After My Mate Betrayed Me, I Became Lycan Royalty

The door to my guest suite didn't rattle before it swung open. Sullivan didn't bother knocking.

He stepped inside with two senior Ironclad enforcers flanking him. My Bloodmoon guards at the door were already stumbling back, clutching their temples as Sullivan pushed his Alpha tone through the doorway like a blast of foul heat.

"Get out," Sullivan snapped at my guards, his voice thick with compulsion.

He didn't wait to see them retreat. He turned his eyes on me, stepping deeper into the suite. He wore a crisp gray suit, his shoulders squared in that familiar micro-adjustment he always made right before he tried to sound invincible.

"Pack your bags, Claire," he commanded. His Alpha tone vibrated in the small room, heavy and demanding. "You’re going to withdraw that Council petition, walk out of here quietly, and come back to Ironclad territory. You owe me an explanation, and we are going to finish this where it started."

He spoke with the easy confidence of a man used to having people bend before his sentences even ended.

I sat behind the mahogany desk, my back firmly against the solid stone wall Caelan had promised me. I didn't move. I didn't flinch. I let his command wash over me until the vibration died into the drywall, leaving nothing behind but stale air.

I waited three seconds. Then I spoke at normal conversational volume.

"Lycan Council Charter, Statute Fourteen, Section B," I said evenly. "Any Alpha who enters the private quarters of a foreign delegation without prior written summons forfeits their speaking privileges for the duration of the Summit."

Sullivan frowned, his jaw tightening. "Claire, stop playing games—"

"Statute Twenty-One, Section D," I continued, sliding a crisp, printed sheet of paper across the desk. "Using an Alpha voice to intimidate or command guests housed under the Lycan Prince’s direct jurisdiction is treated as a low-grade territorial incursion."

I stood up and smoothed down the front of my jacket.

"And Statute Three," I added, meeting his eyes. "A formal grievance filed on those grounds triggers an immediate, mandatory Council review of your pack's border treaties. Take the paper, Sullivan. Read it on your way out."

Sullivan looked down at the sheet. He didn't pick it up, but his enforcers did. The two men behind him shifted their weight, their eyes darting nervously toward the open door. They knew the law, even if their Alpha was too arrogant to remember it.

Sullivan’s face darkened, veins standing out against his collar. For a second, his nostrils flared, catching the scent of wild jasmine and frost that Caelan’s pass had left on the desk. He swallowed hard, took a step back, and gave a stiff nod.

"This isn't over," he muttered.

"It hasn't even started," I replied.

He turned and strode out into the corridor. I walked over, caught the heavy brass latch, and clicked the door shut. The bitter scent of smoke and iron hung in the room for twenty minutes before the draft cleared it away.

***

Twenty minutes before the Alpha Reception, Cassian caught me near the west stairwell. He didn't look at me directly as he leaned against the stone balustrade, sipping cold black coffee from a paper cup.

"Lexi was watching from the end of the hall when Sullivan came out," Cassian said quietly, his voice barely louder than the air vents. "She pulled Sullivan's remaining two elders into the parlor five minutes later."

I paused, adjusting the cuff of my formal jacket. "What is she planning?"

"She thinks your power in the hall yesterday was a trick. She told the elders your wolf is still dead and you’re bluffing on empty rogue bravado. She wants to corner you in front of the entire assembly at the reception."

"How?"

"She’s going to invoke Luna authority," Cassian said, a faint, dry smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "She plans to declare you an unregistered rogue with no pack standing and order our warriors to drag you off the grounds. She thinks you’ll either bow down or fight back illegally so she can cry to the Council."

"She thinks I came here empty-handed," I murmured.

"She does." Cassian tossed his empty cup into a nearby bin. "Have fun."

***

The ballroom was lit by massive crystal chandeliers. Dozens of Alphas and their high-ranking officers stood in circles, sipping wine and comparing border treaties.

The moment I stepped past the arched entryway, the chatter near the center went quiet.

Lexi Peterson was standing right beneath the central chandelier. She wore an emerald gown with an exaggerated train, flanked by three Ironclad warriors. Her chin was held high, her lips painted a glossy crimson. The moment she spotted me, she took two theatrical steps forward, raising her voice so it cut across the entire room.

"Halt right there," Lexi called out, her voice dripping with artificial grace.

Conversation died across the hall. Wolves turned to look.

"As the Luna of Ironclad Pack," Lexi projected, looking around to ensure every Alpha was paying attention, "I will not stand by while an unregistered rogue wanders this Summit under false pretenses. You have no pack. You have no standing here. Enforcers, remove this woman from the grounds immediately."

Her warriors stepped forward, hands hovering near their belts.

I stopped walking. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't even look at Lexi.

Instead, I reached inside the lapel of my jacket, pulled out a folded cream document with an embossed silver crest, and held it out toward the nearest Council attendant.

"Bloodmoon Pack credentials," I said clearly. "Filed forty-eight hours before the Summit commenced. Countersigned by the office of Lycan Prince Caelan Ashford."

The attendant took the paper, unfolded it, and cleared his throat into the dead silence of the hall.

"Document verified," the attendant announced, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Claire Ashwood is the registered, official plenipotentiary for the Bloodmoon Pack. Full diplomatic immunity and primary seating rights granted under royal seal."

A ripple of low murmurs rolled through the room. Several Alphas smirked behind their glasses.

Lexi froze. The triumphant sneer on her face cracked, her skin flushing a blotchy, furious red. Her Luna authority, invoked so proudly before the entire continent's elite, had just made her look like a completely uninformed amateur who didn't even know who had registered for the Summit.

I didn't give her a second glance. I stepped around her frozen figure and walked toward my assigned table at the front of the room.

Across the polished floor, Sullivan stood near the bar. His knuckles were white around his glass, his jaw clamped shut so hard I could hear the grinding of his teeth.

He didn't say a single word to defend her.