The Lycan King's Fated Mate

Chapter 7 - Unfortunate Soul

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Author’s POV

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As the plane lands in the city of Edemia, Dame unbuckles Clio from her seat, his heart heavy with sorrow for her. The hotel arranged a vehicle for them in light of the tragedy that had befallen her brother.

The man awaiting them, a representative from the hotel, greets them warmly and introduces himself before opening the car door with a sympathetic expression. “Mr. Thornton and Miss. Lockwood, I presume?” the man says, his tone gentle as he gestures towards the waiting vehicle and Dame nods in response, his eyes reflecting the exhaustion and grief he shares with Clio.

Clio, however, remains silent. Her body slumped in the chair as if drained of all life, while her swollen eyes betray the sleepless night she endured, haunted by the painful memories of her loss.

She hasn’t spoken a word since rejecting the offer to stay at the hotel, citing that she wants to bring her brother’s remains home immediately. Despite Dame’s attempts to coax her into eating or finding comfort in rest, Clio refuses to nourish herself or seek respite from her grief.

The dinner she attempted at the resort before falling ill remains her last meal, and the sleepless night on the plane has only deepened her exhaustion. Dame pulls her into an embrace as the car’s engine turns on, his heart bleeding as he watches the pain feast on her soul, utterly helpless.

He watches the world outside the window blur by in a disorienting haze and eventually, they arrive at the morgue. Two men, who introduce themselves as detectives, immediately meet them as they are let out of the car.

They are offered a seat, and the men discuss Lio’s case. They mention witnesses who saw Lio’s death and gave the same statements of wolves emerging from the forest, and Dame nods.

The two officers then explain that, despite the case seeming clear-cut, by their law, an invitation must still be conducted. Dame nods again at their words, but on Clio, however, their words are lost.

Her mind drifts away from the conversation, and she listens with a numb detachment, her thoughts consumed by the gaping void and the knowledge that nothing will come of all these procedures, just like nothing came when her mother died.

Lio wasn’t killed by any ordinary wolves. She saw what killed him. It was the monsters—the same monsters that killed her mother and nobody believed her. Now she just wants to take Lio home, put him to rest next to their mother, and await her turn because she knows they will come for her too.

The detective’s questions pierce through her reverie, but she responds mechanically, her answers devoid of emotion as memories of Lio flood her mind, his laughter echoing in her ears and his smile etched in her mind’s eye. She cannot muster the strength to play their game.

Lio had no enemies. He was the gentlest of souls, a beacon of kindness in a world consumed by darkness. But his goodness could not protect him, and now she is left to pick up the shattered pieces of her broken heart.

Her gaze drifts to the window, the world outside a blur of colors and shapes, and she wishes they can just finish already, so she can go see her brother. The tears threaten to spill over, but she holds them back; she will not allow herself to break down, not here, not now.

The detective eventually finishes with his procedure and Clio’s mind finally snaps back to the present as she gets ready to go inside and see her brother. But just as they prepare to leave, Detective Lawson clears his throat, a solemn hesitation in his eyes as he asks them to wait.

“There’s one more thing,” he says and Clio, who was looking away, meets his gaze. The detective adds that Lio’s head was not found, and the words strike Clio with the force of a physical blow, shattering the fragile facade of composure she had struggled to maintain.

A scream erupts from her throat, primal and raw, tearing through the silence of the room, and despite telling herself she wouldn’t fall apart just minutes ago, she crumbles.

Dame gathers her into his arms, holding her close as he too struggles not to break under the news. The detectives attempt to offer reassurance, saying they are doing all they can to recover the head. But their assurances fall on deaf ears as Clio’s anguish pours forth, unyielding.

Water is brought to her, and it takes time—an eternity of agonizing moments—but eventually, the storm subsides. Clio’s sobs diminish to hiccups, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her grief, and with great effort, she gathers herself. Dame helps her to her feet, his touch gentle yet firm as he guides her towards the door leading to Lio’s resting place.

Their steps are slow, weighed down by the burden of sorrow, but they eventually reach the room. Clio whispers that she would like to be alone, and Dame nods, letting her go and staying behind with a heavy heart.

Clio proceeds inside, her legs trembling beneath her, barely able to support the weight of her anguish. With tears clouding her vision, she reaches the table where Lio rests, covered from the neck up to shield Clio from the horror of his missing head.

She presses her hands to her mouth, stifling the anguished cries that threaten to escape, but sobs wrack her body, and she leans against the cold steel, her fingers curling around the edges in a desperate grasp for stability.

