The Lycan Kings Wrong Obsession Chapter 77

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Chapter 77

Chapter 77

I’m running.

That’s the first thing I know.

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Cold air tears at my lungs. Bare feet slap against packed dirt and stone, the ground uneven, familiar in a way that makes my stomach twist. The sky above is pale gray, like it hasn’t decided whether it wants to be morning yet. Wolves howl somewhere to my left–too close, too playful, the sound of children who don’t know how sharp their teeth will get one day.

Someone laughs.

Not me. A boy.

I skid around a corner and nearly collide with him. He’s taller than me, older, all elbows and knees and a grin too wide for his face. His hair is dark, falling into his eyes, and there’s a healing cut on his cheek like he loses fights on purpose.

“You’re slow,” he says, breathing hard but smiling like this is the best day of his life.

“Shut up,” I shoot back, even though I’m smiling too. My chest hurts in a good way. “You cheated p>

“I did not p>

“You absolutely did p>

He shrugs, unapologetic, then reaches out and grabs my wrist. His palm is warm. Solid. It makes my pulse jump.

“Come on,” he says. “They’re waiting p>

They.

The word lands heavy, like it means something important, but my brain refuses to explain it to me. I let him pull me anyway. We run again, slower this time, until the pack grounds open up ahead of us. Training rings. Stone benches. Banners snapping in the wind.

Two men stand near the edge of the ring.

One is broad–shouldered, scarred, his presence quiet but heavy, like the ground itself notices him. The other is laughing, clapping his hands as two younger boys spar clumsily in the dirt. They look proud. Tired. Close.

My head starts to ache.

Not a sharp pain. Worse. A pressure. Like something inside my skull is swelling, pushing outward, demanding

space.

The boy beside me lets go of my wrist.

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Chapter 77

“Hey,” he says, softer now. “You okay p>

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I try to answer, but the sound doesn’t come out. The ache spikes, turning my vision white around the edges. The men blur. The banners twist. The ground tilts.

I look at the boy again.

His grin is gone.

His eyes–gold. Too gold. Too familiar.

The world fractures.

I jolt awake with a gasp, my body jerking so hard the mattress creaks beneath me.

My heart is trying to punch its way out of my chest. Sweat slicks my skin, my nightdress twisted around my thighs. My head throbs, not like a migraine, but like it’s bruised on the inside.

“Fuck,” I whisper, dragging a hand down my face.

The room is dim, dawn just starting to bleed through the curtains. Woodridge Pack guest quarters. Same carved headboard. Same faint smell of pine and iron and old stone. My throat feels tight, like I’ve been crying, but my cheeks are dry.

I sit up slowly, waiting for the memory to settle into something usable.

It doesn’t.

It just… dissolves. Leaves impressions. A sense of loss I can’t name. Familiar faces with no labels. Emotions without context. Like my brain is hoarding secrets out of spite.

Dad.

The thought comes uninvited, and my chest tightens.

I try to focus on him–his voice, his hands, the way he used to stand slightly to the side in every room like he didn’t want to take up too much space. The memory stutters. Skips. There’s a blank where answers should be.

I press my fingers to my temples and breathe through the ache.

Last night is worse.

The bath. The painting. Alaric’s face when I asked that question.

Have we met before?

I don’t remember passing out, but the heaviness in my limbs tells me I did. Whatever I unlocked, my body decided it was enough for one night.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed—and freeze.

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Chapter 77

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There’s noise outside. Not the usual quiet shift changes or lazy patrols. This is fast. Purposeful. Boots on stone, Orders being snapped. Fabric rustling. Metal clinking,

I stand, heart starting to race again, and cross to the door. I don’t bother fixing my hair or changing. I yank it open and step straight into chaos.

Servants are hauling trunks down the corridor. Two wolves jog past with rolled banners under their arms. Someone nearly bowls me over carrying a crate of weapons.

“What the hell is happening?” I demand, my voice rough.

No one answers.

Cool. Love that for me.

I move faster, barefoot on the cold stone floor, following the flow toward the central grounds. The dawn light hits my eyes as I step outside, and I have to squint against it.

The pack is already awake.

Too awake.

