Claimed by the Lycan Triplets

Soup

Chapter 3

Annalise

The gates of Thavlion Academy were massive and intimidating, all wrought iron and carved with symbols that glinted in the sunlight—wolves, vampires, sirens, and creatures I couldn’t even name. This was the place where power ruled, where species and status decided who you were. For me, though, it was the only place I felt like me.

Walking in today was different. Usually, it was a relief, leaving the nightmare at home behind. But with Willow next to me, trailing her sickly sweet perfume and her fake curiosity, it felt like I’d dragged my misery right through the gates with me.

The first thing we saw was the announcement board, right in front of the main courtyard. It always had something big on it, but today, the bold gold letters practically screamed at me:

“Annual Christmas Celebration & Shifting Ceremony!”

I swallowed hard. The Christmas party wasn’t just another school event. It was the night. The night when all of us who hadn’t shifted yet would finally find our wolves, our powers—our true selves. For weeks, I’d been holding my breath, hoping, praying that this would be my moment.

And then, right below that, another announcement caught my eye:

“Annual Thavlion Competition: Enter at your own risk. Victory grants one wish. Disclaimer: The Academy is not liable for any injuries or deaths.”

My heart thudded. The competition. The one thing I’d been preparing for since I got here. A win meant a wish—any wish. I could bring my mother back. Or break Petunia’s curse.

But the stakes were sky-high, and everyone knew it. Last year, two students didn’t make it out alive. Still, I’d risk anything for that chance.

“Wow,” Willow said, her voice dripping with fake awe. “This place is... huge.”

I gritted my teeth. “It’s not that big once you know your way around.”

I led her through the courtyard, pointing out the library with its shiny glass dome and the sprawling training grounds where students were sparring with glowing weapons and powers sparking around them. Everywhere I looked, there was something happening—someone running, laughing, or practicing.

“Over there’s the library,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “You’re gonna need it.”

Willow smirked. Of course she did.

I tried to focus on the familiar sights, the places I knew like the back of my hand—the banners hanging on every corner, the ivy creeping up the stone walls of the main building. But it didn’t work. Her presence ruined it. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

And then I heard her say it.

“Who’s that?” Willow asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and something else—interest.

I followed her gaze, and there he was.

Lucien.

He was standing by the fountain, laughing with his friends, looking like he belonged in a freaking movie—red hair, sharp jawline, and that easy confidence that made you feel like he didn’t just own the place; he was the place.

For a second, I froze. The memories hit me like a freight train—how he’d smiled at me during training, the time he’d helped me up when I fell, how I’d thought he’d be my first dance at the Christmas party. My first kiss. My first... everything.

But then Willow spoke again.

“He’s cute,” she said, practically licking her lips.

I spun around so fast it made her blink. “Don’t.” My voice came out harsher than I expected.

“What?” She blinked, all fake innocence. “I didn’t do anything.”

Yet.

I didn’t trust her for a second. Not with Lucien. Not with anything. Turning on my heel, I walked toward the main building without waiting for her to follow.

She wasn’t ruining this for me. Not him. Not here.

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By the end of the week, it was like the universe had decided to twist the knife in my chest. Willow and Lucien weren’t just talking; they were inseparable. Everywhere I turned, they were there—laughing in the courtyard, eating together in the dining hall, or leaning close over a textbook in the library.

I’d expected it. Deep down, I knew it would happen. She couldn’t help herself. Just like her mother had stolen my father’s heart, Willow had found a way to steal Lucien.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

Every time I saw them, it felt like a part of me was being ripped away. It wasn’t just that she had him. It was the way she did it—the way she lit up when he laughed at her jokes, the way she’d toss her hair and lean in, like she was showing off her latest prize.

I tried to convince myself it wasn’t real. That it was a spell. A trick. That Willow was more than just a wolf—that she was her mother’s daughter in every way, and that meant she had a witch’s blood too. If I was right, she wouldn’t shift at the Christmas party. She’d be exposed for what she was.

And if that happened, they had be out of Thalvion. Out of the competition. Maybe even out of my father’s life for good.

But until then, I had to endure. I had to train.

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The training grounds were my sanctuary, a wide-open space where I could lose myself in movement and purpose. It wasn’t like the pristine classrooms or the majestic library. Here, it was raw. Real. The dirt beneath my boots, the sting of sweat in my eyes, the weight of my body pushing itself to its limits.

I stood in the center, my opponent circling me. A boy from my combat class, broad-shouldered and smug. He underestimated me. They always did.

He lunged, fast, but I was faster. I ducked under his swing, rolling to the side and vanishing into the shadows of the training field.

This was what I was good at. Disappearing. Becoming the predator no one could see.

I darted from one cover to the next, silent and precise, my eyes locked on him. He spun in circles, trying to find me, his frustration growing with every second. I could hear his heavy breathing, his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“Come on, Annalise!” he shouted, trying to bait me. “Are you hiding, or are you scared?”

I smirked to myself. If he thought taunts would get to me, he didn’t know me at all.

I moved quickly, silently, coming up behind him. He didn’t even see me until I struck—my leg sweeping out to take him down. He hit the ground hard, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp. Before he could recover, I was on top of him, pinning him with a knee to his chest.

“Yield,” I demanded.

He groaned, glaring up at me, but he knew he was beaten. “Fine,” he spat. “I yield.”

I stepped back, brushing the dirt off my hands. Around me, the other students were watching, some whispering, some nodding in approval.

I ignored them, wiping the sweat from my forehead and taking a deep breath. My heart was pounding, but not from the fight. It was from the knowledge that no matter how strong I was, no matter how much I trained, it still wasn’t enough.

Not without my wolf.

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When Willow and I got home that evening, I was ready to collapse. The training, the long day, and the constant presence of her had left me drained. But as soon as we walked through the door, my father came rushing toward us, his expression tense and hurried.

“I have to leave for the palace immediately,” he announced, his tone clipped. “King Wolfric’s health is deteriorating.”

I barely had time to process his words before his sharp gaze landed on me. “Annalise, you’re coming with me.”

My stomach dropped.

The palace. I hated going there. Not because of the King—King Wolfric had always been kind to me, in his own peculiar way. It wasn’t even the soup he demanded every time I visited, a recipe my mother had taught me when I was a child. The King claimed it soothed him, warmed his heart, and he wouldn’t let a month pass without me making it for him.

No, the real reason I dreaded the palace was them.

The triplets.

The future rulers of Lucarius and my sworn enemies.

They called me their “little game,” tormenting me every time I stepped foot in their golden kingdom. For them, it was fun—a cruel, endless game of cat and mouse. For me, it was pure torture.

“Annalise, what are you waiting for?” my father snapped, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, considering the cost of saying no. He’d be upset. Maybe even angry—genuinely angry, not the frustrated kind that came and went like passing storms.

With a resigned sigh, I grabbed my cloak and followed him.

As I reached the door, Petunia’s voice stopped me. “Why not take Willow?” she asked sweetly, the false innocence in her tone making my skin crawl.

I turned just in time to see my father’s face harden, the stern expression he reserved for moments of absolute authority. “No,” he said firmly. “This is not up for discussion, Petunia. Annalise comes with me. Always.”

For once, Petunia didn’t argue. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see the fury simmering beneath her calm exterior. Willow stood behind her, arms crossed, shooting me a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

I couldn’t resist. I turned back toward the door, but not before flashing them both a small, victorious smirk.

Petunia’s jaw tightened, and Willow’s teeth clenched so hard I thought I heard a c***k.

The win was small, but it was mine.