They Insulted Us, He Unleashed His Lycan Power

Chapter 1

The crisp autumn air carried the familiar scent of pine and roasted chestnuts as I walked up the winding stone path to the Silver Moon packhouse. For the first time in months, I wasn’t wearing oversized sweatpants or a nursing top stained with baby spit-up. Instead, I wore a tailored emerald-green dress that hugged my newly recovered curves, my dark hair falling in soft waves over my shoulders.

It was my first time attending a pack social gathering since I’d given birth to my precious little boy, Leo. The past few months had been a whirlwind of late-night feedings, diaper changes, and an overwhelming amount of love. But honestly? I was starting to go a little stir-crazy. I loved my mate, Roman, and I loved our pup more than life itself, but a woman could only spend so many hours staring at the walls of a nursery before she needed some adult conversation.

That was why I’d decided to look for a small, undemanding job. Just something to get me out of the house for a few hours a week. The pack’s historical archives were notoriously disorganized, and I’d always loved ancient texts. It seemed like the perfect fit—a quiet, low-stress environment where I could catalog dusty scrolls and still be home in time for Leo’s afternoon nap.

Roman, of course, had practically thrown a fit when I mentioned it.

“You want to work?” he had grumbled this morning, standing in our kitchen with a pink frilly apron tied over his broad, heavily tattooed chest. He had been expertly flipping a stack of blueberry pancakes while simultaneously balancing a sleeping Leo in one massive arm. “Why? If you’re bored, I’ll buy you a private island. Or a shopping mall. Or we can just stay in bed all day and make another pup.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Roman was… a lot. To the world at large, he was a mystery. When he moved to my territory a year ago, he had immediately masked his scent and hidden his true nature. Most of the Silver Moon pack assumed he was a rogue, a lone wolf who had lost his original pack and had no wealth or status to his name. They saw a quiet, brooding man who wore faded sweatpants and spent all his time doting on his mate.

They had no idea that beneath those comfortable clothes and his domestic, stay-at-home-dad persona, my mate was Roman. The Roman. The Lycan King. The most lethal, terrifying, and powerful ruler our kind had seen in a millennium.

He had suppressed his crushing, suffocating royal aura specifically for my sake. When we first discovered we were mates, my wolf had been delicate, easily overwhelmed by his sheer dominance. And when I got pregnant? He had completely locked away the tyrant king, transforming himself into a fiercely protective, domestic teddy bear so I could have a peaceful, stress-free pregnancy.

Now, I just wanted a simple part-time job as a pack archivist. Roman thought it was beneath me, but he eventually caved to my puppy-dog eyes, pouting as he kissed me goodbye.

“Just don’t tire yourself out, little bird,” he had murmured, kissing the crown of my head. “If anyone gives you a hard time, let me know. I’ll tear out their throat.”

“I’m just going to a tea party and then putting my name in for the library job, Roman. No one is getting their throat torn out,” I had laughed.

I reached the grand oak doors of the packhouse parlor, my heart fluttering with anticipation. I was genuinely excited to see everyone. Especially Ashley. We had been friends since childhood, though we’d drifted apart during my pregnancy. She had recently mated with Carter, one of the pack’s highest-ranking Elite Alphas, and I was eager to congratulate her in person.

I raised my hand to push open the slightly ajar door, but the sound of my own name made me freeze.

“Oh, it’s just tragic, honestly. I feel so bad for Sloane.”

It was Ashley’s voice. It wasn’t the warm, affectionate tone she used to use with me; it was dripping with a sickly sweet, condescending pity that made my stomach churn.

“Did you hear?” Ashley continued, her voice echoing clearly into the hallway. “She’s actually submitting an application to work in the dusty old archives. Can you imagine? Having a newborn pup and being forced to drag yourself to work because your mate is too useless to provide for you?”

A chorus of sympathetic, gossipy murmurs rippled through the room. There were at least a dozen female wolves in there, all high-ranking members of the pack’s inner circle.

“I thought her mate was just… private,” another voice chimed in. It belonged to Jessica, a Beta female. “He’s certainly handsome enough. But he doesn’t have a pack scent, does he? He’s a rogue.”

“Handsome doesn’t put food on the table, Jess,” Ashley scoffed loudly. I could practically hear the clinking of her expensive teacup hitting its saucer. “Carter told me the man doesn’t even have a job. He just sits at home all day in sweatpants. It’s pathetic. Sloane used to have such high standards, and now? She tied herself to a penniless rogue who can’t even afford to let his mate rest after childbirth.”

My hand tightened into a fist, my knuckles turning white.

“It makes me so grateful for Carter,” Ashley sighed, her voice practically vibrating with smug superiority. “He just bought me a brand-new Mercedes for our one-month anniversary. He would never let me humiliate myself by begging for a minimum-wage job indexing old paper. But I suppose Sloane doesn’t have a choice. Someone has to pay for the baby’s diapers.”

“Should we start a collection for her?” someone asked, sounding genuinely pitying.

“I’ve already set aside some of my old maternity clothes to donate to her,” Ashley said graciously, playing the part of the benevolent, wealthy friend to perfection. “It’s the least I can do. When you marry into the true elite of the pack, you have a responsibility to help those at the bottom of the food chain.”

I stood in the hallway, the joyous anticipation I’d felt just moments ago evaporating into thin air.

Bottom of the food chain.

Penniless rogue.

Useless.

For a brief, fleeting second, a wave of shock washed over me. I hadn’t realized how deeply my so-called best friend resented me, or how eagerly she wanted to use my perceived misfortune as a stepping stone to elevate her own status.

But the shock quickly burned away, replaced by a slow, simmering heat. My inner wolf, usually calm and placid, let out a low, dangerous rumble in my mind. She was the mate of the Lycan King, carrying the scent and the mark of the most powerful predator on the continent. She did not take kindly to being pitied by a newly mated Elite who thought a Mercedes was the peak of wealth.

I looked down at the simple, unbranded diamond ring on my left hand. Roman had mined the diamond himself from a private cavern in the frozen north, and it was worth more than the entire Silver Moon packhouse and its surrounding lands combined.

Begging for a minimum-wage job? I thought, a cold, dark amusement bubbling up in my chest.

I took a deep breath, smoothing the invisible wrinkles from my emerald dress. The hurt was entirely gone, replaced by a sharp, glittering anticipation. I placed my hand firmly on the polished brass doorknob.

A slow, mocking smirk curled onto my lips.

Let’s see how much pity you have for me when I’m standing right in front of you, Ashley.