Claiming The Last Lycan

FINDING OUT THE TRUTH

22 YEARS LATER

The sky gleamed in unison as it shone down on a young, beautiful lady, clad in a resplendent, ivory-hued princess gown, seated gracefully before a desk.

She held an old, grey book tightly in her hands, her gaze locked onto its pages. Whatever she was reading caused her delicately curved jaw to tighten and clench.

Her grey eyes shifted to a glowing crimson, and the atmosphere around her grew heavy, dense, and suffocating, as if reflecting the storm brewing within her.

“No, no. This can't be true. It can't be," she whispered, balls of tears running down her plump cheeks, making her look sullen. "No!" She wailed, breaking into a cold sweat and pulling on her hair so roughly, as if she wanted to tear it out of her scalp.

She had known all along that she was different from them, but she hadn’t expected to be this different.

“I'm a Lycan? A f*****g Lycan?" she whispered, but it sounded more like a confirmation than a question.

"No!" She slammed her hand on the desk and jerked up, glaring into the empty air.

To think she had been living among the very beings who had murdered her parents and destroyed her entire tribe. To think she had accepted them as her own people, even begun to love them.

“Ah!" she roared, the sound raw with anguish, as she flung the book across the room. Her fury spilled over, and she began scattering the contents of the desk, sending books of all kinds tumbling to the ground in a chaotic mess.

“Liars! Liars! All of them!“ she sobbed, her eyes darkening as the pain she had tried so hard to bear came crashing down on her like rain.

As her tears fell to the floor, she slumped onto it and bent her head between her knees. She was undeniably hurt.

Her heart stung.

The people who had provided her with safety and a roof over her head were the same people who slaughtered her people.

The thought brought more sobs erupting from her throat. Her wrists throbbed, her head pounded, and her breathing became erratic. Her hair stood on end, and she looked more like a ghost of herself, her face turning pale as all the blood drained from it.

Several minutes passed before she slowly raised her head and stared at the book, which lay far away from her after she had thrown it. Sighing sorrowfully, she crawled over to it, picked it up, and as if she had memorized every page of the book, she swiftly opened to a page– the same page that had left her feeling this way.

“To seek safety, we had slain the Lycans. We can't go into specifics about what drove us to kill them, but all we can say is that we had no choice. We're not sorry though, and certainly don't regret what we did. We'd even do it again in a heartbeat if we had to.” Her voice trembled as she read, aware it was hurting her more, but unable to stop.

“Knowing how strong they could be and how sharp they were at perceiving scents better than us, we attacked them at the break of dawn when they were barely awake, killed every one of them, and burned down their homes.”

Her grip on the book tightened as a cold shiver ran down her spine. How could they be so ruthless? So heartless? She felt an urgent urge to drop the book, to shove it into the trash, as it stirred emotions she had no desire to feel. Yet, defying her instincts, her solemn gaze drifted back to its pages.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she hiccupped. “Their loud cries filled the air as we shot them with silver bullets, and those we couldn't shoot, we injected with silver directly into their bloodstream. It was a glorious kill, one that took with it a few of us, but it was worth it.“ The book slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor as veins throbbed in her neck and forehead.

"They couldn’t...could they? This has to be fiction. No, it's not real! It can't be. It mustn't be!" She sobbed and smashed a flower vase against the wall. Even as she did, she was drawn back to the book, now soaked, and she picked it up again.

Opening another page, she found more details about the Lycans' abilities that she hadn’t noticed before. While reading, all she saw in those words was herself.

As it became more intense than she could bear, she abruptly tossed the book aside, stood up, and stormed out, her steps hurried and her face darkened.

As she strode through the long hallways, people of all ages and ranks greeted her with waves, smiles, and respectful bows, but she didn’t even look at them, let alone respond to their greetings.

Confused, the people couldn't help but exchange glances with each other.

Princess Avena was usually happy and cheerful, always eager to wave and return their greetings with warmth. Now, however, her demeanor was cold and distant; she didn’t even bother to respond to their greetings or wave back at them.

What could have happened to their princess to leave her in such a foul mood?

Avena walked for about five minutes before finally arriving in front of a sturdy wooden door adorned with intricate carvings of wolf motifs. A imposing figure, clad in leather armor, stood guard - broad shoulders squared, piercing eyes scanning the surroundings, and a stern expression etched on his rugged face.

This was the Alpha's personal guard, a man known throughout BasRoq Pack for his icy demeanor and perpetually unsmiling face. Yet, as soon as he spotted Avena, he immediately bowed and a faint smile crept onto his otherwise emotionless face.

"Princess—"

He made to say but his words were abruptly cut off as Avena brushed past him without so much as a glance.

She kicked the wooden door open with such force it slammed against the wall, causing the guard to flinch. Without hesitation, she stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind her, the resounding echo drowning out the series of startled bangs and shouts of the guard. Turning, her icy gaze swept across the room, landing on a tall, light-skinned man with fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes. He stood frozen, alarm clear in his expression, his body tense and ready to defend himself.

