His Mate, His Prey

The Claiming Chase [Pt. II]

A FEW MOMENTS EARLIER...

[Lucien]

Being surrounded by this many degenerates wasn't how I'd planned to spend my evening. But duty rarely cared for comfort.

This was my first time attending one of these grotesque exhibitions, and only because I was close. Close to ending the hunt. The trail had gone cold more times than I could count, but now? The ring on my finger pulsed with heat, and the dream I had last night had also hinted—she was here. Somewhere among the trembling cattle, not amongst the men.

The last one. The last of that bloodline.

And once I disposed of her, I could finally return home. How many years had it even been?

My jaw clenched as the stench of pheromones and sweat stung my nostrils. With so many men around, it almost felt as though I was attending some sort of sausage fest. Regardless of how much I'd grown used to living among hypocritical humans—as most wolves had, nothing truly prepared you for the savagery of your own kind. Especially not this—the ‘Claiming Chase.’ A celebration of power, lust, and cowardice.

I resisted the urge to retch.

They'd invited me to this event multiple times over the years. I'd always declined. But tonight, the ring led me here.

"Disgusting," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose beneath the edge of the black mask I wore.

"You mean the drinks?" A bloated man laughed behind me, slapping a hand on my shoulder. His breath reeked of alcohol and stale meat. “They’re not as strong as I’d hoped. Haha!” He snorted.

I stared at the hand.

"Hands off!" I warned, shrugging it off.

He blinked at me like a stunned pig. "Hey! Do you know who I—"

I didn't stay to hear it. I slipped past the bodies ahead, ignoring his slurred curses. 'Let him bark.' The type that barked rarely bit and I didn't need to care whose toes I stepped on today because they'd never see me again. Good riddance.

But every second spent here made my skin crawl. Their laughter. Their anticipation. Their complete lack of shame.

I wasn't one of them.

I'd never be.

'Tonight is the last time, so bear with it,' I reminded myself. Once I ended her, this nightmare would be over.

I wouldn't let her beg. Wouldn't let her speak. I would give her a clean death—a swift one. It was more than she deserved, considering the blood that stained her lineage.

'It's not my fault your bloodline condemned you,' I thought.

But those words brought up an old memory. Someone had once said the same thing to me.

Back then, I hadn't understood. Now I did.

"May I have your attention!" The announcer called out and went on with the rules while I scanned the stage for the woman in question. Surely, I would be able to tell when I saw her—

And I did.

Small. Blonde. Barely a presence among the rest of the half-broken women.

But her eyes—gods, those eyes.

Lavender. Clear. Unafraid.

But that wasn't what stopped me.

No, it was the way those eyes struck something in my memory—a shape, a voice, a ghost from the past that I hadn't dared let myself recall for years. A mistake.

'How distasteful.' My lips flattened into a line. I should've been prepared. I should've expected something like this since they were of the same bloodline.

But I hadn't.

And to think that my prey would also be my mate. What an irony and what a truly unlucky woman.

My lips curled in disdain. The Goddess had a cruel sense of humour.

Our eyes locked, and something passed between us. The longer I looked at her, the more determined I became to end her life.

She looked puzzled for a second—then came the fire. Not fear. Not pleading. But something close to hatred.

Good.

I welcomed it.

If I were to describe her gaze, it was the kind of look that promised: I may bleed, but I bite too.

And then, she ran.

"Damn it," I growled, my fists already clenched. I hadn't even made a deal for her yet.

I shoved my way toward the announcer as wolves barreled past, eager to claim and let loose with whatever sorry woman they managed to lay hands on. But I didn't care for them—I wasn't some kind of hero and was in no position to stop such a sport. I only cared about my prey.

Because she was mine to kill. And I would do her the favour before they could defile her.

"The blonde one with odd lavender eyes."

The announcer's eyes sparkled. "Ahh, the feisty one? I'm afraid someone already booked her for after the game. But if you're interested, I can—"

"No. I'm buying her." I quickly said. "She won't be participating."

He blinked. "Well, uh... She's already gone into the forest, Mr. Vargsward. It might be too late."

I narrowed my eyes. "You know who I am?"

"Haha! Of course! I know everyone who receives an invitation."

Of course, he did.

I didn't have time for his blabbering, hence I turned toward the woods.

"Wait! It'll cost extra if you—"

BANG!

A gunshot echoed through the night air and both our heads whipped toward the sound.

"Humans!" someone shouted.

The announcer cursed under his breath.

Perfect.

I didn't wait for his permission. I shot forward into the trees.

I didn't care who else was hunting. She was mine.

And I would be the one to end her. Then I could finally wake up from this nightmare.

The sound of guns continued to go off while I followed the scent of my prey. By the time I managed a glimpse of her, she was struggling against the grip of a werewolf who'd already shifted. Though she’d taken a few hits herself, she’d still left him bloodied with some kind of sharp object.

'For someone so small, she sure packs a punch.'

From the scent of the man, I could tell that he was the same drunkard who'd approached me earlier and despite her situation—the woman never once screamed. Maybe because she knew how futile it would be to.

I charged forward, grabbing the wolfman by the neck and yanking him off of her.

"Arghh! Bastard! What do you think you're doing?!" The drunkard yelled, attempting to get up almost immediately but stumbled. In that moment of distraction, the woman fled once again.

"Tsk." I hissed, shooting forward before he could fully rise. My eyes burned blood-red as I seized his hair, tackled him and slammed his skull against the tree with bone-cracking force—dropping him like a sack of meat. "Annoying bastard. Just go to sleep," I ran my clean fingers through my scalp, pushing loose strands of hair back as I turned to where the woman had fled.

There was no time to waste and there was no safe haven to run to. She should have known that.

My back arched forward, muscles tensing painfully as my bones began to shift underneath my skin. I dropped to all fours mid-motion, fur tearing through flesh, the ground already a blur beneath me before the transformation finished.

I didn't think, no. I simply moved.

Branches whipped past, the scent of her—sweet and defiant—guiding me like a trail of light through the dark.

She was fast. Running like her soul depended on it.

But not fast enough.

She didn't see the glint of the gun. Didn't notice the sniper hidden in the trees, fingers tightening around the trigger.

And I—

I should have stopped.

I should've slowed down, and let it happen. One clean shot and this would all be over. Mission complete. Bloodline erased.

I'd be free.

But the bond—That damned mate bond—It clawed through logic and instincts took over.

Before I could even process what I was doing, I lunged.

Not at the shooter.

At her.

I crashed into her from behind, knocking her off course just as the bullet tore through the air.

Then—Impact.

A blinding, brutal crack to the side of my skull. And everything went dark.

Why the hell had I moved?