Everyone said I was worthless when my wolf failed to awaken.

On the day I was hospitalized with a difficult pregnancy, my family turned their backs on me.

That was why Brandon, my fated mate, didn't hesitate to cast me aside.

He only wanted Victoria, the daughter of a powerful Alpha.

While I lay in a coma, Brandon severed our bond and married her.

He even sent a $1 rejection payment to my hospital bed as the ultimate insult.

It was then that Alexander Cross appeared—the Lycan King, a myth come to life.

He wrapped me in his royal cloak, carried me away from that nightmare, and healed my broken body.

From then on, whenever anyone spoke ill of me, he silenced them forever.

Whenever I felt insecure, he crowned me with another royal title.

I had never known such absolute devotion, and I gave him my heart completely.

Five years later, my son and I lived happily in the Royal Lycan Court.

Then, a desperate Alpha came to beg for a military alliance to save his dying pack.

It was Brandon.

He kneeled in the grand hall, offering expensive gifts, totally unaware of who the King's mate was.

"My Queen will decide your fate," Alexander declared, his voice echoing in the silence.

I slowly stepped out from behind the velvet curtain and looked down at my ex-mate.

"Aria?" Brandon gasped, his face draining of all color.

"That is Luna Queen Aria to you," I smiled coldly. "And my answer is no."

***

"Hey, you. Deliveries go through the alley."

The doorman in a gold-trimmed uniform stepped off the Moonstone Hotel plaza curb, shoving his white-gloved hand toward my chest.

I swatted his arm away. "Don't touch me."

"Then move this junk heap," he demanded, gesturing at my motorcycle. "This is the VIP entrance. You're blocking the drop-off zone."

I turned back to my bike, hooking my fingers under the chin strap of my son's oversized helmet.

"I'm not making a delivery," I said, unzipping the bulky neon-orange courier jacket I wore to blend into the city traffic. "I have a reservation."

"A reservation? You?" The doorman sneered, eyeing the scuff marks on my steel-toed boots and the faded denim of my jeans. "Read the sign. No loitering for strays. We don't want rogues begging our guests for scraps."

"I'm unbuckling my kid. Give me ten seconds." I lifted the helmet off Leo's head, smoothing down his messy dark hair.

"You have five seconds before I call security," the doorman snapped, reaching for the radio on his belt.

"Go ahead," I challenged, resting a hand on my hip. "Call them. Tell them a paying customer is using the front door."

Before the doorman could unclip his radio, a sleek silver Maybach pulled up to the curb, tires kissing the red carpet and forcing me to step back.

The rear door swung open. A heavy, suffocating scent of pine and musk rolled out, thick enough to make my nose wrinkle.

Brandon stepped onto the pavement.

He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his jaw set in that familiar, arrogant line. He reached back into the car, pulling out Victoria. Her belly strained against a tight silk maternity dress, proudly displaying the heir I had never given him.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Brandon said, his voice cutting through the plaza noise.

I froze, my grip tightening on Leo's helmet.

Brandon strutted forward. Victoria clung to his arm, a smug smile plastered across her perfectly contoured face.

"Aria Blackwood," Brandon mocked, looking me up and down. "Dressed like a common delivery rat. I always knew you'd end up in the gutter, but this? This is a new low, even for you."

"Walk away, Brandon," I said, positioning myself between him and Leo.

"Why the rush?" He chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. "I thought a single dollar would last you longer. You must be starving by now."

I kept my expression blank. "Your trash is in the past. Keep it there."

"That was my rejection payment, wasn't it?" Brandon pressed, stepping closer. He looked around the plaza, making sure the gathering crowd of valets and guests could hear him. "One crisp dollar bill for the mate who wasn't worth a dime. I remember throwing it right at your feet. Did you frame it? Or did you spend it on cheap kibble?"

Victoria giggled, resting a diamond-ringed hand on her swollen stomach. "You should have seen her face when you tossed it at her, babe. Tragic. She actually thought an Alpha would keep a weak, pathetic thing like her. Look at her now. She looks like she hasn't bathed in a week."

"I'm busy," I said, tossing the helmet onto the leather seat of my bike. "Take your pregnant mistress and go check into your room."

"She's my mate now," Brandon growled, his eyes flashing gold. "And you dare speak to your Alpha that way?"