But the moment he recognized her, his guarded stance softened ever so slightly.

"You startled me, Avena," he said in a deep, steady voice, though a frown lingered on his face. "Why didn’t you knock first?"

Avena didn’t reply. Her eyes burned with fury as she darted toward him, each step dripping with unspoken rage.

"Hmm?" He studied her with furrowed brows, but when his sharp eyes caught the tears glistening in hers, his chest tightened and his heart skipped a beat.

There was only one reason Avena would be in such a state—if she had uncovered the truth about herself. "But that's impossible," he thought, a flicker of panic flashing through his mind. "I hid that book myself."

He forced his voice to remain calm, though his pulse raced. "What’s wrong, Avena? Why are you like this? What happened?"

Avena sniffled, trying to steady herself, but when she opened her mouth to speak, only broken sobs spilled out. The weight of everything she had read crashed over her, her thoughts a torrent of anger and grief.

Several agonizing minutes passed before she managed to force the words out, her voice trembling with betrayal. "Y-Your people killed my people, Alvar."

Instantly, the color drained from Alvar's face, leaving him pale and frozen in place.

For several minutes, an uneasy silence hung heavy in the room. Avena stood motionless, consumed by the storm of emotions raging within her.

Her gaze rested on the man she once believed she knew—the man she had called her brother and best friend. But now, every glance at him felt like a dagger to her heart.

Across from her, Alvar stood frozen, his mind racing in frantic circles as he tried to piece together how Avena had managed to get her hands on that godforsaken book.

For as long as he could remember, that book, due to its content, had been securely kept in his private library, a secluded room hidden within his inner chambers.

No one, aside from the pack maids and cleaners, was ever granted access to that space. And even then, the maids and cleaners were nothing more than lowly servants, too terrified to dare touch any of his possessions. So how could Avena have possibly gotten ahold of it?

She had never been in his library! In fact, she had no idea such a room existed in his chambers.

Suddenly, his deep blue eyes widened, and he unconsciously stepped back.

How could he have forgotten?

There was one other person who had access to his private library—Embry Von!

She had stumbled upon the room by accident one day. But then, Embry wasn’t one to read books; that much he knew, so he hadn’t been concerned about her meddling with his collection.

"s**t!" he cursed under his breath, the word slipping out before he could stop it. How could he have been so careless?

How could he have overlooked the possibility that Embry, being their mutual best friend, might take it upon herself to sneak books out of his library for Avena, knowing her love for reading?

“It... it’s true, isn’t it?” Avena’s voice broke the tense silence, though it wasn’t really a question, but more like a confirmation.

The look in Alvar’s eyes gave her all the answers she needed. Her heart shattered all over again, and an overwhelming wave of pain crashed through her.

Her head throbbed, her chest ached, and every part of her felt heavy with betrayal. She had never felt so hurt in her life.

Alvar slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers, but the moment his eyes locked on her, a sharp, searing pain tore through his chest.

Avena looked utterly pitiful—broken in a way he couldn’t bear to see.

No, this can’t be happening.

He couldn’t accept it.

Deny it. Yes, deny everything, his mind screamed. If he pretended not to know what she was talking about, perhaps he could salvage the situation.

His lips parted, and the words tumbled out in a shaky whisper. “Av... Avena? Wh... What are you saying?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but the tremor betrayed him, and he stuttered more than he intended.

Avena’s eyes darkened. Was he really trying to feign ignorance?

“Your. People. Killed. My. People!” she spat venomously, her voice trembling with fury and pain. Each word was deliberate, punctuated through gritted teeth.

Instantly, the air in the room grew heavier, almost suffocating. Beads of sweat began to trickle down Alvar’s forehead as the temperature seemed to rise unbearably.

His once bright blue eyes darkened to a stormy shade, and his throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

He tried to swallow, to muster a response—anything—but the words caught in his throat, refusing to come out.

"f**k," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. If only he had destroyed that f*****g book when he had the chance, he cursed inwardly, the regret gnawing at him like a relentless storm.

But it was too late now.

She knew.

She knew everything.

And there was no undoing it. Neither was there any point in denying it any further.

Sighing deeply, Alvar staggered backward, his legs feeling like lead, and slumped onto the bed. Never in his life had he felt so defeated—so tired and utterly exasperated.

For several minutes, silence hung heavy in the room, broken only by the sound of his labored breathing.

By the time he finally lifted his head, his once-steely gaze was replaced with one that seemed fragile, his eyes red and glassy, as though on the verge of tears.

Him—the Almighty Alpha of BasRoq Pack—on the verge of tears?

The thought stung his pride, but the weight of the truth bore down on him.

“Yes,” he finally said, his voice a barely audible whisper. “Yes, Avena. My people killed your people. Every single one of them. You... you’re the only survivor. B-"

THUD!

Before he could utter another word, Avena collapsed onto the floor in a heap.