My Mate Betrayed Me for the Lycan Princess

"Go to hell, Reid," I spat, the metallic taste of blood coating my teeth. "I'm not signing anything."

Reid's jaw tightened. The charm he wore like a second skin vanished, leaving behind the cold, calculating stranger he truly was. "I figured you'd be difficult. But I can't leave loose ends, Juliet. Not when Maren's crown is almost mine."

He stepped back. The air in the small room seemed to drop ten degrees. My inner wolf, buried deep in her trauma-induced coma, stirred blindly in the dark, sensing the executioner's blade.

"I, Reid Wallace," his voice boomed, laced with a cruel, forced alpha command, "reject you, Juliet Morales, as my mate."

The words didn't just hurt. They tore through my flesh. It felt as if a jagged, rusted hook had been driven into my chest, latching onto my soul, and was violently ripped out. I screamed. My back arched off the sterile mattress, my freshly bandaged ribs screaming in protest. The invisible, sacred tether connecting my spirit to his snapped, leaving a gaping, bleeding void in my chest.

I writhed on the bed, gasping for air that wouldn't fill my lungs. Through my blurred, tear-filled vision, I saw Reid casually reach past my thrashing body. He grabbed my leather-bound notebook—the alliance plans, my life's work—from the bedside table.

"Goodbye, Juliet," he murmured.

But he wasn't done. His hands clamped down on my bruised arms, and he hauled me off the bed. My legs gave out instantly, but he didn't care. He dragged my half-conscious, agonizingly broken body out of the safe house and into the freezing night air.

A rusted, windowless van idled in the dirt driveway. The stench of decay, cheap alcohol, and feral wolf hit me like a physical blow.

A massive man stepped out of the shadows. Viktor Blackwood. His face was a roadmap of jagged scars, and his yellow eyes locked onto me with sickening hunger. He was the leader of the most ruthless feral rogue gang on the continent.

Reid shoved me forward. I collapsed into the frozen mud at Viktor's heavy combat boots.

"She knows the royal pack house layouts," Reid said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Every security blind spot. She's yours."

Viktor tossed a thick envelope of cash onto Reid's chest. Reid caught it, thumbing through the bills to ensure his payment for my life was exact. "Keep her quiet," Reid added.

"She won't see the sun again," Viktor grunted. He grabbed me by the hair, hauling me off the ground. I cried out as my scalp burned, but Reid had already turned his back. He walked away, slipping the cash into his tailored suit, not even flinching as Viktor's men threw me into the back of the van. The heavy metal doors slammed shut, swallowing me in pitch black.

Hours later, the abandoned warehouse smelled of motor oil and old blood. I was strapped to a rusted metal chair, my chin resting on my chest. Every breath was a battle.

"The codes, Juliet," Viktor growled, pacing in front of me. His knuckles were bruised from the last hour of using my face as a punching bag. "Give me the royal patrol routes, and I'll let you sleep."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My jaw was swollen shut, my body a canvas of black and purple.

Frustrated, Viktor delivered a brutal kick to my stomach.

The chair tipped backward, crashing onto the concrete floor. My head slammed against the stone, but the impact was nothing compared to the sudden, violent tearing in my lower abdomen.

It was a deep, agonizing cramp. A warm, heavy rush of fluid soaked through my torn clothes, pooling beneath me on the freezing floor.

My wolf let out a faint, dying whimper in my mind.

Even through the stench of the warehouse, my heightened senses caught the scent. It was faint. Metallic blood mixed with the soft, sweet smell of milk and Reid's signature pine.

A pup.

I was pregnant. I hadn't even known. And now... it was gone.

Reid's child. My child. Washed away on a filthy warehouse floor because the man who helped create it had sold us to monsters to buy a fake princess.

Viktor laughed above me, a cruel, grating sound. "Look at that. Didn't know you were carrying a mutt. Guess I did you a favor."

For a moment, the sorrow threatened to drown me. A suffocating wave of grief washed over my broken body, threatening to pull me under for good. But as I lay there in my own blood, staring at the rusted ceiling, the paralyzing despair began to change.

The tears stopped falling. The trembling in my limbs ceased.

The sorrow died, freezing over into something entirely new. Something cold, hard, and terrifyingly calm. The scared, heartbroken rogue who just wanted to be loved vanished. In her place, the Lycan Princess awoke, baptized in blood and absolute rage.

I wasn't just going to survive this. I was going to burn their entire world to ash.