Deviant Kings: Claimed by The Four Lycan Kings

Adeline’s pov~

The old Luna had been determined to repay the debt. After a full year of hiding away under her protection, my body had finally recovered from the physical trauma, even if my wolf remained entirely unchanged—still fractured, quiet, and half-dead inside my chest.

Because of that debt, the Dowager Luna did the unthinkable. She made a massive exception for me alone. She reached out to her grandson, Raven—the royal Lycan Prince of the House of Dravenmoor and the future Lycan King.

She commanded him to take care of me, to use his immense political power to forge my student documents, and to protect me within the academy walls. She told him explicitly that their royal family owed me a blood debt.

Raven didn’t know the exact details of my broken wolf, but he obeyed his grandmother’s orders without question. The old Luna had been my sole support, the only person who believed in my mission to discover what had truly happened to my slaughtered family and to find a way to revive my damaged wolf.

Remembering her words was the only thing keeping the chill out of my bones.

I gave my reflection one last look, adjusting the thick hood of my oversized sweatshirt until the deep shadows hid the brutal purple bruise on my left cheek and the raw split on my lower lip.

I carefully pressed my hand against my chest, feeling the cold, solid weight of the silver pendant resting right over my chest.

I was ready.

Just another day.

Raven thought he was protecting a fragile charity case out of obligation. Zyran thought he had successfully broken a political spy. Keiran was waiting to dissect an anomaly, and Blake was waiting for entertainment.

They had no idea who they were actually dealing with. I didn’t want their throne, and I didn’t want their games. I just wanted my answers.

I had pulled the heavy hood of my oversized black sweatshirt as far forward as possible. I just wanted to hide.

The fabric cast a deep shadow over my face, doing its best to cover the dark purple bruise on my left cheek and the raw, stinging split on my lower lip.

Every single step down the stone stairs of the East Tower hurt. A dull, sickening ache throbbed through my bruised ribs with every breath, but I forced my back straight. I couldn’t limp. I couldn’t show weakness.

I needed to be a ghost today. Completely invisible.

"Adeline! Hey, wait up!"

A soft, breathless voice cut through the damp morning air. I slowed down slightly, turning my head just enough to see Sierra jogging down the path to catch up with me. Her bright hazel eyes were wide, filled with a mix of relief and pure anxiety.

"Thank goodness I found you," Sierra panted, falling into step right beside me. "Are you okay? You look completely buried in that hood."

"I’m fine," I said. I kept my voice flat and deadpan, doing everything I could to mask the slight tremor in my chest. Just speaking made my lip sting all over again, bringing back the terrifying rush of last night. "Just cold."

"Well, you’re about to get a lot colder, because look ahead," Sierra whispered. Her voice dropped into a tense, frightened register as we rounded the corner into the central campus square. "The whole academy is out here. What is going on?"

I looked up slightly from beneath the rim of my hood, and my breath caught painfully in my throat.

The main path leading toward the academic halls was completely blocked. Hundreds of elite students—arrogant Alphas and highborn nobility from every territory—were crowded in a massive, suffocating circle in the centre of the courtyard. It wasn’t the usual morning chatter. The air was thick with a low, intense hum of pure shock, fierce whispers, and territorial tension.

"Did they really catch them on the perimeter?" a highborn wolf nearby muttered, his nostrils flaring as he tried to catch a scent in the air.

"Three of them. Total rogue scum," a girl answered, her voice laced with deep disgust. "The disciplinary enforcers dragged them in before dawn."

My heart did a violent, sickening flip against my ribs.

The omegas.

The enforcers had caught them.

Sierra grabbed my sleeve, her hands shaking as she tried to peer over the shoulders of the tall Alphas in front of us. "Adeline, look... they’re clearing a path. The Student Council is here."

The dense crowd parted instantly, dropping into a dead, terrified silence. Four figures walked out of the morning mist, moving with the quiet, terrifying grace of apex predators.

The Four Kings.

In the lead was Raven. His face was a flawless mask of lethal, royal Lycan fury, his broad shoulders rigid beneath his immaculate black uniform. Right behind him stood Blake, his usual lazy playboy smirk completely gone, replaced by a sharp, calculating focus. Keiran moved like a silent executioner, his dark eyes scanning the crowd with pure menace.

And then there was Zyran.

He walked with an easy, fluid grace, a pristine white button-down shirt visible beneath his open blazer. His golden eyes scanned the spectators with a casual, mocking amusement, as if the entire world was just a game built for his entertainment.

My fingers tightened into white-knuckled fists inside my hoodie pockets, my nails biting into my palms. The phantom taste of copper and the vile, crude threats of those three men flashed violently behind my eyes. I looked away from Raven immediately, stepping deeper into the crowd to pull myself completely out of his line of sight. I didn’t want his protection anymore. His attention was what had put a target on my back in the first place.

Instead, my gaze locked firmly onto Zyran.

The devil himself. He looked so clean, so perfect, standing there as if he hadn’t ordered a group of monsters to destroy a girl’s life just a few hours ago.

As the four of them stepped into the centre of the clearing, the crowd held its breath. The three bruised, bloodied omegas from last night were forced onto their knees in the dirt, heavy iron chains binding their wrists.

The leader—the one I had kicked—had a swollen face and walked with a heavy limp. His bloodshot eyes scanned the crowd in pure terror until, suddenly, his gaze brushed past the tall Alphas and locked directly onto me. Even beneath my deep hood, he recognised me. A visible flinch went through his scarred face.

Zyran followed the rogue’s line of sight. His predatory eyes swept lazily over the crowd, tracking exactly where the man was looking, until his gaze stopped right on me.

Through the shadows of my hood, our eyes met.

I didn’t blink. I didn’t hide. I kept my face entirely deadpan, refusing to let him see the agony in my ribs or the terror in my soul. I let him see the cold, unyielding wall of my hatred.

A tiny, almost imperceptible shift passed over Zyran’s rugged features. The mocking amusement in his eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, sharp spark of surprise. He looked at my hidden face, then down at the slight, stiff way I held my shoulders. He knew I had survived. Now, he knew his twisted little plan had failed.

"Who gave you the authority to cross the gates?" Raven’s voice boomed through the courtyard, a raw, terrifying rumble of Lycan dominance that made half the students drop their heads. He stood over the kneeling rogues, his dark eyes burning with fury. "Speak, before I let the executioner take your heads right here."

The leader of the omegas trembled, his teeth chattering in fear. He glanced down, his mouth opening to speak, desperate to save his own skin.

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