Deviant Kings: Claimed by The Four Lycan Kings

Adeline’s pov~

"I know you have been doing all of this for your grandmother," I whispered, the words tasting like copper and ash on my tongue.

"I know I’m just an assignment to you—a duty passed down from the Dowager Luna to keep an unwanted defect breathing. But if that is the case, don’t worry. I will personally talk to her. I will tell her myself that I don’t want your protection anymore, that I refused it. It won’t cause any trouble for you, Lord... Raven. You won’t fail your duty, and you don’t have to worry about me ever again. You will be completely off the hook... free from this burden."

Something inside Raven broke at those words.

A sharp, audible intake of air caught in his throat, his dark eyes flaring with a sudden, agonising flash of raw something, hurt?.

The dominant, untouchable Prince of the Second Throne looked at me as if I had just plunged a dagger straight into his ribs and twisted it.

But it didn’t stop there. Seeing the pain in his eyes felt like someone plunging the dagger straight into my chest and twisting it. I felt that pain in my chest seeing his eyes.

"Adeline—" he breathed softly, his voice cracking at the edges, stripped entirely of its arrogance. "That’s not—"

I didn’t let him finish. I didn’t give him the chance to fix his words, to wrap me back up in his suffocating shadow, or to offer me another piece of his dangerous, highborn magic.

I turned on my heel and walked away.

I kept my chin low, hiding beneath the hood of my hoodie, my shoulders set, and my eyes locked straight on the double doors where Sierra was waiting in the shadows.

I didn’t glance back at the highborn nobility whispering in their booths, I didn’t look at the luxury dining hall crumbling around my ears, and I damn sure didn’t look back at the solitary figure sitting in the dark corner booth, watching my departure with an unreadable, devastating silence.

Every step I took away from him felt like dragging a heavy blade through my chest.

Sierra was waiting just beyond the threshold, her back pressed against the cold stone wall, pacing nervously. The moment I pushed through the heavy iron doors, her head snapped up, her eyes wide with frantic alarm.

"Adeline! Oh my god, are you insane?!" Sierra hissed under her breath, rushing forward and grabbing my arm. She dragged me into the deeper shadows of the corridor, her voice dropping into a desperate, terrified whisper.

"You just stood up and walked away from Lord Raven! Right in front of the entire Royal Hall! Do you have any idea what you just did?!"

"I did what I had to do," I said softly, my voice hollow and quiet.

I didn’t recognise the tone of my own voice. It sounded drained, stripped of all the fiery rage that had burned through my lungs just seconds ago.

"What do you mean?!" Sierra whispered loudly, her fingers tightening around my sleeve as she ushered me down the quiet, dimly lit hallway toward the residential wing.

"Adeline, nobody talks to the Second Throne like that! Nobody turns their back on a Prince! Everyone in that room saw you reject him. The upper houses are going to think you’re either an untouchable favourite or a suicidal rogue. If his protection is off the table, the omegas who beat you this morning are going to come back to finish the job! They will kill you."

Wait, I never said to Sierra that I was under The Second Throne’s protection. How did she know that? And I only said to her that Zyran hired the rogues and they did that to me, but I never said they were there to kill me. How did she know that too?

I froze. The hollow numbness in my chest suddenly flickered with a cold, sharp spike of adrenaline.

I peeled Sierra’s fingers off my sleeve, taking a deliberate step back into the shadow of an arched alcove. The dim sconce light played over her face, exaggerating the high flush on her cheeks and the wide, frantic pulse in her throat.

"Wait," I said, my voice dropping lower, cutting through her panic like a blade. "I never told you I was under the Second Throne’s protection, Sierra."

Her breath hitched. She blinked rapidly, her lips parting, but no sound came out.

"And I told you Zyran sent rogues who beat me this morning," I stepped closer, locking my gaze onto hers. "I never said they came to finish the job. I never said they were trying to kill me. How do you know that?"

The silence between us stretched thin, brittle as ice. Sierra swallowed hard, her eyes darting past my shoulder toward the empty corridor before snapping back to me.

"Adeline, are you out of your mind? You’re paranoid," she stammered, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her tunic. Her laugh was sharp, brittle, and entirely hollow.

"On your very first day at the Academy, when you bumped into Blake, and he was about to rip you apart—Raven stepped in. He literally pulled you away from Blake and told the entire courtyard, ’She’s with me.’ Everyone saw it. Everyone heard it. You’re scentless, Adeline—a walking target. Why else would the Prince claim you like that unless he was keeping you safe?"

She took a fast, shallow breath.

"And the omegas?" she pressed, her voice trembling with an urgent, defensive heat.

"Zyran hates you. Rogues don’t just beat someone black and blue in the dead of night to send a message; they do it to eliminate a threat. I didn’t need you to detail the blood on the floor to figure out you barely escaped with your life! I’m trying to keep you alive, and you’re interrogating me?!"

She sounded convincing. Almost frantic enough to be believable.

But as I stared at her, watching the subtle flutter of her pulse against her jawline, a quiet, sickening truth took root in the dark corners of my mind.

She had answered too fast.

"Right," I whispered softly, letting a tired shadow fall over my face to conceal the sudden, deadly clarity hardening inside me.

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