“Lio,” she whispers, her voice a broken plea in the silent room. “I’m scared.” The words tremble on her lips. “I’m so scared,” she repeats, her tears falling freely now. “What am I going to do now? I can’t live without you. I don’t know how to exist in a world where you’re not beside me.”

Her body continues to tremble, her voice faltering from the weight of her sorrow, and her tears fall onto his still shoulder. “Why did you leave me, brother? I need you. I can’t face this world alone,” she whispers, her words a desperate plea to the heavens. Her body caves under the weight of her despair, sinking to her knees beside the table as gut-wrenching cries echo through the icy walls.

She reaches out, her fingers trembling as they brush against Lio’s stiff arm, and she repeats, “I don’t want to be here without you. I can’t bear the thought of facing this world alone.” The sound of her cries is haunting as she clings to him, seeking comfort in the cold embrace of his lifeless form, her heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

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Athena

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My heart pounds in my chest as I stride into the palace, a wild rhythm that matches the urgency of my thoughts. The events of the past hours replay in my mind like a relentless nightmare, and I can’t shake the feeling of dread that clings to me like a shadow even though it’s finally done. It’s over.

Demanding to know where my father is, I’m informed that he’s in a meeting, and I’m glad Anastasia says she will not wait for him. She doesn’t fare well at the side of blood. We share a hug, and she heads to her room. I lied to my sister and told her that my mate’s death was an accident. I made sure she didn’t hear me when I instructed Damien to kill him and told her that I had ask Damien to bring him to me alive, so I could reject him, but he fought and ended up dying by accident.

My sister’s heart is not as strong, so I sometimes hide things from her. With a determined stride, I make my way to the throne room, my steps echoing against the marble floors and I can’t even bring myself to sit, my agitation driving me to pace back and forth like a caged animal as I wait for my father.

We are returning from Edamia. We left the moment Damien brought me what I had requested. I couldn’t believe it when he returned with it. After I gave Damien the instructions, he went after the guy. Anastacia and I stayed inside the room because I didn’t want to act weird in front of people. I was told nothing was more painful than the death of a mate, so I sat in my bed and awaited the gut-wrenching pain, but it never came.

Instead, I got a knock from Damien, and he told me he had done it. He couldn’t bring the head inside because there were many wolves around; they would have smelled the fresh blood, so they left it in the trunk of the hotel manager’s car.

I went out and looked at it, and it was him. He reeked of ice, and they said they found him looking like he was making his way back to the hotel. He also had a weak scent like a human, not the strong scent I caught earlier, which I found weird. So I brought this head back to my father, so I can show him and ask him if it’s normal for the scent to become weak even though he was my mate.

I also want to ask him about the severance of the bond. Why didn’t I feel it? Time seems to stretch on endlessly before finally, after what feels like an eternity, my father enters the room, his expression initially brightening at the sight of me before faltering at the unmistakable scent of blood that clings to me.

“You’re back,” he says, his voice tinged with concern as he approaches me and I nod, my throat tight with emotion, as I step forward to embrace him. As we pull apart, his gaze falls upon the bag I carry, his brow furrowing in confusion, and before he can ask, I hand it over to him. He opens it and I watch as the sight within causes his frown to deepen, and he turns to me, his eyes searching for an explanation.

“It’s him,” I say simply, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my mate. “It’s over, Father,” I continue, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me. “Now it’s up to Valerio to uphold his end of the deal and reject his.” I continue and he mutters that I killed him. He never asked me to, but I wanted to make sure. I couldn’t risk making the connection. The perfume only controlled the scent, not my emotions. I would have had to look him in the eye and reject him, and I didn’t know if I could do that. I feared the mate bond, and this way was safer.

I explain, but my father places his hand on my shoulder, saying I did well before asking what I want to do with the head. I don’t want to do anything with it besides the questions I want to ask him. I tell him that and he asks what questions. I ask if he can smell his wolf or if he smells like a human, and he says like a human. I open my mouth to ask if he shouldn’t smell like a wolf but he speaks first, saying it's because he’s dead, and relief floods me.

My father places the bag down and pours me a glass of whiskey, telling me to sit down. I tell him I was worried. He asks me why, asking if I’m not sure that it’s him, but I tell him I am sure. I just got confused by the scent and the severing of the bond. I add I didn’t feel it when he died.