"You aren't my Alpha. You haven't been for five years."

He shifted his gaze, finally noticing the small boy hiding behind my leg. Leo stared back, his dark eyes wide but fearless.

"A pup," Brandon spat. "A rogue pup. Yours, I assume? Who's the father? Some nameless stray you picked up behind a dumpster?"

"Don't look at him," I warned, stepping fully in front of my son.

Brandon ignored me. He squared his shoulders, letting his Alpha aura crash down on the plaza.

The pressure settled like a crushing weight, meant to drive weaker wolves to their knees. The doorman stumbled back, gasping and clutching his chest. Victoria sagged against the car even though the aura wasn't directed at her.

Brandon locked eyes with Leo. "Kneel, boy. Show some respect to your betters."

Leo didn't blink. He didn't shake. He just stood there, clutching the hem of my neon jacket.

"I said kneel!" Brandon roared, amplifying the command.

The glass doors of the Moonstone Hotel vibrated. A valet dropped a set of keys, falling to his hands and knees on the pavement, overwhelmed by the dominance display.

Nothing. Leo simply tilted his head, looking bored.

Brandon's face flushed a deep, violent crimson. A low growl rattled in his chest. His inability to break a five-year-old pup in front of his pregnant mate and the hotel staff snapped his fragile ego.

"You filthy, defective rogues," he snarled.

His hand shot out. Claws elongated from his fingertips, thick and razor-sharp.

He didn't aim for me. He aimed for the only thing of value I had left. My bike wasn't just transportation; it was my livelihood, my escape route, my only piece of independence.

With a vicious swipe, he raked his claws across the front tire of my custom motorcycle.

BANG.

The thick rubber exploded. The blast echoed across the plaza like a gunshot. The frame of the bike lurched sideways, metal grinding against the concrete as it collapsed off its kickstand.

I stared at the shredded tire. One deep, jagged claw mark severed the reinforced tread. The hiss of escaping air filled the sudden silence.

"Oops," Brandon sneered, retracting his claws. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a smudge of grease from his skin. "Looks like your ride is out of commission. Fitting for a beggar."

My fists clenched. The leather of my gloves creaked.

"You owe me a new tire," I said, my voice dangerously flat.

"I don't owe a rogue anything," he snapped, tossing the handkerchief onto my ruined wheel. "You're a stain on this territory. A pathetic drifter playing dress-up in a delivery uniform because you have no pack, no home, and no future."

"You're paying for that damage," I said, stepping toward him.

Brandon laughed, a cruel, echoing sound. "Who is going to make me? You? A weak little female with a bastard pup? You have nothing. You are nothing."

Victoria tugged his sleeve. "Let's go inside, Brandon. The smell of street trash is making me nauseous."

"Of course, my love," he said, smoothing his expression.

He turned toward the hotel entrance, but before he took a step, he glanced at the doorman.

Brandon raised his hand, pointing a single, commanding finger straight at me.

"Detain this troublemaking rogue until I'm finished with my business."

"Grab her," Brandon ordered, gesturing sharply at the two security guards. "Throw the pup on the street and lock her in the holding room until I decide what to do with her."

The guards in dark suits stepped off the curb, their hands reaching for the heavy batons on their belts.

I shoved Leo behind my legs. "Take one more step and I will break your arms."

The doorman sneered from the sidelines, crossing his arms over his gold-trimmed uniform. "You heard the Alpha. Detain the rogue. We do not tolerate threats here."

"I am not a rogue," I said, raising my fists, keeping my balance centered. "And he is not an Alpha. Just a pathetic bully who attacks parked motorcycles."

"Shut her up!" Victoria whined, clutching Brandon's arm and leaning her heavy belly against him. "She is ruining our check-in, babe. Make them take her away."

"With pleasure," Brandon said. He looked at the hesitant guards. "Are you deaf? I gave you an order."

The guard on the left lunged forward, his fingers outstretched to grab the collar of my neon jacket.

Before his hand could make contact, the pavement violently jerked.

A low, vibrating hum resonated through the soles of my steel-toed boots. The glass doors of the Moonstone Hotel groaned under a sudden, invisible pressure. Spiderweb fractures shot across the panes with a sharp series of pops, raining tiny glass shards onto the red carpet.

"What the hell?" Brandon muttered.

