Rejected By My Mate, Claimed By The Lycan king

CHAPTER 6

ZARIA'S POV

I stared at the heavy oak door as it clicked shut behind Cassian. . The Lycan King’s terrifyingly tempting offer of a revenge alliance, still hung in the air like thick smoke. But right now, my skin felt too tight, my blood pumping like battery acid through my veins.

I needed to breathe.

Closing my eyes, I reached deep into the center of my chest, pushing past the physical ache of my bruised ribs. 'Are you there?' I called out internally. 'Please, be there.'

Usually, she would answer instantly. But as I pushed deeper into my own consciousness, I didn't find warmth. I didn't find a spark.

I hit a wall. A cold, hollow, impenetrable wall of absolute nothingness.

"No," I whispered, my eyes snapping open. "No, no, no."

I clawed at my chest, my fingernails digging into the thin fabric of the medical tunic. I closed my eyes again, desperate, forcing my mind into the dark spaces where my wolf usually slept. 'Wake up!' I screamed into the void.

Nothing.

Panic seized my throat, a feral, choking thing. I shoved the heavy blankets off my legs and swung my feet over the edge of the bed. My hands flew to my wrists, pressing hard against my pulse points. I dragged my wrists to my nose, inhaling deeply, trying to catch the familiar, comforting scent of winter mint and pine that had defined my entire life.

There was nothing. Just the sterile, sharp smell of antiseptic and copper. I smelled like blank paper. I smelled like a corpse.

I squeezed my eyes shut so hard spots danced behind my eyelids. I focused every ounce of my willpower on my bones, begging them to break and reshape, to give me the fur and teeth that would protect me from the monsters who had thrown me away. I scratched at my bare arms, drawing angry red lines down my pale skin, trying to bleed the power out of myself.

"What are you doing to yourself? Stop it!"

The door burst open. Helen rushed into the room, a wooden tray of steaming medical drafts rattling violently in her hands. She slammed the tray onto the bedside table, her eyes widening in horror as she saw me frantically tearing at my own skin.

"Let go of me!" I shrieked, kicking out blindly as she lunged forward and grabbed my wrists.

"Zaria, stop! You're going to tear your stitches open!" Helen’s grip was surprisingly iron-clad for a doctor, pinning my flailing arms down against the mattress. "Look at me! Breath! Stop fighting!"

"I can't breathe!" I sobbed, a violent tremor racking my entire frame. I stopped struggling, my strength evaporating as I stared up at her with wild, pleading eyes. "Why can't I smell myself? Why is it so quiet in my head? Where is my wolf, Helen? Where is she?!"

Helen’s fierce expression instantly shattered. The stern, commanding doctor vanished, replaced by a profound, crushing sorrow that made my stomach drop through the floorboards. She didn't let go of my wrists, but her grip softened, her thumbs brushing against my bruised skin.

"Zaria..." Helen started, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper. "Please, just lie back down."

"Don't give me that look!" I snapped, my voice rising in a sharp, defensive spike.

"You need to calm down first. Your heart rate is dangerously high—"

"I don't care about my heart!" I screamed, the raw agony tearing through my throat. "Look at me! I am the daughter of an Alpha! I am supposed to have a wolf! Why is there nothing but silence inside me? What did they do to me?!"

Helen closed her eyes for a brief, agonizing second. When she opened them, the pity in her gaze was so heavy it felt like a physical blow to my chest.

"The drink," Helen said softly, her lips trembling. "The cup your sister Cynthia gave you during the ceremony. Do you remember what it tasted like?"

"It was bitter," I whispered, my mind racing back to the smirk on Cynthia’s flawless face as she forced the chalice into my hands. “Helen... what was in that cup?"

"A concentrated extract of silver-root blended with a cursed binding venom," Helen delivered the words like a executioner dropping an axe. "It wasn't meant to just make you sick, Zaria."

"Then what?" I demanded, my breath catching in my throat. "What did it do?"

"It permanently burned away your wolf's spirit," Helen said, the brutal truth hanging nakedly between us. "It systematically destroyed your internal channels. The venom stripped away your scent, it completely severed your wolf."

The world stopped spinning. The air in the room turned to ice.

"No," I breathed, shaking my head violently. "No, that's impossible. A wolf can't just vanish. I'm a werewolf! I'm Zaria Grimston!"

"You *were* a werewolf," Helen said, her voice dripping with deep, unyielding sorrow as she finally released my wrists. "The poison was thorough. There is no cure for this, Zaria. I've tried every draft, every spell since Cassian brought you here. The damage is absolute."

I stared at her, my vision blurring with hot, angry tears that refused to fall. "So what am I?"

Helen looked away, unable to hold my gaze any longer. "You're human, Zaria. You are completely human."

The words struck me like a physical blow. I fell back against the pillows, the breath completely knocked out of my lungs.

Human.

In a world ruled by apex predators, where strength was the only currency and the weak were torn to shreds, I was a completely powerless human. Cynthia hadn't just stolen my mate and my home; she had stolen my very identity. She had rendered me defenseless.

The tears in my eyes dried up instantly. The agonizing grief cracked, fractured, and hardened into something entirely new. It solidified into a freezing, lethal, unadulterated hatred.

They thought they had broken me. They thought stripping me of my wolf made me a victim.

I stared at the ceiling, my fingers curling into tight, white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets. My wolf was dead, but I was still breathing. And if I had to become a monster myself to destroy Cynthia and Garrick, then that was exactly what I would do.