(Dual POV)
Leonardo's pov
The first thing I taste is blood.The second is loss.
I wake to the crackle of dying flames, to the scent of burned leather and wet iron. My vision swims. The world is nothing but ruin — shattered banners, trampled earth, the moans of soldiers who won't live till dawn.
They say kings don't die easily. But I did. A dozen times over.
I drag myself up, hand pressing against the gash that runs from shoulder to rib. It should've killed me. Maybe it did. The suppressant venom still eats at my veins, dulling the wolf's strength, turning my bones to sand.
But something else keeps me breathing.Or rather — someone.
Evne.
The mark burns faintly at the base of my neck — not with warmth, but absence. The tether between us is fraying, stretched impossibly thin, as if she's slipping beyond the reach of this world.
"Evne," I rasp into the empty field. The only answer is the wind.
The surviving troops gather around the remnants of the camp. I don't see Voren's body — just his sword driven into the dirt like a curse. The bastard vanished in the chaos. Typical.
Carden approaches, face pale beneath the soot. "Majesty, the capital's scouts brought a message. It's… urgent."
He hesitates.
"Say it," I growl.
"It's the Omega," he says quietly. "She's gone."
My heart stops.
"Taken," he adds, lowering his head. "The palace guards said a diplomatic envoy from the Neutral Nations arrived at dusk. They claimed her by blood right. There was… resistance, but the council approved it once her identification was confirmed."
Blood right.Confirmed.
The words twist in my skull.
"They say she's the lost daughter of the Neutral Alpha House — Princess Evania Kael Romanov. The true heir to the Neutral Thrones."
The ground tilts beneath me. I stumble back, nearly laughing at the absurdity of it.Princess.The woman who lived in a closet-sized room, who scrubbed floors and burned her tongue on instant noodles — a princess?
No.
But the mark in my neck hums in acknowledgment, as if it knew.
The truth hits harder than any blade.
I turn to Carden, voice like gravel. "Prepare the riders. I want her location before the next moonrise."
"Majesty, the council forbade—"
"I am the council," I snarl. "And she's my bonded. If the Neutral Thrones think they can touch her, they've declared war."
The Beta bows, but I can see the fear in his eyes — not of battle, but of me.
I don't care.
If the world wants a monster, I'll give them one.
First Person POV
When I wake, I'm surrounded by silk.
Soft, suffocating silk that smells like unfamiliar gardens and ancient bloodlines. The air is too clean, too cold.
My wrists ache. They're not chained, but the weight of control hangs heavy in the room — in the marble pillars, the guards stationed beyond the golden doors, the subtle hum of suppressants in the air vents.
I know where I am before anyone says it.
The Neutral Palace.
The last place I ever wanted to see again.
The last place I ever called home.
I sit up slowly. The memory comes in flashes: the hooded figures, the sting of a needle, the way my body refused to shift. The faint scent of my ex-husband lingering by the carriage door as they dragged me away.
He didn't even look at me when I screamed.
The bastard turned me in.
The door opens with a hiss of perfumed air.
A tall man enters, silver-haired, eyes like polished steel — too familiar. My eldest brother, Alpha-General Kael Romanov.
"Little sister," he says, voice smooth, practiced. "You've caused quite the spectacle."
I glare. "You drugged me."
He shrugs. "You ran away first. A kingless Omega parading as commoner — did you think no one would notice when your mark flared under a foreign Alpha?"
The mention of Leonardo sends a pang through my chest. I press a hand to my neck, but the mark feels faint — muted by the suppressants they've laced into the air.
"What do you want, Kael?" I demand.
He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You're coming home. The council needs unity. With Voren's uprising in the east and the Crimson Houses turning against us, we can't afford a missing heir."
"I'm not your heir," I spit. "I'm not your anything."
He sighs — a sound that belongs more to a soldier than a brother. "You are what the world made you, Evania. Whether you like it or not."
Evania. That name feels foreign now, like it belongs to someone long dead.
"I have my own life," I whisper. "My own bond."
Something flashes in his eyes — disapproval, maybe pity. "That mark," he says quietly, "is temporary. A product of desperation, not destiny. You'll heal from it. We'll purge his influence."
"Don't you dare—"
He raises a hand, and the guards stiffen. "Rest," he says. "We'll talk again when you're calmer."
The door shuts, and I'm left alone with my racing heart.
I stumble to the mirror. My reflection looks wrong — pale, hollow, eyes too wide. But when I touch my stomach, I feel it. The faint, rhythmic thrum beneath my palm.
A second heartbeat.
"No," I whisper. "No, no…"
But the wolf in me knows. The bond knows.
I slide down to the floor, tears burning behind my eyes. The room tilts, spinning between panic and realization.
He's alive. I feel it. Distant, battered, but alive.
And if the child growing inside me carries even a fragment of his scent… the Neutral Court will never let it live.
I curl my arms protectively around myself. "Hold on," I whisper to the mark, to the heartbeat, to him. "Hold on, Leonardo. Find me."
Leonardo's Pov
The ride to the border takes two nights and no sleep.
Every mile closer, the mark burns hotter, as if the bond itself is trying to guide me. The scouts say she's deep within Neutral territory — impossible to reach without crossing through sanctioned zones.
But I've already crossed worse for her.
Each pulse of the mark now carries something else — faint, fragile. A second rhythm beneath hers.
At first, I thought it was an echo.Now, I know better.
The wolf inside me goes still. Reverent. Terrified.
"She's carrying my blood," I whisper.
The realization is a blade to the chest and a prayer all at once. I grip the reins tighter. "Then gods help whoever stands between us."
The storm breaks at dawn, washing the battlefield's ash from my armor. Ahead, the white walls of the Neutral Palace glimmer like a mirage.
But all I can think of is her — trapped inside, surrounded by wolves who wear crowns.
And somewhere within her heartbeat… mine.
First person POV
By the third night, I stop pretending to sleep.
Every shadow in the room looks like him. Every thunderclap sounds like his voice.
The guards whisper outside — something about a foreign king breaking through the western checkpoints, his army defying treaties, his rage cutting through entire battalions.
I know who it is before they even say his name.
The Alpha King of the Warborn Dominion.Leonardo Ivankov.
My bonded.My doom.My salvation.
I press a trembling hand against the window glass, watching lightning flash across the horizon. "You shouldn't come," I whisper. "Not for me."
But deep down, I know he's already here.And this time, neither crowns nor bloodlines will stop him.