After I Knelt, The Lycan Prince Recognized Me

I didn't sleep.

I stood at the window of the guest quarters the Blackridge Pack had assigned me — the same room I'd occupied for six months as an Omega, though no one had dared suggest I stay there now — and watched the sky shift from black to deep blue. Dawn was coming. My year was over. The clock had stopped ticking.

But my wolf was restless.

She paced inside my chest, agitated by the mate bond that had snapped into place so completely that I could still feel Princeton's presence even though he was miles away at the Silverfang compound. Dark cedar and smoke. The scent lingered in my senses like an echo I couldn't shake.

I shoved the feeling down and focused on what mattered. The investigation. Thalia's scheme. The forged documents that had nearly secured her a Luna title she had no right to claim.

Princeton had said it would begin tonight. I believed him. He was not the kind of wolf who said things he didn't mean.

I dressed in clean clothes — simple, practical, nothing that screamed royalty — and left the room. The hallways were empty. Most of the pack was still asleep, recovering from the banquet and the chaos that had ended it. I moved quietly, instinct guiding me toward the back exit, away from the main house.

I needed air. I needed space. I needed to think about what came next without the weight of every wolf in the territory staring at me like I was something they had never seen before.

I made it halfway across the courtyard before I caught the scent.

Wild jasmine and winter pine. My own scent, reflected back at me through the bond.

I stopped.

Princeton stepped out from the shadow of the training hall, silent as smoke. He was still in the formal clothes from the banquet, though his jacket was gone and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. He looked like he hadn't slept either.

We stood there for a long moment, ten feet apart, neither of us moving.

Then he spoke. His voice was low, steady, and completely without the Alpha tone he could have used. "Gage has the report."

I blinked. "Already?"

"He worked through the night." Princeton's gaze didn't waver. "Sera pulled every record Thalia submitted to the Silverfang healers over the past six months. Ultrasounds. Scent documentation. Pregnancy timeline. All of it."

"And?"

"Falsified." His jaw tightened. "The pregnancy is real. The father is Crue Sullivan. The mate bond claim was manufactured using scent-masking herbs applied daily to simulate my scent on her skin. The healer documents were forged. The timeline was coached."

I absorbed that. My wolf stirred, satisfied. "How thorough was she?"

"Thorough enough to fool a council that wanted to believe her." Princeton's tone was flat. "Not thorough enough to survive an actual investigation."

I looked at him. Really looked. His expression was unreadable, but his scent had shifted — darker, colder, the kind of controlled fury that didn't need volume to be felt. He was angry. Not at me. At the situation. At the woman who had spent months performing a claim that his wolf had rejected from the first breath.

"What happens now?" I asked.

Princeton's gaze held mine. "I confront her. Present the evidence. Dissolve the arrangement. She leaves Silverfang territory today."

I nodded slowly. "And the council?"

"They'll accept it." His voice was certain. "They wanted a Luna. They didn't want a fraud."

I believed him. Princeton Richardson was not the kind of Alpha who left room for argument when he had made a decision. His council would fall in line because the evidence was undeniable and because challenging a Lycan Prince over a dissolved arrangement was not a fight anyone wanted to have.

"Good," I said.

Princeton took a step closer. Not crowding, just closing the distance enough that I could feel the pull of the bond more acutely. My wolf responded immediately, pressing against my ribs, wanting him closer.

I locked her down.

He noticed. I saw it in the faint tightening around his eyes, the way his hands flexed once at his sides before going still again.

"Fallon." His voice was quieter now. "I need to say something."

I waited.

"I knew." He paused. "At the banquet. When you knelt. I knew it was you."

My breath caught. "You smelled me."

"Yes."

"And you didn't break my cover."

Princeton's gaze didn't waver. "You had fifty-six minutes left on your year. Breaking your cover would have voided the terms of your agreement with your father. I wasn't going to take that from you."

I stared at him. My wolf was quiet now, listening.

"But watching you kneel in front of that room—" His voice dropped, rough at the edges. "Watching Crue force you into that position while Thalia smiled — that cost me something my wolf isn't going to forget."

I didn't know what to say to that. The honesty in his voice was too raw, too unguarded. It didn't match the stone-cold Lycan Prince the rest of the world saw. It matched the boy I remembered from the training grounds, the one who used to watch me from across the sparring ring with dark, serious eyes.

"I survived," I said finally.

Princeton's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "You did more than survive. You threw Crue across the floor with one hand."

"He deserved it."

"He did." Princeton's gaze held mine for another long moment. Then he stepped back, giving me space again. "Gage will have the full report ready within the hour. I'll handle Thalia this morning. By noon, she'll be off Silverfang territory."

I nodded. "I want to be there."

Princeton's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his scent — approval, maybe. Or satisfaction. "You will be."

He turned and walked back toward the main road, moving with the same controlled precision he used for everything. I watched him go, my wolf tracking his scent until it faded into the distance.

Then I turned and headed back inside.

Maren Sullivan was waiting in the hallway.

She stood near the entrance to the main wing, hands clasped in front of her, face pale and drawn. The Beta Female of Blackridge Pack. Crue's mother. The woman who had spent a year assigning me the worst kitchen duties, making cutting remarks about my weak scent, reminding me at every pack dinner that I was beneath the Sullivan family's notice.

She looked at me now like she was seeing a ghost.

I stopped a few feet away and waited.

Maren opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "Princess Fallon. I—" Her voice cracked. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know who you were."

I didn't respond.

She took a shaky breath. "If I had known, I never would have— I would never have treated you that way. Please. You have to believe me."

I looked at her for a long time. My wolf was utterly calm. Uninterested.

"You didn't know," I said quietly. "But you still treated an Omega like she was disposable. You still made sure I understood I was beneath you. You did that because you thought I was powerless. Not because you thought I deserved it."

Maren's face crumpled.

I stepped past her without another word and kept walking.