Marked by the Lycan King

Okay... is she awake?"

"I think so."

"Good. That makes things easier."

Myra squinted as the voices reached her, her vision still blurred and heavy with sleep. Everything felt distant, like she was being dragged back into her body against her will. Slowly, shapes began to form in front of her, though she could barely make out their faces.

"It's good that you're awake," one of them said. "The Beta sent us to get you."

"Huh...?" The sound left her lips weakly, her mind struggling to catch up with what was happening.

She didn't understand, not until they pulled her to her feet and dragged her outside.

The moment sunlight hit her face, she froze. For a second, she couldn't breathe.

Then her chest tightened as emotion surged through her. The open fields stretched endlessly ahead, the fresh air brushing against her skin, and something deep within her stirred violently. Her wolf was restless, desperate to run.

"The Alpha wanted you to remain in the dungeon," one of them continued as they walked, "but Miss Lyka pleaded for you."

"You've even been given your old room back in the Alpha's house. You should be grateful."

"Grateful." The word echoed bitterly in her mind.

Lyka.

Lyka.

Lyka. She was so sick of hearing that name.

"Be grateful to Lyka."

"Appreciate Lyka."

"Thank Lyka."

By the time they reached the pack house, Myra's expression had gone completely blank.

Standing at the entrance was Alpha Ryan, her father, waiting for her.

His gaze dropped to her, filled not with concern, but with cold disdain.

"So, you're finally here," he said. She didn't respond.

"But before you step into my house again," he continued, his voice sharp and controlled, "there are a few things you need to understand if you want to avoid unnecessary problems."

Silence settled between them.

"First, you will obey your Aunt Daria in everything." A quiet, humorless chuckle slipped from Myra's lips.

"You mean your mistress? Your whore?" she asked, her voice hoarse but steady. "Because I don't remember my mother having a sister like that."

Pah!

Her head snapped to the side, the sting spreading across her cheek as she struggled to keep her balance.

"Watch your mouth," Ryan said coldly.

Myra lowered her gaze slightly, but there was no submission in her expression.

"From now on, you will remain in your room until after the wedding," he continued. "You are not to leave for any reason."

A brief pause. "After the wedding, a trial will be held to determine your punishment."

Myra's fingers curled faintly at her sides.

"And if you attempt to leave the pack," he added, his voice dropping into something darker, "you will be killed on the spot."

She lifted her head then, meeting his gaze fully.

"You would kill your own daughter?" she asked quietly.

Ryan didn't hesitate. "It is better than having my blood tied to a criminal."

The words settled heavily in the air.

Without another glance, he turned and walked away.

Myra stood there for a moment, unmoving, before finally stepping past the guards and into the house.

The moment she opened the door to her room, everything hit her at once. It was the same.

The same scent. The same space. The same silence.

Like nothing had changed.

Like her life hadn't been destroyed.

She stepped inside slowly, her fingers brushing against familiar surfaces, before something inside her finally gave way.

Myra collapsed onto the bed, clutching the sheets as the tears she had been holding back spilled over. Her body shook with silent sobs, the weight of everything crashing down on her at once.

She didn't know how long she stayed like that.

Time blurred.

Eventually, she forced herself up and made her way to the bathroom, turning on the water and stepping inside without hesitation. She scrubbed at her skin harshly, over and over again, as if she could wash away the dirt, the cell, the humiliation, everything that had been forced onto her.

It didn't work.

It would never work.

When she was done, exhausted and drained, she returned to her room and fell onto the bed, sleep claiming her almost instantly.

A sharp knock sounded at the door, pulling her out of her exhausted slumber.