Word had reached Thornak long before his return.
Some of his men in their Lycan forms had run to meet him, intercepting him before he even crossed the southern ridge.
With a snarl, his hands were already shifting. Fur tore through flesh. Muscles expanded. Bones cracked and reshaped.
Jax surged forward. Thornak's Lycan form erupted with primal fury, massive, pitch-black, and built for war. His thick coat shimmered faintly in the moonlight, but it was his eyes that struck fear: not silver, like all other Lycans, but a searing, molten gold. The mark of the Alpha King.
Eyes that did not plead. Did not ask.
They commanded.
Behind him, Dain and Ruvan dropped their reins without hesitation, shifting in unison. Three Lycans streaked through the forest like thunder incarnate, leaping over stone and shadow. They didn't stop.
They couldn't.
Back at the palace, Queen Maravelle stood still as carved marble, serene in posture, but her hands were clenched behind her back.
Kael had been sent to the Northern Kingdom just the day before.
"A diplomatic errand," she'd claimed. Urgent. Specific.
And conveniently timed.
With him gone, no one stood in her way. No one left to question her motives. No one to stop what followed.
The palace shook.
Thornak shifted mid-stride as he arrived, steam rising from sweat on his skin, chest heaving with fury. Blood and dirt streaked his arms, but his eyes were ice.
He didn't wait to be announced.
He stormed into the Queen's chamber.
Maravelle turned, calm as ever.
"You dare imprison my mate?" he thundered, voice cutting like steel through silk.
"She was found with a letter," the Queen said coolly. "She's being held for questioning, nothing more. Until the matter is..."
"You sent Kael away so he wouldn't stop this," Thornak snapped. "You knew he'd stand against it."
Something flickered in her eyes. "The kingdom requires balance..."
"This kingdom has a King." He stepped in close, deadly calm. "And his Queen is rotting in chains while you play games with shadows."
Dain and Ruvan appeared behind him, silent and grim.
He didn't stay to argue.
He turned and went straight to the dungeons.
There she was, chained like a traitor. Her hair tangled, her wrists red and raw. But her gaze met his.
Steady.
Unbroken.
"Thornak..." she whispered.
He dropped to one knee, voice rough. "I should never have left you here."
His hands were gentle as he unchained her, but his fury coiled beneath his skin like a blade waiting to be drawn.
"They'll pay," he said. "Every last one."
Then he lifted her, cradling her against his chest like something sacred.
He carried her out of the dungeon.
And not a soul dared stand in his way.
Thornak brought her into his chambers with quiet urgency, the fury in his veins barely tempered by the feel of her weight in his arms. He didn't summon servants. Didn't shout. Didn't pace.
He laid her down gently on his bed, the only place in the palace he could trust. A sanctuary forged not of stone or rank, but of presence, his, beside hers.
He knelt beside her and tucked a soft blanket around her form, his hand brushing back the wild strands of her golden hair, his touch careful where bruises bloomed.
Then, as if something in him couldn't let go, he climbed into the bed beside her, drawing her into his arms with reverent strength. His hold was firm, but not possessive. Protective. Grounding. As if he could shield her from every blade the world might ever raise again. She looked so weak having been locked up for two days.
"I will burn this kingdom to the ground before I let them hurt you again," he whispered into her hair, the words meant for her skin alone not for any ears beyond these walls.
Her breathing slowed in his embrace, each shuddered breath giving way to calm. And slowly, as exhaustion stole over her battered form, Lara fell asleep in his arms.
Safe.
The fear that he wouldn't believe her, the shadow that had clung to her since the dungeon door closed was gone.
Thornak believed her.
He'd believed her the moment her eyes met his.
When Lara finally drifted into sleep, her breathing soft and even against his chest, Thornak held her as if she might vanish if he loosened his grip. Her fears, her trembling, gone. She'd fallen asleep in his arms, safe, her heart finally resting in the certainty that he believed her.
He didn't move.
Instead, his eyes, burning gold in the dim light, stared into the shadows beyond the chamber door. And through the bond of command, he mind-linked Ruvan.
"Find Dorian. Now. I want him released and given full treatment. If there's a scratch left on him when I next see him, heads will roll."
The response came sharp and loyal, "It will be done."
Then, without turning his head, Thornak opened a second thread. This one to Dain.
"Send hot water. Food. No one is to disturb this chamber. Not for any reason."
"Understood. I'll see to it myself."
He ended the links with a final thought: Tonight, I am not their king. I am her mate.
He looked down at Lara, tucked in his arms, and exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
For now, vengeance would wait. The kingdom would wait.
She came first.
Always.
Thornak sat on the edge of the bed, Lara still nestled against him, her breath warm against his neck. He didn't dare move, didn't want to. But a soft knock sounded at the door.
