The moment the words You're mine left his lips, my instincts screamed one thing—run.
My legs moved before my brain caught up, boots pounding against wet stone. Behind me, I heard the low, rumbling laugh of someone who wasn't worried about losing me.
The Lycan King didn't run. He followed.
Every few strides, I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see him vanish into the shadows. Instead, silver eyes glinted in the dark, unhurried but closing the distance like a predator playing with its prey.
The air between us felt charged, heavy. My wolf clawed at the surface of my mind, begging me to stop, to turn around, to go to him. I shoved her down, teeth gritted.
No matter what my wolf wanted, Kael Draven was the enemy.
The twisting alleys became my ally. I vaulted over crates, ducked under hanging laundry, and cut through narrow gaps between crumbling walls. The city was a maze, and I'd learned every path during the months I'd been hiding here.
But every time I thought I'd lost him, I'd catch his scent—wild forest, winter storms—and realize he was still behind me.
"Impressive," his voice called out, far too close. "Most humans can't outrun my scouts, let alone me."
"I'm not most humans," I snapped, darting into a side passage barely wide enough for my shoulders.
A shadow moved across the wall ahead. My muscles tensed. Not him—too small.
Two men stepped out from the darkness, faces half-covered by hoods, blades glinting in the dim torchlight. Rogues. I smelled the rot of their corrupted wolf blood even before they spoke.
"Well, look at this," one sneered. "Little mouse wandered right into our den."
I didn't bother answering. My dagger was in my hand before the first one lunged. I sidestepped, slashing across his arm. He yelped and staggered back, clutching the wound as silver burned through his corrupted veins.
The second came at me from behind. I spun, but before I could strike, something blurred past me.
A sickening crack echoed in the alley. The rogue dropped, neck snapped.
Kael.
He stood between me and the remaining rogue, radiating lethal calm. His eyes weren't silver now—they were glowing, almost white, a sure sign his Lycan was close to the surface.
The first rogue tried to run. Kael was faster.
In one smooth motion, he caught the man by the throat, lifted him off the ground, and slammed him against the wall. "Who sent you?" His voice was quiet, deadly.
The rogue's feet kicked uselessly. "Shadow—" The word cut off in a wet gurgle as Kael's claws sliced clean through his neck. The body crumpled at his feet.
I stared, pulse hammering. I'd seen death before. I'd caused it before. But something about the casual way he'd done it—efficient, precise, without hesitation—made my stomach twist.
He turned to me. Not a drop of blood stained him, as if death itself feared to touch him.
"You're welcome," he said, like snapping necks for strangers was an everyday favor.
"I didn't ask for your help."
"You'd be dead without it."
I shoved the dagger back into my sleeve. "And maybe that's better than owing you anything."
Something flashed in his eyes—annoyance, maybe amusement. "You owe me nothing… yet."
I took a step back, ready to vanish into the maze again. "Good. Then we can part ways here."
"You think I'm letting you go?" His voice was calm, but there was steel under it.
I lifted my chin. "You don't own me."
His gaze dropped to my arm. "Tell that to the mark."
I followed his eyes—and froze.
On my skin, just above my wrist, a faint red symbol glowed through the fabric. My breath caught. I yanked my sleeve down, but it was too late.
"That," he said, stepping closer, "means I can find you anywhere."
The glow dimmed, but my heart didn't slow.
"What did you do to me?" I demanded.
"Nothing," he said simply. "The bond did it."
"I don't believe in bonds."
"You will."
Before I could reply, he closed the distance, his scent wrapping around me, drowning out every other thought. He leaned down, voice low enough that it was almost a growl.
"Run again if you want. But next time, I won't chase."
I didn't move until he stepped past me, disappearing into the shadows he'd come from.
Only when I was sure he was gone did I look at my wrist again. The mark was gone—faded into my skin like it had never been there.
But I knew better.
Somehow, I had just become Bloodbound to the Lycan King.