The air thickened. This was nothing like the clumsy pressure Brandon had forced on Leo earlier. This was true dominance—clean, undeniable, and sharp with the taste of ozone.

The two security guards collapsed. Their knees slammed into the concrete with a sickening crunch. The doorman followed, flattening himself against the red carpet, gasping for oxygen like a fish pulled from the water.

Victoria dropped to her knees, tearing the silk of her maternity dress on the pavement. "Brandon! Help me! It hurts to breathe!"

Brandon ignored her. His own knees buckled. His face drained of color as he fought the crushing force. He planted a hand on the hood of his Maybach, his knuckles turning white as he strained to stay upright.

Footsteps echoed across the silent plaza. Steady. Unhurried. Lethal.

A phalanx of men in immaculate black uniforms marched into the drop-off zone. At their center walked a man who made the very air around him burn.

Alexander.

He wore a tailored obsidian suit, the fabric perfectly fitted across his broad shoulders. Pinned to his lapel, catching the harsh plaza lights, rested the Royal gold brooch—a snarling wolf crowned in diamonds.

Three of his personal guards stepped forward in unison. The metallic ring of steel filled the space as they drew their swords, the polished blades glinting under the marquee.

"Secure the perimeter," the lead guard barked.

Alexander ignored the drawn blades. He ignored the kneeling hotel staff. He certainly ignored Brandon, who was now shaking against the car.

His gaze remained fixed on me.

He closed the distance between us in long, even strides. The terrifying pressure radiating from him vanished the second he reached my side, replaced by a deep, radiating warmth that settled into my bones.

"Aria," he murmured. His voice was a rich baritone that vibrated right through my chest.

He did not wait for my response. His hand slid around to the small of my back, pulling me flush against his solid chest. The movement was fiercely possessive, anchoring me to him in front of the entire plaza.

He lowered his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his lips brushing my skin.

"I am fine," I said, glancing at the ruined tire of my bike. "Just a minor delay."

Alexander's hand tightened marginally on my waist. He finally turned his attention outward.

Brandon stared, his jaw slack. His eyes darted from the Royal gold brooch on Alexander's collar to the hand resting on my hip.

"Y-Your Majesty," Brandon stammered, his voice cracking. He tried to bow, but his trembling legs betrayed him, dropping him to a pathetic, half-crouched position against the silver bumper of his car.

"You know this man?" Alexander asked me, his tone devoid of any warmth.

"Unfortunately," I replied. "He used to think he owned me. Now he just destroys my property."

Brandon's face contorted in panic. "Your Majesty, there is a misunderstanding. This female is a rogue. A stray. She was harassing my mate and me."

"Harassing you," Alexander repeated.

"Yes!" Victoria cried out from the ground, clutching her stomach. "She attacked us! She is dangerous!"

One of the Royal guards stepped forward, his sword pointed directly at Victoria's throat. "Silence. You do not speak unless the King addresses you."

Victoria choked on a sob, pressing her hands over her mouth.

Brandon swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. "Sire, I am Alpha Brandon of the Shadowmere Pack. I was merely disciplining a packless troublemaker. I had no idea she was... that she knew..."

"You were disciplining her," Alexander said.

"Yes, Sire. She refused to kneel. Her bastard pup refused to show respect."

Alexander shifted his stance. The terrifying weight in the air doubled.

Brandon hit the pavement. His chin cracked against the concrete, pinning him flat. A pathetic whimper escaped his throat.

"That pup," Alexander said, his voice dropping to a lethal calm, "is under my direct protection."

Leo peeked out from behind my leg, staring up at Alexander with wide, curious eyes. Alexander offered my son a brief, reassuring nod before turning his attention back to the trembling Alpha on the ground.

"And the woman you just called a stray," Alexander continued, "holds my highest favor."

Brandon gasped, struggling to lift his head even an inch off the ground. "Your Majesty... I did not know... I swear..."

"You slashed her tire," Alexander stated, glancing at the ruined motorcycle.

"It was an accident!" Brandon pleaded, his voice high and reedy. "A mistake!"

"A mistake," Alexander echoed. "Like the one you made ordering these guards to lay hands on her?"

"I was protecting my pregnant mate!" Brandon cried.

"You are a coward hiding behind a title you do not deserve," Alexander said.

He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. The absolute authority in his tone sliced through Brandon's pathetic excuses.

