After My Alpha Betrayed Me, I Found the Lycan King

The iron gates loomed before me like the entrance to hell.

I collapsed against them, Papa's weight finally too much for my shaking legs. The metal was cold and unforgiving beneath my palms as I gripped the bars, my father's blood mixing with rain and mud on my hands.

"Marcus!" My voice cracked, raw from screaming. "Marcus, please!"

Movement in the packhouse. Lights flickering on in windows. Faces appearing behind glass, then quickly disappearing. No one wanted to be seen helping the Omega and her traitor father.

But I saw him—Marcus Webb, the Head Healer, standing in the doorway with his medical bag already in hand. His face was pale, conflicted. He took one step forward.

"Marcus, please." I pressed my face against the bars, tasting rust and desperation. "He's dying. You have to—"

"Stop."

The voice came from above. I looked up through the rain and saw him on the second-floor balcony. Luca. My mate. The man my father had trained from a boy into an Alpha.

Brittany stood beside him, holding an umbrella over his head. They were dry. Comfortable. Safe behind their walls while we bled in the mud.

"Luca." His name tore from my throat. "Please. I'm begging you. Just let Marcus through the gates. That's all I'm asking. Please."

Papa's breathing rattled beneath me, each exhale weaker than the last. The bond between us was a fraying rope, and I could feel every strand snapping.

Luca's eyes met mine. For one desperate second, I thought I saw something flicker there—recognition, maybe. Regret. But then his face hardened into stone.

"Marcus." His Alpha tone rolled across the courtyard like thunder. "You will not move from that doorway."

I watched Marcus freeze mid-step, his body going rigid under the command. His medical bag slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a dull thud.

"No." The word came out broken. "No, you can't—"

"Guards." Luca's voice was calm. Measured. Like he was discussing the weather instead of condemning a man to death. "The gates remain locked. Resources are for loyal pack members, not the families of terrorists."

Terrorists. He kept using that word. Kept painting us with that lie until everyone believed it.

"He trained you!" I screamed up at him, my voice shredding. "He taught you everything you know! He was loyal to this pack for thirty years!"

"And his daughter tried to murder me." Luca's tone didn't change. "Actions have consequences, Evelynn. You should have thought about that before you planted those bombs."

Brittany leaned closer to him, whispering something that made her smile. The umbrella tilted, and for a moment I saw her face clearly. She wasn't just satisfied. She was triumphant.

This was what she wanted. What they both wanted.

"Luca." Papa's voice was so faint I barely heard it over the rain. "Please. Not... Evie. She's... innocent."

Even dying, he was trying to protect me.

Luca looked down at the man who'd been like a father to him, and his expression didn't change. "The gates stay closed."

Then he turned his back and walked inside. Brittany followed, the umbrella disappearing into the warm, dry packhouse. The balcony door clicked shut with a sound like a coffin closing.

I looked down at Papa. His eyes were still open, still focused on my face. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry." My tears fell onto his cheeks, mixing with the rain. "I'm so sorry, Papa. This is my fault. All of this is—"

"No." His hand found mine, his grip so weak I barely felt it. "Not... your fault. Never... your fault."

The bond between us flickered. Dimmed.

"Don't leave me." I pressed my forehead to his, my whole body shaking. "Please don't leave me alone with them. I can't do this without you. I can't—"

"Strong." His thumb brushed across my knuckles one last time. "My... strong girl. Love... you."

The light in his eyes went out like a candle in the wind.

The bond snapped.

And I screamed.

The sound that tore from my throat wasn't human. It was animal. Primal. The howl of a wolf who'd lost everything and had nothing left to lose. It cracked my voice, shredded my vocal cords, and echoed across the packhouse grounds like a curse.

Behind the windows, faces appeared again. Watching. Witnessing. Doing nothing.

I held Papa's body against the iron gates and screamed until I had no voice left. Until the rain washed away my tears and his blood and any last shred of hope I'd been clinging to.

When I finally fell silent, the packhouse was dark again. Everyone had gone back to their warm beds and their safe lives.

And I was alone in the mud with my father's corpse, locked outside the gates of the only home I'd ever known.