. "How is that even possible? I erased every fucking thing."

Jake hesitated. "The Lycan King has also requested a formal meeting with all the regional werewolf Alphas. He wants to offer an apology for all the years of oppression and war he’s waged against our kind."

Rolf scoffed, a bitter, ugly sound. "If that arrogant bastard imagines that a few pretty words of apology will undo years of oppression, then he has a very rude awakening coming his way."

As they were speaking, the tent flap lifted, and Lydia swept in.

Rolf immediately let out a frustrated sigh, gesturing for her to sit and quickly filled her in on everything Jake had reported, the petition, the summons, the King’s ridiculous olive branch.

When he’d finished, he looked at her expectantly. "Well? What do you make of all this?"

Lydia was quiet for a moment. Then she said, calmly, "We’re going back to Moonfang."

Rolf stared at her as though she’d grown a second head. "What?"

Lydia nodded, unbothered by his shock. "It’s the smartest move available to us. We accept the apology from King Derek Wolfe, for now. We smile, we nod, and we convince him that everything that happened between us in the past was simply the ugliness of anger and war. Nothing more."

She stood and began to pace slowly, thinking aloud. "Honestly, we never even understood why the Lycans hated us so deeply, if not for Kira’s presence in Dravengard. Everything that happened will be neatly shifted to the past. Once they drop their guard, we can launch our new plan."

"And how," Rolf asked, his interest piqued but still highly sceptical. "do you propose we do that?"

"We need to build a relationship with the Lycans," Lydia said, turning to face him. "A trusting one, as hard as it seems. It makes everything easier. Because I am now almost certain the Nexus is hidden away in one of the Lycan packs. So we make them trust us. We get inside. And when the moment is right, we take the Nexus, awaken Tyron’s power, and take charge of the entire world."

Rolf had listened, over these long months, to his wife speak with unnerving familiarity about the Nexus. He had watched her unveil a hidden Umbra army, and when he’d dared to ask how such a thing was even possible, she had simply said, cool as anything, that the Shadow King owed her family an old favour, and that was why he permitted her to command his shadows.

Rolf had let it lie. But he had also noticed, more and more, how utterly fixated his wife had become on Kira. And it had planted a small, nagging seed in his mind. A suspicion he had never quite spoken aloud.

What if Kira was the Nexus all along?

Lydia had fought so hard to keep Kira alive all these years. Could it be she knew she was the Nexus?

Rolf cleared his throat, pushing the thought down for a moment to ask a more pressing question. "And what happens if Tyron, the Shadow King, turns on us? After we’ve done all the work of helping him? What’s to stop him betraying us the moment he’s free?"

Lydia gave a small, patient smile, the smile of a woman who had already thought ten steps ahead.

"Tyron needs a body to possess, my love. He cannot rule the kingdoms as a formless shadow. He requires a vessel."

She stepped closer. "So once we find the Nexus, you leave the rest to me. We use her blood to unlock the powers that the late Lycan King bound away all those years ago. Tyron takes possession of you. And then, my darling, we rule the world together. You and I, with a god wearing your skin."

Rolf smiled, warming to the idea more with every word. The thought of it, all that power, all that dominion, sat sweet and heady in his chest.

But then a different thought crept in. A greedy, ugly little thought, uncoiling slowly at the back of his mind as he looked at his wife.

If I become an all-powerful god possessed by the Shadow King, why on earth would I keep a dangerous woman like Lydia around to share my throne?

***

"And how are you doing today, Mr Wolfe?" the therapist asked warmly.

Brian gave a stiff, slightly awkward nod, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, and glanced beside him, where Olivia sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap.

He looked back at the therapist and nodded his head again, his voice tight. "I’m doing okay, I suppose."

"That’s wonderful," the therapist said, her voice gentle and encouraging. She turned to Olivia. "And thank you, Mrs Wolfe, for joining us today. It means a great deal to have you here."

Olivia dipped her head graciously. "It’s my pleasure, truly."

"I invited Olivia to sit in with us," the therapist explained, addressing Brian now, "because I think it’s important for us to understand together how trauma shapes our relationships. How the things done to us echo out into the way we treat the people around us, and the way we let ourselves be treated. It’s all connected..."

After the session had wound to a close, Brian and Olivia walked out of the office side by side, and stepped onto the sunny pavement of the parking lot.

"Congratulations," Olivia said, a small, dry note in her voice. "You’ve completed your first month of therapy. See? It wasn’t that terrible. Only five more months left to go, and you’ll be completely sorted."

Brian gave a faint nod. Then he asked, quietly, "Have you heard anything yet? About Kira? Or my mother?"

Olivia sighed. "Kira’s no longer in Dravengard," she said. "It’s exactly as you told me. Derek hurt her badly. Cast her aside." She paused, choosing her words with care. "So I’m quite sure that once you’ve finished your therapy, once you’re truly well, she’ll choose you a hundred times over. You just need to be patient. And whole."

Brian’s expression eased a fraction. "And my mother?"

Olivia looked away. "I already told you," she said. "She moved out of that place. She probably settled somewhere new. I’m sure she would reach out when you’re healed." She turned back to him, brisk now, and gestured toward the car. "Now come on. Get in. Let’s go home."

And as Brian rounded the car and climbed in, Olivia lingered a moment by the door, her jaw tight, the lie sitting heavy and quiet behind her eyes. Because the truth of what had happened to Bianca was not something Brian was ready to carry. Not yet. Not with five months of mending still ahead of him.

She pulled open her door and slid inside, and said nothing more about it.