"Aria," Alexander said, keeping his eyes on Brandon. "What is the penalty for attacking a member of the Royal household?"

"I am not a member of your household, Alexander," I reminded him quietly.

"You are whatever I say you are," he replied smoothly. "Answer the question."

"Loss of rank," I said, staring down at my former mate. "And restitution."

Brandon let out a strangled noise. "No! You have no grounds to strip my Alpha title! I have a pack! I have an heir on the way!"

"Your pack will survive without a weak leader," Alexander said.

"Please!" Victoria begged from the sidelines, tears ruining her perfectly applied makeup. "He did not mean it! We will pay for the bike! We will buy her ten bikes!"

"You will buy her nothing," Alexander commanded. "Because you no longer have the funds to do so."

Brandon's eyes widened in sheer terror. "What?"

"I am seizing the Shadowmere accounts," Alexander announced, his voice ringing across the silent plaza. "Effective immediately. Your territory now belongs to the Crown."

"You have no right to do that!" Brandon screamed, thrashing against the invisible weight holding him down. "Over a motorcycle? Over a rogue?!"

"I do whatever I please," Alexander said. "I am the King."

Brandon stared up at him, broken. The arrogant Alpha who had thrown a single dollar bill at my feet five years ago was gone. In his place lay a ruined man, shaking on the concrete.

The plaza fell dead silent, save for the hiss of air still leaking from my ruined tire.

Alexander's golden eyes locked onto the trembling Brandon, his hand gripping my waist tightly.

"Look at me," Alexander commanded, his voice barely above a whisper.

Brandon flinched. The Alpha of Shadowmere remained pinned to the concrete, unable to lift his chin from the rough pavement. The invisible weight of the King's aura pressed him flat against the ground.

"I said, look at me."

Brandon forced his head up. His eyes met Alexander's, and the color drained from his face. The King's gaze was freezing, a suffocating force that left the plaza silent.

"Your Majesty, please," Brandon whimpered. "I have a family."

"Ah!" Victoria shrieked from the sidelines.

She grabbed her swollen belly, contorting her face into a mask of sudden agony. "Brandon! The baby! It hurts!"

She tried to crawl toward him, dragging her torn silk maternity dress across the red carpet. "Help me! The stress is causing contractions!"

"Victoria!" Brandon yelled, reaching a trembling hand toward her.

Before she could close the distance, a towering figure stepped into her path.

Gideon, the Captain of the Royal Guard, planted his steel-toed boots on the pavement. He did not draw his sword. He just stared down at her, an immovable wall of black uniform and muscle.

"Move!" Victoria screamed, clutching her stomach harder. "I am in labor! Are you going to let an Alpha's heir die on the street?"

"You are not in labor," Gideon stated. His voice sounded like grinding stones. "Your heart rate is steady. Your scent betrays no pain. Stay on the ground."

"You brute! I need my mate!"

Gideon merely crossed his arms. "Take another step, and I will consider it an act of aggression against the King."

Victoria froze. The fake tears vanished. She sank back onto her heels, her mouth snapping shut as she realized her performance had failed.

Alexander turned his attention back to Brandon.

"You value your property," Alexander observed, glancing at the silver luxury SUV parked in the VIP drop-off zone. "You value your status."

"Sire, I worked my entire life for my pack," Brandon pleaded. "Do not take everything from me over a ruined tire."

"You think this is about a tire?" I asked, stepping out from behind Alexander's protective hold.

Brandon glared at me, a flash of his old arrogance returning. "You stay out of this, Aria. This is between men."

Alexander's jaw tightened. "She is the only reason you are still breathing."

The King raised a single, gloved finger.

He didn't look at Gideon. He didn't need to.

The Guard Captain turned away from Victoria and marched straight toward the silver SUV. He reached into the trunk of the Royal transport vehicle parked nearby and pulled out a massive, long-handled sledgehammer.

Brandon's eyes widened. "Wait. What is he doing? That is a custom build! It cost me a fortune!"

Gideon swung the heavy steel hammer backward, his broad shoulders bunching under his dark uniform.

With a brutal grunt, he brought the weapon down directly onto the center of the SUV's hood.

CRASH.

The metal caved. A jagged crater formed in the pristine silver paint. The front grille snapped, sending pieces of expensive chrome flying across the pavement.

