Forsaken by the Pack, Mated to the Secret Lycan King

Kain POV

The scent of aged mahogany, expensive leather, and centuries of absolute power hung heavy in the air of the top-floor office at Blackstone Tower.

I stood before the massive obsidian desk. Behind it sat Almon Blackwell, the former Lycan King and my father. He swirled the amber liquid in his crystal decanter, his ancient eyes narrowing at me.

"I married Adelina Wolfe," I stated, my voice a low rumble that vibrated against the glass windows overlooking Manhattan.

Almon paused, the glass halting near his lips. "A wolfless Omega? You've rejected every highborn female on this continent for centuries, Kain. And you bind yourself to a broken stray?"

I didn't bother explaining. Instead, I pushed a single, heavily guarded phrase through our mind-link.

*White Wolf.*

The crystal glass shattered in Almon's grip. The amber liquor spilled across the desk, but he didn't notice. His eyes flared with a sudden, ravenous hunger. The Moon Goddess's direct bloodline.

"Her inner wolf is dormant," I continued, my Lycan pacing restlessly beneath my skin at the thought of her. "She's like a cornered animal. If a Lycan approaches her directly, she'll bolt. The mating contract was the only way to leash her legally and keep her close."

Almon stood up, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He instantly saw the empire-building potential—the invincible heirs she would give us.

"I need the Blackstone network to erase 'Babe Vincent' completely," I demanded. "Build an impenetrable firewall around her. Jase Davenport and the Parrish family are not to touch a single hair on her head."

"Consider it done," Almon agreed, his voice thick with dark excitement. "The highest protection protocol for Adelina Blackwell is active."

*

Adelina POV

The cramped back seat of the yellow cab smelled of cheap pine air freshener and worn vinyl, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm aura Kain had left on my skin.

Suddenly, my phone chimed—a deep, encrypted ping I had never heard before.

I opened the screen. It was a notification from an exclusive Swiss private bank, the kind that only dealt with the highest-ranking Packs.

*Account Activated. Credit Limit: $12,000,000.00. Guarantor: Blackstone Financial Empire.*

I stared at the zeros, my heart slamming against my ribs. *Blackstone.* Kain Blackwell. He must have cashed in some forgotten, obscure family trust to get this. I had assumed he was just a disgraced rogue drowning in debt, but he actually had hidden leverage.

Twelve million dollars.

A breathless laugh escaped my lips. For the first time in my life, I wasn't a helpless, wolfless Omega waiting for scraps. I had a weapon. I had freedom.

I didn't waste a second. I tapped the screen, immediately booking the penthouse suite at The Plaza Hotel. Next, I wired a massive retainer to an elite private security firm, ordering a 24-hour detail and a high-end moving crew to extract the rest of my belongings from Jase's building.

An hour later, I stood in the center of my new suite. Cream walls, gilded molding, and the clean scent of fresh-cut flowers filled the air. It was a true, safe den.

My phone buzzed with an update from the security captain: *Extraction complete. A black Davenport SUV approached the perimeter but retreated upon seeing our numbers.*

A triumphant smile touched my lips. Jase was already looking for me, but he couldn't touch me now. I was untouchable.

I walked over to the massive window overlooking Central Park, wrapping my arms around myself. I was physically free, but as the adrenaline faded, the blood of a former Alpha that ran in my veins reminded me of my duty.

I still had one final tie to sever. The physical "Henderson Pack Alliance" file—a document crucial to the stability of several Packs—was still locked in my desk at Davenport Tech. I couldn't trust Jase not to ruin the alliance out of sheer arrogance.

Tomorrow morning, I would walk into that office, hand over the file, and then I would be done with Jase Davenport forever.