FATED TO THE LYCAN BEAST

Five

Marissa

After a restless night, I got up at five in the morning and packed two suitcases with a dark focus.

I had to leave, to disappear from the smothering familiarity of my home and cross into Lycan territory to find out what my mate was hiding, even if it meant walking straight into hell.

Later that morning, my brother Brian stood in my doorway, eyes wide, as if he could not understand that I was choosing to head for the Lycans' den.

Downstairs my father’s voice rose up the stairs, harsh and accusing, like gravel in my ears.

“You’re running to the Lycan realm because you don’t want to marry.”

I came down just as his wife, Lilith, slipped to his side. A small burst of anger twisted in my chest.

Lilith was a snake.

Two weeks after my mother’s funeral she had moved into the house as my father’s lover. The same woman who had whispered blessings and held my mother’s hand while pretending to care as the illness tightened its grip. Until the day I found her in my father’s bed, under the same roof where my mother was dying.

My heart burned with a loathing so deep it tasted like fire, every glance at her twisting my stomach with the certainty that she had poisoned my mother’s life and death.

Lilith smiled sweetly at my father. “You’re right, my dear. Marissa seems to be overly ambitious. She should be married with two pups now.”

My temples throbbed. Between the Seer’s warning and this suffocating circus, I had two options: explode and burn the house down emotionally, or play their twisted game to survive.

I chose the game.

“You’re right,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ve been thinking about finding a husband. A Lycan, actually. Someone… strategic, not just practical.”

Brian laughed. “And pigs will fly.”

I jabbed an elbow into his ribs before my father could suspect foul play.

“Imagine, Dad. A Beta or Gamma Lycan with real power. Someone who could pull this pack out of ruin and maybe keep you off your pedestal.” My gaze slid to Lilith. “Or maybe I win the Queen’s favor. She seemed to find me… acceptable. Not that her opinion matters to me, of course.”

“Finally you use that brain!” he boomed, slapping my back.

Lilith squealed. “Oh, imagine Marissa as the Lycan Queen!”

“Nothing is impossible,” my father roared. “Make us proud. But if this Lycan plan fails, the offer from Alpha Darius still stands.”

I bared my teeth in what passed for a smile. It looked like a mask stretched to its limits.

Upstairs I zipped shut my last suitcase. Make us proud, translation: make him rich and lock me in a life sentence if I fail.

Five days later my farewell with Brian was short. His hand stayed on my shoulder longer than usual, and I could feel his worry like a current in the air, but my lies kept him safe.

“Forget what I said earlier. I’m not leaving for love,” I told him. “I’m leaving for me.” For survival, for leverage, for every scrap of power I could take.

The thirty-seat transport bus felt like a prisoner transfer. The seats were too stiff, and the faint smell of citrus air freshener made me uneasy. Twenty-seven of us, the brightest from the pack, were sent like offerings.

We arrived at an apartment complex on the high coast. Its mirrored surfaces reflected the grey sea and the overcast sky, making it colder than it already was. A severe Lycan woman handed out keys without a word, her eyes flashing like steel under the fluorescent light.

The next morning, all in matching black jackets, we were led into a glass-walled conference room inside the Government Secretariat, a monument to Lycan domination.

Only eight would get a government post, announced a Lycan official. The rest would be “reassigned.” No one dared ask what that meant, but the silence screamed that it wasn’t good.

My stomach twisted. I had to be among the eight.

The door opened.

Justin walked in. The room seemed to bend around him, as if gravity yielded to his will. I gasped for air.

Dressed in black, he carried a power so heavy the room appeared to fold around him. I felt the heat of his presence like a warning flame licking my skin.

One by one he called names and positions.

Then, “Marissa Wolfe. You will work as my personal assistant.”

The air froze. I could hear the subtle gasps from my packmates.

“Excuse me?”

He raised a brow, watching me with that infuriating smirk.

I stood slowly, my chair squeaking.

“Pardon my manners, but you seem to be making a mistake, Prince Justin,” I said, firm though my guts shook. “My qualifications concern your legal advisor, as stated in the Queen’s offer to my Alpha.”

His gaze swept my body, lingering on my shoes, my thighs, my chest, my lips, before returning to my eyes. A public undressing with no tact.

“The Queen makes suggestions,” he said lazily. “I make the assignments.”

The insult cut, aimed at me and my pack.

“If you deem the position beneath your worth,” he continued, “the road back to your pack is open. Or…” his voice darkened, “…you can prove your expertise directly under my supervision.”

Breathe, Marissa.

I drew a long breath and sat back down. Not a demotion, a declaration of war I had to win.

Across the room, his smile said he thought he had won.

When the briefing ended and the others left, Justin stayed seated, his gaze like a leash around my throat.

“My office. Now.”

He rose and walked through a side door without once looking back.