When My Alpha Killed Our Pup, The Lycan Prince Saved Me

I stood on the stage beneath lights so bright they felt like they were burning through my skin. My hands were clasped in front of me, fingers knotted together to keep them from shaking. Around me, the Nightveil Pack Banquet Hall hummed with hundreds of voices—Alphas, Betas, visiting dignitaries from allied territories. Cameras on tripods lined the back wall, their red recording lights blinking like eyes. This was being livestreamed. Everyone would see.

Shane stood at the center of the stage in his ceremonial Alpha robes, the ones I had stitched for him three winters ago. Midnight silk threaded with silver wolf sigils that caught the light when he moved. He looked every inch the powerful leader. His voice boomed through the microphone.

"Tonight," he said, "we honor tradition and embrace the future of the Nightveil Pack."

The crowd roared approval. I felt my stomach twist.

Cameron Dunn ascended the stage from the opposite side, her heels clicking against the polished wood. She wore the gown I had finished two nights ago—cream satin with hand-embroidered luna moths along the bodice, each wing shimmering with enchanted thread that pulsed faintly under the lights. My work. My hands. My magic. She smiled at the crowd like a queen accepting her crown.

Shane gestured toward me. "Milana Palmer has served this pack for many years."

My throat closed. Served. Not honored. Not credited. Served.

"But as we move forward," Shane continued, his tone smooth and rehearsed, "we must acknowledge that some roles must evolve. Milana's talents, while... adequate, are no longer needed at the rank she has held."

The hall went quiet. I heard someone cough. A chair scraped.

Shane's eyes locked onto mine. Cold. Flat. "Effective immediately, I am demoting Milana Palmer to Omega status."

The words hit me like a fist to the chest. I couldn't breathe. Around me, gasps rippled through the crowd. An Omega. The lowest rank. The expendable ones. The invisible.

"Furthermore," Shane said, turning back to the audience with a magnanimous smile, "I am offering her continued service as a gift to my chosen mate, Cameron Dunn, who will ascend as the official Master Crafter of the Nightveil Pack and my Luna."

Cameron stepped forward, her smile widening. She placed a hand on her chest in mock humility. "Thank you, Alpha Shane. I am honored to accept this... tribute."

Applause erupted. Not from everyone, but enough. Enough to make it real. Enough to seal it.

I stood frozen. Years of work. Years of bending over looms in the basement, fingers bleeding, threading lunar blessings into fabric while Shane took credit. While he promised me the Luna title. While he held my mother's life hostage, threatening to pull her healer treatments if I ever spoke up. All of it collapsed in front of me, broadcasted to every territory that mattered.

I was nothing.

Then a voice cut through the noise. Deep. Commanding. It didn't shout, but every wolf in the room heard it.

"Ten million dollars."

The hall fell silent. Heads turned. I looked up.

A man stood near the back entrance, flanked by two wolves in formal Silvercrest uniforms. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a charcoal suit that fit him like armor. Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes like molten gold. The air around him felt heavy, thick with power that pressed down on the room like a hand on the back of every neck. Lesser wolves instinctively lowered their heads. I saw a Beta near the front actually bare his throat.

Lycan Prince Vincent.

I had heard of him. Everyone had. The heir to the Silvercrest Bloodline. Royalty among wolves. He never attended pack banquets. He didn't need to.

Shane's face went pale, then red. "Excuse me?"

Vincent walked forward, slow and deliberate. The crowd parted like water. His gaze never left me.

"Ten million dollars," he repeated. "For her freedom."

My heart hammered. Freedom. The word felt foreign.

Shane's jaw clenched. "This is a pack matter, Prince Vincent. With all due respect—"

"You just declared her Omega," Vincent interrupted smoothly. "Omegas can be bought, transferred, or released. You set the terms yourself, Alpha Shane."

The cameras were still recording. Shane knew it. The entire eastern territory was watching. To refuse a Lycan Prince's offer in front of allied packs would be a humiliation he couldn't survive.

Shane forced a smile. It looked like a snarl. "Of course. If the Prince wishes to... purchase her contract, we can discuss terms privately."

"No need," Vincent said. He reached the base of the stage. "I'll have the funds transferred tonight."

He climbed the steps. Each footfall echoed. He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could see the faint silver flecks in his gold eyes. Close enough that his scent hit me.

Burning cedar. Winter jasmine. Sharp and clean and overwhelming.

Something inside me jolted. My wolf, Solene, who had been silent and small for so long, suddenly stirred. A whisper. A flicker.

Vincent inhaled slowly. His pupils dilated. His entire body went rigid.

For a moment, the world narrowed to just us. His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. I saw his lips part slightly, his chest rise and fall faster. His wolf was there, right beneath the surface, clawing to get out.

*Mate.*

I didn't hear him say it. I felt it. In my bones. In the sudden, electric pull between us that made my skin hum.

He reached out, his hand hovering near my arm but not touching. "You're coming with me."

Behind us, Shane's voice turned sharp. "The transaction requires pack council approval. Guards, escort Prince Vincent to the diplomatic suite. We'll finalize paperwork in the morning."

Two Nightveil guards stepped forward. Vincent's jaw tightened, but he didn't resist. A Lycan Prince couldn't start a war in a neutral banquet hall. Not yet.

His eyes stayed on me as the guards flanked him. "This isn't over," he said quietly.

Then he turned and walked away, his Silvercrest wolves following.

The hall stayed silent until the doors closed behind him.

Then Shane grabbed my wrist and dragged me off the stage.