Deviant Kings: Claimed by The Four Lycan Kings

Adeline’s pov~

"There is no class today, Adeline," Sierra said softly, her eyes wide with fresh worry as she looked at the empty hallway. "The schedule changed because of the perimeter breach. The only thing left today is the mandatory combat training out on the grounds. Come on, we have to go."

I forgot. I can’t go to the combat training.

"I am not going to the arena," I said. My voice dropped into a flat, completely exhausted whisper.

Sierra blinked, completely stunned. "What? Adeline, the combat orientation is mandatory for everyone. The entire academy is out on the sands right now. If you don’t show up—"

"I’m not doing it. I can’t," I cut her off. I tightly gripped my bruised ribs through the thick fleece of my black hoodie, wincing at the sharp sting.

The truth was, the white-hot adrenaline that had fueled that public slap was completely gone. Now, it left behind only the cold, crushing reality of my broken body. Every single breath felt like inhaling shallow glass. The mere thought of stepping onto those open sands, feeling hundreds of predatory, mocking eyes locked on me while my shoulder throbbed and my lip bled, made me feel physically sick. I wasn’t a fierce warrior right now. I was just a tired, deeply hurting girl who desperately needed the world to stop moving for just five minutes.

"Go to the arena, Sierra," I murmured, giving her a small, tight nod. "Don’t get dragged down with me. Just tell them I collapsed in the dorms or something. Please."

Sierra looked at me, the conflict tearing through her hazel eyes before she finally let out a long, defeated sigh. "Okay. Okay, I’ll cover for you. But please, just... stay hidden."

The moment she turned the corner toward the outdoor stadium, I let my straight spine crumble.

I leaned heavily against the cold stone wall of the empty corridor, closing my eyes as a quiet, shaky breath escaped my lips. A single, hot tear slipped down my face, soaking instantly into the fabric of my hoodie.

Instead of heading toward the crowded arena, I turned and walked in the exact opposite direction, deeper into the main academic block.

The building was a complete ghost town. The heavy wooden doors to the grand lecture halls stood wide open, exposing rows of empty tiered desks. The usual chaotic chatter, the heavy, suffocating scent of competing Alphas, the scraping of the chairs- all of it was entirely gone, swallowed by the distant, muffled roar of the crowd out on the combat fields.

I slipped into our empty history classroom, navigating the shadows until I reached the very back row. I slid into a corner seat and buried my face in my arms on the cold wooden desk.

The silence in the room was deafening, absolute, and for the first time since the omegas cornered me last night, I let myself tremble. I clutched the fabric of my sleeves, the physical pain in my stomach and shoulder pulsing in a cruel rhythm with my heartbeat.

Zyran had tried to destroy my dignity, and I had struck a Prince of the Throne in return. The consequences were coming, heavy and unavoidable. I knew the peace wouldn’t last. But for right now, in the empty, dust-speckled light of the empty classroom, I just let my guard down, pulled my hood tight, and wept in the dark.

I sat there for what felt like hours, my head resting heavy on the cold wood of the desk, holding my face in my hands. I kept my face completely buried, using my arms like a shield to hide the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. The absolute silence of the room was the only comfort I had, a tiny sanctuary where I didn’t have to pretend to be strong.

Then, the heavy click of the classroom door echoed through the quiet.

My heart leapt into my throat. The sudden movement sent a sharp, agonising flare straight through my bruised ribs.

Footsteps. Two sets of heavy, deliberate boots clicked softly against the stone floor, stepping inside.

Before they could notice anything, I scrambled to wipe my face against the soft fabric of my black hoodie, aggressively rubbing away the tears. In one swift, painful motion, I yanked the rim of the thick hood all the way down over my face, burying my swollen left cheek and split lip back into the safety of the dark shadows.

I didn’t move. I kept my hands shoved deep into my pockets, my spine locking back into a rigid, unyielding line as I stared straight ahead.

Through the narrow opening of my hood, I watched them approach.

Blake and Keiran.

They walked up the tiered aisle, their massive frames casting long shadows over the empty desks. Blake didn’t have his usual lazy, playful smirk; his features were uncharacteristically serious, his dark eyes locked onto my covered form. Beside him, Keiran moved like a silent predator, his lethal dark eyes scanning my rigid posture, calculating every micro-movement of my shoulders.

They hadn’t gone to the combat arena. They had tracked me here.

"Well, well," Blake said softly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room as he stopped just a few feet away, leaning his hip against the edge of a desk. "The girl of the hour. You skipped the arena, pretty girl. Do you have any idea what kind of chaos you left behind out there?"

Blake didn’t try to make a joke this time. His voice was quiet, stripped of all the playful banter from the courtyard. He stepped closer, his heavy shoulders blocking the light from the window, while Keiran stood just a step behind him like a wall of solid stone. The air in the empty classroom instantly grew heavy with the suffocating pressure of two elite Lycans.

"We aren’t here to drag you to the arena, Adeline," Blake said, his dark eyes trying to peer beneath the deep shadow of my hood. He leaned forward slightly, his face deadly serious. "But you just publicly humiliated a Prince of the Throne. You slapped Zyran hard enough to leave a mark, and instead of tearing you apart, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. He completely blanked out."

Keiran took a step forward, his heavy boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. He didn’t cross his arms this time. His lethal dark eyes locked onto the exact side of my hood that hid my bruised cheek, his nostrils flaring slightly as if he was trying to catch a scent I didn’t possess.

"Zyran is volatile, but he doesn’t take a blow from anyone without drawing blood," Keiran rasped, his gravelly voice vibrating in the quiet room. He leaned down, bringing his massive frame into my personal space, demanding my full attention. "He knows something, and you know something. What exactly happened between you two last night?"

I kept my hands shoved deep inside my hoodie pockets, my fingers clenching into tight fists to stop the trembling. Every breath was a battlefield against my crushed ribs, but I kept my chin up, refusing to lean back into the chair.

"Nothing happened," I said, my voice a flat, deadpan wire.

"Don’t lie to us," Blake cut in, his voice tightening with rare frustration. "Zyran is covering his tracks, Raven is completely in the dark, and you’re hiding in an empty classroom shivering beneath a black sweatshirt. We aren’t fools, Adeline. If there is a war brewing between the Thrones because of whatever Zyran did to you, we need to know now."

"There is nothing," I repeated. My voice was just a flat, empty whisper, barely cutting through the silence of the room. I kept my chin tucked down, ensuring the dark fleece of my hood completely swallowed my face.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!