"No!" Brandon screamed, thrashing against the invisible force keeping him down.

Gideon did not stop. He ripped the hammer free and swung again, this time aiming for the windshield.

The heavy steel head connected with a deafening crack. Shattered glass exploded outward, raining tiny, glittering fragments over the red carpet and the concrete drop-off zone.

"Stop him!" Brandon begged, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. "Please! I just bought it!"

I watched the destruction, my pulse steadying. Five years ago, Brandon had driven away in a car just like that one, leaving me standing in the dirt with a single dollar bill. He had laughed at my tears. He had mocked my pain.

Now, he was crying over bent metal.

Gideon brought the hammer down a third time, obliterating the driver's side door. The frame buckled. The side mirror snapped off and bounced into the gutter.

"Alexander," I murmured, resting my hand on his arm.

He looked down at me, the ice in his eyes melting away. "Does it please you?"

"It is a good start," I admitted.

Leo tugged on my neon-orange courier jacket. "Mom, that man is breaking the bad Alpha's car."

"I know, baby," I said, smoothing his dark hair. "Stay behind me."

"Your Majesty," Victoria interrupted, changing her tactic. She pushed herself up, ignoring her supposedly agonizing contractions. "I had no part in this. Brandon acted on his own. I told him to leave her alone."

"Victoria!" Brandon snapped, betrayal flashing across his face. "What are you doing?"

"I am protecting our pup!" she shot back. She looked up at Alexander, batting her eyelashes. "Please, Sire. I am just a mother trying to survive. Punish him, but spare me."

Alexander didn't even blink. "Your loyalty is as cheap as your tears."

Gideon stepped closer to her. "Silence yourself, or I will remove you from the plaza."

Victoria shrank back, her lips trembling.

"The engine," Alexander ordered casually, not taking his eyes off Brandon. "Make sure it never starts again."

Gideon raised the hammer high. He brought it down directly on the engine block. A sickening crunch echoed through the plaza, followed by the hiss of leaking fluids. Dark oil pooled onto the red carpet, staining it black.

Brandon let out a gut-wrenching wail. "The engine! Do you know how long I waited for that?"

"You always thought you were untouchable," I told Brandon, stepping over a piece of broken chrome. "You built your entire life on stepping on people you thought were weaker than you."

"You are weaker than me," he spat, blood dripping from his chin where it had hit the concrete. "You have no wolf. You have no power."

"I have my dignity," I replied. "Something you clearly lost the second a stronger Alpha walked into the room."

"You manipulated him!" Brandon yelled, pointing a shaking finger at Alexander. "You used your pathetic sob story to get the King to fight your battles!"

"She didn't have to say a word," Alexander intervened.

Gideon lowered the hammer, resting the heavy steel head on the ground. He looked to Alexander for further instructions.

The King finally released the crushing pressure holding Brandon to the ground.

Brandon gasped, sucking in massive lungfuls of air. He scrambled backward, dragging himself toward the ruined shell of his vehicle. He touched the dented hood, his hands shaking hard.

"My car," he whispered, staring at the destroyed engine block.

Alexander stepped forward, his boots crunching over the shattered glass. He stopped just inches from Brandon's trembling hands.

"Did you think a broken windshield settled your debt?" Alexander asked, his tone flat and merciless.

Brandon flinched, pulling his hands away from the ruined metal. "You destroyed my vehicle. You humiliated me in front of my mate. What more do you want?"

"Humiliation?" Alexander echoed. "I have not even begun to humiliate you."

"I am an Alpha!" Brandon shouted, desperation making him reckless. "You cannot treat me like a common criminal!"

"You attacked a woman under my protection," Alexander said. "You threatened a child under my care. Your title means absolutely nothing to me."

Victoria crawled toward Brandon, grabbing his sleeve. "Stop talking, Brandon. Just let it go. We need to leave."

"Leave?" Alexander asked. "You are not going anywhere."

He gestured to the two Royal guards standing near the hotel entrance. "Confiscate their communication devices. Seize their luggage."

"You cannot do this!" Brandon yelled as the guards marched forward.

"I am the King," Alexander reminded him. "I can do whatever I deem necessary to protect what is mine."

He looked down at the pathetic Alpha, his expression devoid of any mercy.

"You have twenty-four hours. Tomorrow, the Royal Lycan Court will decide the fate of your territory."