Luggage is being loaded. Horses are being saddled. Wolves move in tight formations, all business, no curiosity. And there–near the center, issuing orders like this is just another Tuesday—is Alaric.

Of course it fucking is.

He’s fully dressed, dark shirt fitted to his chest, sleeves rolled just enough to show forearms that should be illegal in public spaces. His hair is tied back, sharp jaw already dusted with stubble. He looks infuriatingly put together.

Like he’s been awake for hours.

Like this was planned.

I scan for a familiar face and spot Cassian striding past with a ledger tucked under his arm.

I intercept him, grabbing his sleeve. “Hey. No. Don’t walk past me like I’m furniture. What’s going on p>

Cassian slows, looks down at me, then flicks his gaze over my shoulder toward Alaric.

That’s his answer.

“Oh, fuck that,” I snap and release him.

I storm across the grounds without slowing. Gravel bites into my feet, but I don’t care. Alaric turns at the sound of my approach, his eyes dropping instantly to what I’m wearing.

Or rather, what I’m not.

The reaction is immediate.

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Chapter 77

A low snarl rips out of him, sharp and territorial, and every wolf within earshot freezes.

“Eyes up,” he orders, voice lethal. “Every single one of you p>

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Then he’s shrugging off his long coat and stepping into my space before I can say a word, draping it over my shoulders and pulling it closed with firm hands.

“Jesus Christ,” I hiss. “I didn’t come out here for fashion commentary p>

“You came out here half–naked,” he shoots back quietly. “That’s on you p>

“I came out here because my life apparently gets rearranged without my consent p>

I shrug his coat tighter around myself and lift my chin. “Why are we leaving p>

Now.

Not later. Not deflected.

His mouth curves into a lazy smile, all charm and heat and practiced ease. “Good morning to you too p>

“Alaric p>

“We’re heading home,” he says lightly. “Imperial Pack. You’ll love it. Better food. Less judgmental stares p>

I slap his hand away when he reaches for my hair. “Don’t. Don’t do that p>

His smile flickers. “Do what p>

“Act like this is cute. It’s not.” I lower my voice as a few Woodridge wolves linger too close. “I’m not done here p>

He sighs like I’ve asked him for something unreasonable. “Sorin p>

“I haven’t finished what I came to do,” I cut in. “I haven’t gotten my revenge yet p>

His gaze sharpens, the humor dimming. “That place doesn’t deserve your energy p>

“That place ruined my life p>

“That place is beneath you p>

I step closer, dropping my voice further. “I didn’t come back here to leave things unfinished. I didn’t come back just to feel small again and walk away p>

He looks away from me.

That’s new.

“We’re going home,” he says, tone flat. Final. “End of discussion p>

And he turns back to Cassian like I’m dismissed.

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Oh, absolutely not.

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I grab his hand with both of mine before he can take another step. I soften my grip. My voice. I press his palm to my cheek, lean into him like this is easy, like I haven’t been fighting my way through hell for years.

“Please,” I say quietly. “Just a little longer p>

His body responds before his brain does. I feel it–the shift, the way his shoulders ease, the way his thumb presses into my skin like he’s grounding himself.

“I need to finish this,” I murmur. “I need them to feel it p>

His jaw tightens. I don’t understand why he wanted to go home all of a sudden! This is my revenge and he told me I could use him all I want!

“I also need to know,” I add, carefully, “what really happened to my father p>

All of a sudden, the effect is instant.

He yanks his hand free like I’ve burned him.

His entire body goes rigid, the warmth vanishing from his expression. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks. “We’re leaving,” he says, voice hard. “Now p>

Something clicks into place inside my chest.

Last night. The pain. The memory. The question I didn’t know why I asked.

“Is this about…” I ask slowly. “About what happened last night? When I blacked out p>

Silence. Alaric doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe.

And in that stillness, with the pack watching and my heart pounding and far too many unanswered questions pressing down on me, I know one thing for certain.

This isn’t over. Not even close.

I don’t breathe.

Not because I can’t–but because if I do, something ugly is going to come out of my mouth, and Alaric will drag me out of Woodridge through carrying me if he has to and declare war before breakfast.

The pack is frozen around us. Dawn light bleeds through the arches, pale and unforgiving, catching on silver rank pins and half–packed trunks. Wolves move like they’re following a drill they weren’t allowed to explain to me. No one meets my eyes for long.