He growled low. "Leave it. Outside."
There was a shuffle, and then silence.
When he finally laid her gently on the bed and rose, he moved to the door, opening it just enough to retrieve the tray. Steam curled from the covered dishes, roasted meat, broth, spiced roots, and warm bread. Beside it, a small cauldron of hot water, cloths, and a balm made by the palace healer.
He set it all down carefully. One hand brushed against her cheek, too pale, too bruised, and he clenched his jaw.
Far below the palace, in the dungeon, Dorian was pulled to his feet by two guards, only to be met with Ruvan's icy stare.
"You're free. King's orders," Ruvan said. "You're to be taken to the healer. Now."
Dorian staggered slightly, one eye swollen, lip split, but his spine straightened.
"Where's Lady Lara?" he rasped.
"Safe. In the King's chambers."
Dorian exhaled in relief, the tension in his frame easing. "Thank the goddess."
"You took a risk, standing up for her," Ruvan muttered as they walked. "Most wouldn't have dared. The Queen would've had your head on a pike without blinking."
"I swore an oath," Dorian said quietly. "To protect her. That doesn't change just because someone gives a cruel order."
Ruvan's gaze narrowed with approval. "Good. Because the King is done being merciful."
Back in Thornak's chambers, the King soaked a cloth in warm water and gently wiped the grime from Lara's arms, her face, her neck. She stirred only once, but didn't wake. Her body had given in to exhaustion.
He dressed her wounds with care, each touch reverent, each glance carved with the promise of wrath to come.
Then he lay beside her, gathering her close again.
Outside the door, no one stood guard.
No one dared.
....
Selene stood at her window, watching the distant hills bleed into twilight. A slow, satisfied smile tugged at her lips at first. The girl had been chained like a mutt in the dirt, and Thornak had seen it. That should've been enough to sever the bond between them, or at least make him doubt her.
But instead... he'd turned savage.
She hadn't expected that.
He didn't even ask what Lara had done. Didn't hesitate. He shifted mid-run and stormed the palace like the wrath of the gods. Not once had he looked at Selene. Not once had he even acknowledged her.
And that, that stung worse than she dared admit.
Selene clenched her jaw, her hands curled into fists against the sill. She had been so sure. She was bred for court, polished and powerful, the Queen's favored daughter. She had trained her whole life to be the Luna beside the Lycan King. Yet one wolfless nobody had undone it all with wide eyes and a few broken chains.
But it wasn't over.
It couldn't be.
Selene turned from the window, her jaw set. She still had allies. She still had time. And if Thornak thought she'd surrender the crown to a girl dragged from the forest, bloodied and barefoot, he was more a fool than she thought.
Let him rage.
Let him love her.
It would only make his loss more painful when She tore her away from him piece by piece.
....
Lara stirred slowly, the warmth of the furs cocooning her like a shelter from a storm. Her body ached, but the pain was dull now, muffled by rest and something stronger, safety. She blinked up at the ceiling, then turned her head.
Thornak was still beside her, sitting in the armchair by the hearth, elbows on his knees, watching her as if she might vanish.
Lara's voice was barely above a whisper as she gathered the courage to speak. "Thornak... I didn't do it."
He cut her off gently but firmly, his eyes locking onto hers with unwavering certainty. "You don't have to explain. I believe you."
"You... believe me?" she murmured, as though the words didn't make sense in her mouth.
He leaned closer, brushing a curl from her face. "There was never a world where I wouldn't."
Tears welled in her eyes, but this time, they weren't born of fear or despair but relief, and for the first time in days, she smiled. Faint, but real.
Thornak took her hand and simply held it.
"You were framed," he said quietly. "And whoever did this I will find them, and make sure they answer for it."
He helped her sit up, and served her himself. She ate slowly, grateful, for she hadn't eaten since she was imprisoned. Her hands trembled at first, but Thornak said nothing, just placed his palm gently over hers until they steadied.
When she was done, she looked up at him and whispered, "Thank you."
Thornak nodded once, and lifted her gently into his arms. He carried her to the bath, the movement effortless, reverent. Setting her down, he placed a folded nightdress on the table beside the tub.
"I'll give you a moment," he said quietly, then turned and walked away.
When she emerged, damp hair cascading over her shoulders, the soft fabric clinging to her frame, he was at the desk, placing something down, his shoulders squared with effort. He turned at the sound of her steps.
And then he saw her.
The fire that had been coiled so tightly within him surged. Not wild. Not reckless. Just certain.
He crossed the room in two strides and took her in his arms.
Her breath hitched as Thornak's hand cupped her cheek, rough thumb grazing her jaw like she might vanish if he let go. She should've looked away. Should've said something. But his eyes burned into her, ancient, aching, sure.
Then he kissed her.
No warning. No words. Just truth, pressed to her lips.