His Mate, His Prey

The Price To Pay

[Violet]

The door shattered and splinters flew like shrapnel as a dozen black-clad enforcers stormed into the room.

My breath caught in my throat when they surrounded us. I'd never known the council to send more than one or two enforcers at once to a pack and yet, they'd sent so many for this one man?

Enforcers were like warriors trained from an early age simply for combat by the council. They all fell within the beta ranks but depending on the situation, alpha enforcers could also be discharged. Fortunately, the dozen present were all betas with one alpha in their ranks, hence the person with a higher rank would serve as their leader.

'Damn, I've met so many alphas and betas in the last day that I suddenly don't feel as special.' I frowned, recalling how I used to be adored as a female beta a while back.

"Lucien Vargsward," the lead trooper announced, voice too calm for the tension in the room, "you are under arrest by order of the High Council."

Lucien didn't even flinch. His expression was unreadable, eyes shifting from face to face like he was trying to recognize a single familiar one in between the hostility.

"By the High Council?" Fenrick stepped forward, his voice sharp and authoritative. "Let me see some verification."

Their leader reached into his coat and produced a medallion. Burnished metal, a wolf's head above a scale —the Council's emblem.

But still—why so fast? How had they gotten here in so little time?

Fenrick didn't move. "You need more than a flimsy accusation and a video to arrest anyone, or has the council's standards—"

He was cut off mid-sentence as Lucien's hand came down gently on his shoulder. "It's fine," he said, and the quiet calm in his voice unnerved me more than anything else had. "I'll go peacefully."

Fenrick's jaw locked. "This is ridiculous."

"Then come with me," Lucien offered softly, and my chest ached at how calm he was pretending to be. Surely, he knew deep down—this was a trap. He just didn't care.

Or maybe... he cared too much. Maybe he didn't want a fight to break out.

An enforcer stepped forward. "Only the perpetrator will be taken for initial questioning. Further testimonies may be submitted after."

That was when I lost it. My gaze hardened knowing that Lucien couldn't speak for himself. Not like this. Not without his memories. If he told them he couldn't remember, they'd twist it into a lie—a convenient loophole. A way to condemn him without further questions.

I stepped forward before I could stop myself, my hand curling tightly around his fingers without a word. It wasn't fair. False accusations were something I couldn't stand.

He looked at me, just briefly, and his hand squeezed mine. A smile played on his lips — light, gentle, protective. "I'll be fine," he murmured, then turned to the officers. "You're paying for my door," he added with mocking indignation as they escorted him out.

The room felt hollow. And Fenrick—Fenrick was seething.

I turned to him, wanting to say something, anything—

But before I could speak, he grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me close. His eyes burned red, his grip lifting me off the floor. "You're with them, aren't you?!"

"What?" I choked, trying to kick free.

"How is it that the moment you show up as the only witness, they come to arrest him?!" His tone was rough. "Who sent you? What's your goal in framing Lucien?"

I stared back at him, disgust growing in my gut and outpacing the earlier fear. I gradually began to dislike him at that moment. Getting physical with me like this was starting to piss me off and I wasn't going to keep being a pushover regardless of our strength difference.

"You don't have to believe me," I said, jaw tight. "But if my goal was to eliminate Lucien, I would have done so while he slept in my arms last night."

That shut him up. He didn't drop me right away, just held me there, studying my face with an expression so unreadable it made my skin crawl. Eventually, his fingers loosened, and I dropped back to the floor. "Get dressed in five, we're leaving."

He said nothing as I stormed upstairs, yanked on a pair of oversized trousers, and followed him out.

***

The silence in the car was expected. I sat in the passenger seat, still irritated and Fenrick kept casting sideways glances at me like he expected me to try something.

"So?" he finally asked, voice low as we waited in the traffic. "Who exactly are you and what pack do you belong to? No lies, I won't hurt you if you're honest."

I looked straight ahead, both arms folded. "Violet Blanchard. I don't have a pack. I was sold as a slave."

He didn't speak for a few seconds. I didn't either.

Then I turned my head to him. "Why are you keeping my secret?" I asked. "You know I'm not his wife, so what's your goal?"

He scoffed. "That's none of your business. I'm asking the questions here."

"I think it is my business."

He fell silent momentarily before asking. “What the hell happened to Lucien? It's like... like he's not all there. Almost like—" He turned to glance at me. "Did he lose his memories?"

I hesitated. One second too long.

"He did, didn’t he?" he concluded. "I need to know what's going on. You're the key witness, Violet. What you say could save him—or bury him." His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "And if your goal is to bury him, I swear—"

I opened my mouth to refute, his loyalty was commendable and I wondered what their relationship was. But before the words could leave my lips, a deafening blast echoed behind us and the whole car jolted forward with brutal force. The seatbelt dug into my ribs as we slammed into the guard rail and went careening off the side of the highway. The world spun, flipped, twisted. Metal shrieked. Glass shattered.

And then—CRASH!

We were upside down. I blinked, dazed, blood trickling down my cheek. My ears rang. My fingers shook as they fumbled with the seatbelt, breath shallow and ragged.

I turned to the side.

"Fenrick?" I croaked, but to my horror, the driver's seat was empty.

He was gone!

How? Had I lost consciousness for a few minutes? Did he leave me here to die?

The seatbelt was choking me. I fumbled with the clasp, my fingers trembling and slick with something wet. Blood, maybe. My arms felt heavy, my lungs shallow. I couldn't tell how long I'd been hanging there, but I knew I had to move. Had to get out before an explosion.

The moment the belt released, I dropped like dead weight, slamming into the roof of the car—now the floor—with a dull grunt.

Trying to stay calm, I dragged myself toward the shattered window, broken glass biting into my palms. It hurt to crawl, but I kept going despite my healing abilities being gone. The world outside was tilted sideways, and nothing made sense. All I could hear was the sound of metal groaning and the distant hum of traffic above.

Then came a loud voice.

Unfamiliar. Deep. Cold.

"Death to all de—urkkk!"

Then the voice fell silent.

Footsteps crunched through the sand and I started to look up, but stopped right in front of me.

I blinked through the haze, struggling to make out the silhouette crouching beside me. If I still had the strength of a werewolf, I wouldn't be in so much pain.

A hand gripped my chin—not rough, but not gentle either—and tilted my face upward.

"Look at me," he said, and I knew that voice. Fenrick.

I could hardly make out the look on his face as blood blurred my vision.

"Get used to this. This chaos. This life where your enemies are bold enough to strike even in broad daylight." His voice dropped. "Welcome to our f****d up world, Violet Blanchard.” He squeezed my cheek slightly, “No, Violet Vargsward. It's just one of the perks that come with being Lucien's bride. So do us both a favour and try not to die. At least not yet."

Now I knew for sure, that pretending to be Lucien's wife might have been the second worst decision I'd ever made.