My father explains to me that because we take back our human form when we are dead, our scents also weaken, which is why he smells like a human. He also says that I didn’t feel the pain when the bond severed because we had not looked into each other’s eyes yet. So we hadn’t made the connection. Another sense of relief floods me, and we clink our glasses as he congratulates me.

“He had a twin, a sister,” I say to him as I tell him what Olson, the hotel manager, told me. The owner of the hotel is not just a wolf, but he's also a family friend, so all I had to do was tell him what happened, and he took care of everything to ensure that nothing would link back to me and that the incident would be recorded as a freak wolf incident.

Out of curiosity, I also requested some background information on the poor unfortunate soul, and he got back to me with that information just before we landed. I learned that my mate had a twin sister, and their mother, who raised them alone, passed away five years ago. I also learned that they had no other family, which made me a little sad for his sister, but they can thank the Gods for that. They are the ones who put him in my way.

“I wonder which family he belonged to,” I say to my dad, and he says he wonders too. For him to be mated to me, he had to have royal blood in him. Royals don’t get mated to commoners. But I suppose I will never know, and maybe it’s better that way. I’m tired, so I ask my father if he can take care of the head for me, to which he says he will. I bid him a good day, telling him I’m going to lie down before flying to Lycaon to see the love of my life.

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Eli

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As soon as the plane’s door opens, I bolt out, barely registering the calls of the attendants behind me. My only focus is getting to the train station as quickly as possible. I don’t care about my luggage; I’ll come back for it later. Right now, all I have with me is my wallet and phone, and I can’t afford to waste time waiting for baggage claims.

The streets are deserted at this late hour of 1:40 am and the darkness has enveloped everything in an eerie silence. But that’s a blessing to me because then I can tap into my wolf speed without the worry of someone seeing me, and the Gods know I need to.

Orpheus propels me forward, the cool night air whipping against my face as we blur through the city streets. I weave between buildings and cut through narrow passageways, my heart beating in tandem with my footsteps, and the glow of neon signs and lit streetlamps flickering past like fleeting memories.

Soon, the train station emerges before me, and I revert to my human speed as I approach a guard stationed at the entrance. I ask him for the platform I’m looking for and where I can purchase a ticket, but the guard's next words knock the air out of my lungs. He says the last train heading my direction is already out and there won’t be another until 9 a.m. That’s too late.

I don’t have that long. I’ve got to get to the hospital now. Malia informed me my father was rushed to the OR hours ago, but I haven't mustered the courage to find out what happened. I still can’t feel his wolf, and I’m terrified that I’ll feel the link server any moment now.

Orpheus says we have to cut through the jungle on foot, but I don’t know if he can make a run that long. He says he can, but he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I ask the guard for a map of the routes, and he points me in the right direction. I head there, calculate the distance, and dash toward the forest when Orpheus insists he can make it, not having any other choice.

Taking off my clothes, I stash them near a stream, I will come back for them. As Orpheus takes over and weaves in between the trees, the world blurs into a rush of motion, every heartbeat pounding in my ears like a war drum. With each stride, he pushes himself harder, leaping over fallen logs and bounding across rocky streams.

The forest flies past us in the chaotic backdrop of the turmoil raging within us. The events of the past few hours replay in our mind like a nightmare we can’t escape.

The sight of my brother’s lifeless body, his head cruelly torn from his shoulders, haunts us with relentless intensity and our heart clench with agony as I feel tears welling up in Orpheus’s eye, mingling with the rain that starts to lash against his fur.

I pray desperately to the Gods, begging for mercy—for a miracle that will spare my father from the same fate. I can’t bear the thought of losing him too, of being left alone in a world that seems intent on tearing my family apart.

A howl spills from Orpheus's lungs, cutting through the sky like a thunderous blade in a desperate plea born of raw anguish and fear. However, despite the pain and tears, we continue forward with a single-minded focus on getting to the hospital.

Every muscle in Orpheus’s body aches with exertion, and the branches that whip at his fur leave stinging welts in their wake. But he ignores the pain, and soon we reach the city and head for our farm.

I become even more emotional at the sight of our house, and after looking around and seeing that the coast is clear, I dash behind the bushes out back and enter through the back door.

I dash to my room and put on some clothes, and then I grab my bike keys, not even worrying about the helmet.

Before I know it, I’m at the hospital, jumping off the bike and sprinting toward the entrance. But just as I reach for the door, it hits me—a gut-wrenching pain of a thousand blades cuts through my stomach and I collapse on my knees, spilling the contents of my stomach as Orpheus's link to Atticus, my father's wolf servers. We're too late.

“No! Please no! Dad!"