Alaric still hasn’t turned back around.

That alone tells me everything.

I straighten under his coat and take one step forward. “You going to tell me,” I say lightly, “or should I just

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Chapter 77

start guessing wildly in public p>

Cassian clears his throat from somewhere behind us. That’s never a good sign.

Before anyone can answer, footsteps echo down the hall.

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Wade appears from the corridor, dressed too neatly for this hour, spine straight, expression carefully respectful. He stops when he sees us – sees me–and something slips in his face before he can catch it.

Hope.

It’s small. Barely there. But I see it. He’s hoping I stay longer.

“Your Majesty,” he says, dipping his head toward Alaric. Then, quieter, to me, “My Queen p>

Alaric finally turns.

And the temperature drops.

“Yes,” Alaric says calmly. “We’re leaving p>

Wade blinks. “Already p>

Alaric steps closer to me, close enough that his arm brushes my waist. Then he doesn’t stop. He pulls me in, firm and unmistakable, hand settling at my lower back like a claim stamped in flesh.

“Woodridge Pack has been,” he says, glancing around the watching wolves, “inconvenient p>

His thumb presses once into my spine.

“My woman had a difficult night being accused and all p>

The words land exactly where he intends them to.

Wade stiffens. His gaze flicks to my bare legs, the nightgown, the coat. Whatever he’s thinking, it isn’t subtle.

I tilt my head and smile sweetly.

Then Ariel’s voice floats in like poison wrapped in lace.

“Oh. That’s such a shame p>

She steps into view, hands folded over her stomach, face soft, eyes shiny. She looks like grief with good posture.

“I was hoping we’d have more time,” she says gently. “I still haven’t properly apologized to Sorin. For everything p>

Murmurs ripple through the pack. Sympathy shifts. I can feel it sliding toward her like gravity.

Cute.

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I look at Alaric. He’s watching her like he’s deciding where to bury the body.

An idea sparks.

I rise onto my toes, grab him by the back of the neck, and kiss him.

Not polite. Not brief.

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I feel the split second of surprise–then his hand clamps around my waist, hauling me flush to him as he angles us just right.

So Wade can see.

So Ariel can see.

His mouth is hot and unrepentant, and for half a second, I forget where we are. Then I pull back, breathless, forehead resting against his.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “Nerves p>

His eyes burn. “You’re playing a dangerous game p>

I grin. “Always p>

I turn and walk straight toward Ariel.

Her smile tightens as I stop in front of her. I glance down deliberately, then back up.

“Oh,” I say brightly, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You should probably call me Her Majesty now p>

Her jaw twitches.

“Since I’ll be Queen soon,” I add, tapping my chin like I’m thinking it through. “Titles matter p>

I reach out and place my hand over her stomach.

She flinches.

“Congratulations,” I say, voice syrup–sweet. “The future heir of Woodridge Pack. How… strategic p>

Her skin goes rigid under my palm. I feel the tremor she can’t hide.

Wade swallows hard.

I turn to him. “You’ll take good care of the child, won’t you?” I ask pleasantly. “They deserve stability p>

Then I lean in, close enough that only she can hear me.

“I’m not done,” I whisper. “Not until you’re ruined the way I was p>

Her breath shudders.

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Chapter 77

I step back, smile once more, and turn away.

“Fine.” I say, walking back to Alaric. “Let’s go home p>

The carriage door slams shut behind us.

The space is tight. Heavy. The kind of quiet that presses on your ears.

I drop onto the seat, adrenaline draining fast. My hands start to shake, so I shove them under my thighs.

Cassian faces us, expression unreadable.

“The Imperial Council convened an hour ago,” he says evenly. “A unanimous decision has been made and they’ve sent a letter p>

I look up. “About what p>

Alaric doesn’t look at me.

Cassian continues. “Before the coronation proceeds, a Luna Battle has been declared. Everyone mst fight to death to know who is the strongest p>

My stomach drops. Fight? To death?

“Multiple candidates,” he adds. “One throne p>

I stare at him.

“What,” I say.

The carriage lurches forward.

And the gates of Woodridge disappear behind us.

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