Clara's POV
The gates of Blackmoor Castle loomed ahead—tall, cold, and iron-forged. Just like the man who ruled behind them.Lucas.Even the name tasted bitter on my tongue.The carriage slowed, wheels crunching against the gravel as my fingers tightened on the folds of my gown. I wore black—not for mourning, but for war. Silk draped over my frame like armor, the neckline sharp, the sleeves clawed. The sapphire pendant nestled above my chest, a gift from Ryker, glinted in the sunlight like a warning.Sora leaned in from across the cabin. "You're trembling.""No," I said flatly, staring ahead. "I'm alive."She didn't argue. She knew better. I had been many things in my past—omega, mate, prisoner. But today? I was the storm.The moment the footman opened the carriage door, I stepped out and into the lion's den.Eyes turned immediately. Gasps. Murmurs. The court, draped in silver and obsidian for the memorial, had not expected this. Not me. My presence was a blade across silk, jarring and unmissable.Councilmen exchanged wide-eyed glances. Warriors stiffened at the sight of Ryker at my side. But none of it mattered.Only one presence demanded my attention.Lucas.He stood across the courtyard, tall and motionless in his ceremonial black. His gaze collided with mine like thunder—raw, dark, furious. But beneath that fury, I saw something else.
Shock.
Desire.
Fear.
Good.
Ryker's hand ghosted over the small of my back, just enough to make a statement. "Ready to set the kingdom on fire?" he murmured, smirking."More than ever," I replied.We strode forward together, a united front, every step a defiance. The councilman at the entrance cleared his throat."Alpha Lucas… meet the Lady Clara Ravenshade—future Queen of the Lycans."The silence was absolute.Lucas didn't move. Didn't blink. His jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack."I thought you were dead," he growled at last, his voice low, hoarse."I was," I said, lifting my chin. "But death spat me out."Lucas stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "And now you're marrying my brother?""Yes," I said, steady as stone. "And attending your father's memorial, as a future queen should."The word queen landed like a blow.For a heartbeat, no one breathed,Ryker grinned like a devil beside me, clearly enjoying the unraveling tension.Lucas stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. "This isn't over."I smiled, sharp and cold. "It never was."Then I turned away from him—just like I had five years ago—only this time, it was on my terms.And this time, I wouldn't be the one drowning.He would.The hall inside Blackmoor Castle hadn't changed. The same cold stone walls. The same looming tapestries that bore the sigils of bloodlines steeped in war and power. But as I stepped through them, hand-in-hand with Ryker, the air shifted.I didn't belong to this place anymore. I would never belong to it again.No… it belonged to me now.The memorial was held in the Grand Court. Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass windows above the altar, casting silver and crimson patterns across the marble floors. The former king's portrait stood tall behind a bed of midnight roses and burning incense. A dozen noble families filled the pews, each turning as I passed, eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity, horror, and something else.Respect.Sora took her place behind me like a silent sentinel. Ryker guided me to the front pew, across from Lucas, who hadn't moved since we entered.His eyes were still on me. Still burning.I met them and let him see what he had made.Clara Ravenshade, reborn in fire.The officiant began to speak, droning on about legacy and bloodlines. I barely heard him. My focus was on Lucas. He hadn't spoken another word, but his posture told me everything. His fists were clenched, knuckles white. His wolf—restless beneath his skin. I could feel it, snarling against the bond we once shared.The bond he had tried to sever. The one that still shimmered in the air like a phantom thread.He hadn't rejected me properly.He'd abandoned me, abused me, but never spoken the sacred words that would have broken the tie. And now, in this charged silence, I knew why.Because part of him still thought I was his.The nerve.I leaned closer to Ryker, letting my fingers graze his forearm. His responding smirk was instant, his voice a rumble just for me."You're playing a dangerous game."I didn't flinch. "Then I hope they brought fireproof thrones.lAfter the memorial, the court was invited to the Hall of Mourning for the feast—a twisted ritual of mourning masked in politics and performance. I glided through the crowd like smoke, accepting nods and veiled questions with calculated poise.When Lucas finally cornered me, it was beneath the arch of the great hearth. His hand closed around my wrist, just firm enough to make a statement."Why him?" he hissed. "Why Ryker?"Because I needed someone as ruthless as you to finish what you started," I whispered, yanking my arm free. "And he was willing to do what you never could.""And what's that?" His voice was a low growl."See me," I said. "Not just the wolf. Not just the mark. Me."His chest rose and fell in heavy silence.I stepped back, letting my gaze rake over him one last time. "Tell me, Lucas… when you close your eyes at night, do you dream of the river? Or of the girl you left bleeding beside it?"He said nothing.But his silence screamed.And I turned, heart steady, spine unbent, as I walked back to Ryker.Because the war had begun.And I was done bleeding for men who only knew how to break things.Ryker was waiting near the towering obsidian columns, a goblet of red wine in hand and a smirk carved into his face like sin itself.