Deviant Kings: Claimed by The Four Lycan Kings

Adeline’s pov~

I was not here just to find my wolf.

I was not here just to learn about my birth parents.

I was here for something far bigger. The truth.

Sitting on the edge of my creaking cot, I pulled my black signature hoodie over my head. I opened my palm, looking down at the small, worn notebook resting in my hands.

My fingers slowly grazed the faded ink on the old paper, tracing the words as if I could somehow feel the secrets buried inside them.

I snapped the notebook shut, slipped it inside my inner pocket, and stood up. I glanced toward Miya’s bed. She was fast asleep, her breathing heavy and uneven.

I checked my phone screen. The harsh digital numbers read 1:04 AM.

Pulling my hood low over my eyes, I moved like a phantom. I turned the door handle slowly, slipping out into the hallway without making a single sound, and clicked the lock back into place.

The corridor was pitch black, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the high archways. My steps were slow, light, and calculated.

My hands remained shoved deep inside my hoodie pockets, my head kept low, but my eyes were sharp, scanning every single shadow as I navigated the winding hallways.

I was heading straight toward the West Wing—the restricted zone. The place where only pureblood Lycans had access. The Four Thrones.

It was the same high-security library Kieran had dragged me to earlier. I had been inches away from grabbing the historical records I needed before that bastard ruined everything.

Now, I was back.

I stopped right in front of the massive double doors. The hand scanner on the wall hummed softly, casting a faint green glow across the cold stone floor.

Kieran had used his palm to bypass this exact lock. This place was strictly reserved for the Four Thrones. A scentless, wolfless defect like me had zero authority to enter.

But I knew the file I needed was sitting on one of those inner shelves. And I wasn’t leaving this academy without it.

I walked along the wall, searching for an alternate entry point. I inspected the long stained-glass windows, but there were no latches, no cracks, not even a breath of space to slide a blade through. It was completely sealed.

I was about to double back when a sound cut through the silence.

A deep voice was yelling further down the restricted corridor.

I paused, every nerve in my body going completely still. Normally, I would have turned around and vanished into the shadows before a guard caught me.

But I didn’t move.

Because through the heavy, quiet air, I heard my own name.

Adeline.

They were talking about me.

I pressed my back against the cold wall, gliding silently toward the source of the noise. The sound was echoing from the heavy iron threshold of The Vault—the deepest, most dangerous archive in the entire wing.

The vault door was standing slightly ajar. A thick sliver of warm light spilled out onto the floor, which was why the muffled voices were carrying so clearly down the hall.

I recognised the voice instantly. Blake.

I gritted my teeth, preparing to turn on my heel and retreat before they saw me. But before my foot could even hit the flagstones, Blake’s next words hit the air like a thunderclap.

"Raven!!! Adeline is not your fucking mate!"

I froze.

The world around me stopped dead. The air starved out of my lungs.

Mate?

Me?

The Second Throne’s mate?

Lord Raven’s mate?

My mind went completely blank, the shock running through my blood like pure ice. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I just stood there in the dark, staring at the crack of light.

My heart stopped.

"No, we don’t know that for sure!" Raven’s voice slammed against the stone walls, thick with a dark, desperate tension I had never heard in him before.

"I know for sure!" Blake spat back, his tone rough, sharp, and impatient. "She said she didn’t throw up your blood. She healed completely, and that is normal because she didn’t throw it up! Her body took it!"

"What if she is lying?" Raven shot back instantly. The sound of his heavy boots echoed as he paced the floor inside. "What if she threw it up and is just hiding it from us? What if she got terrified after what Zyran pulled on her this morning? You rushed into this, Blake!"

"And what if she wasn’t lying?!" Blake snapped.

"I am not dropping this until I confirm it myself!" Raven roared, his voice shaking the heavy iron hinges.

"A Lycan’s true mate always rejects the blood at first—they throw up the prince’s blood even while the physical wounds heal! The magic repairs the flesh, but the body rejects the blood acceptance until..."

He stopped, taking a jagged breath before his voice dropped into something raw and dangerous.

"The wolf expects full physical union. It demands real intimacy, a soul bond, a mark. Until a Lycan marks his mate, her body will fight the blood. So if she threw up my blood... she is my mate. And I need to know for sure if she is mine!"

"You are overreacting, Raven," a third voice cut in. Zyran. His voice was low, smooth, and cold as ice. "She said she didn’t throw up. She accepted the blood. That means she is just another normal one. She is not your mate."

"I will find out for myself," Raven growled.

The sound of heavy, fast footsteps echoed from inside the room, coming straight toward the open door.

They were coming out.

Panic hit me like a physical blow.

My legs felt like lead, but I stumbled backwards, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it felt like it would break. I turned on my heel, scrambling down the pitch-black corridor, trying to put distance between myself and the vault.

Before I could take three steps, a cold, heavy hand shot out from the dark.

It clamped tightly over my mouth, cutting off my scream, while a powerful arm wrapped around my waist.

In one violent motion, I was dragged backwards into a hidden, shadowed alcove.

I thrashed against the grip, but a low, familiar voice breathed right into my ear.

"Shut up if you want to live," a harsh whisper commanded.

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