Deviant Kings: Claimed by The Four Lycan Kings

Adeline’s pov~

Of course, Raven must have told them. Word moved like a venomous plague through the High Thrones, and it seemed my shattered past was their newest piece of sick entertainment.

"You were cast out by your pack... or rejected by your mate?" Keiran asked with that slow, cold tone.

"Mates," I corrected softly. The word tasted like rust and acid on my tongue, leaving a bitter, metallic burn behind.

Kieran shifted in the shadows. His heavy leather boots made no sound against the stone floor as he stepped out from behind the towering marble pillar. "Two?"

"Twins," I murmured, keeping my eyes glued to the faded, blank margins of the heavy ledger open in front of me, refusing to let him see the raw damage in my eyes.

He moved closer, his towering shadow stretching over the wooden table until it completely swallowed the dim, flickering amber light of the desk lamp.

The sudden, freezing pressure of his highborn Lycan aura settled over the small space like a physical weight, pinning the air right in my lungs and forcing my scentless wolf to cower in the dark depths of my chest.

"Did they sever the mate-bond during the mating ceremony?" he asked, his tone so coldly analytical it made my skin crawl. "Or did they execute a formal rejection the exact second they realised you were their mate?"

I stayed dead silent. My back stiffened, my teeth grinding together so hard a dull ache radiated straight up into my jaw.

"I am talking to you, Adeline," Kieran said, his voice dropping another octave, carrying that terrifying, unyielding authority of a Lord who ruled a High Throne.

I need to keep moving, I screamed internally, my pulse hammering wildly against my ribs as my trembling fingers frantically swept across the ledger.

Gods, please. I just need to get his attention onto something else. Anything else besides me, my severed bond, and my pathetic, ruined backstory.

"Answer me," he commanded softly, stepping right up to the edge of the table, his sharp, predatory dark eyes locking onto the slight tremor in my hands.

BZZZ. BZZZ.

The sharp, sudden vibration of a phone shattered the suffocating tension hanging in the room.

Kieran halted mid-step, the sheer weight of his highborn aura flickering for a fraction of a second. His jaw tightened into a rigid, dangerous line as he reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the glowing device.

He stared at the caller ID, his sharp eyes narrowed. Whatever name flashed across that screen brought an immediate, dark shift to his demeanour. Without uttering a single word, he turned on his heel, his heavy leather boots making silent, rapid strides as he vanished down the dark, vaulted corridor.

The heavy iron door clicked softly shut behind him.

The second I confirmed he was truly gone, the meek, subservient façade evaporated into thin air.

I bolted into the restricted stacks, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"Ten years ago... come on, where the hell are the records from ten years ago?!" I spat under my breath, my lungs burning as adrenaline surged through my blood.

My fingers flew frantically across the spines of the dark, ancient tomes. Dust exploded into the air, choking my dry throat, but I didn’t care.

I dragged out a massive, iron-bound ledger tucked away in the deepest, shadow-drenched corner of the bottom shelf and slammed it onto the mahogany table.

My hands trembled violently as I threw open the cover.

The black-and-gold seals of all Four High Thrones stared back at me—a symbol of supreme, unyielding dominance.

I flipped through page after page of yellowed parchment, my eyes desperately skimming past execution logs, territory transfers, and treason trials.

Then, my gaze locked onto a single line written in bold, ancient ink, and the world around me stopped dead.

Scarlett — Rank: Beta (Pack Assignment: Classified)

Mated and Bonded to Alpha Fredrick.

Alpha Fredrick Position: Supreme Right Hand & Grand Commander to the High Concord of the Four Thrones.

I froze. The air starved out of my lungs.

Mom? Dad?

A cold, violent shock washed over me, numbing my fingers against the parchment. My mind reeled, spinning into a terrifying, suffocating abyss.

My parents... weren’t from some weak, forgotten lower-tier pack? All my life, I had been raised believing my bloodline was worthless, born from low-ranking rejects left to rot in the mud.

I had believed my father and my mother were a nobody who met a pathetic end.

I was wrong.

Fuck, I was so wrong.

Alpha Fredrick hadn’t just served a small territory.

Wait... So he was under these four thrones?

He was the Supreme Right Hand to the High Concord—the master strategist who commanded the elite military forces directly under all Four Thrones.

He had walked among the highest royalty in the realm, answering directly to the House of Dravenmoor, and the rest of the High Houses. He had held the keys to the supreme court.

My breath hitched in my throat as my thoughts spiralled.

If my father was that powerful... if he stood beside the Four Thrones... why was I abandoned? Why was I cast out as a scentless, worthless defect? What happened to them?

Oh, I remember.

The memory of those harsh words from the luna of the Crescent pack hit me.

Luna Selena. Mated to Alpha Daren.

Mother of Lucas and Logan.

The one who took me in, and I still don’t know why she took me in the first place, when all she did to me was torment me, abuse me, physically and mentally.

She told me many times.

"You should be grateful that you are still alive, Adeline. Your parents are pathetic fools. They betrayed their own pack; they are nothing but traitors. Fucking traitors. They leaked the core, important, shielded project details. You should be ashamed of what your parents did. You deserve to die and rot in hell just like your parents would be right now."

Frantic, my trembling fingers dragged down the page, searching for any other record, any mention of a trial, a battle, or an execution.

Nothing.

There was no mention of my parents’ death.

"No, no, no... why isn’t there anything else?!" I whispered frantically, my pulse roaring in my ears. I turned the heavy page, my heart practically leaping out of my chest.

On the next page, dated exactly ten years ago, a single entry was catalogued under a royal seal of secrecy:

Operation: Zenith Concord

Primary Communicator: Alpha Fredrick (Grand Commander)

Intermediary Mediator between the Four Thrones and Alpha Daren of The Crescent Pack.

Status: Major Sovereign Alliance Drafted.

My eyes widened as I stared at the name.

The Crescent Pack.

Alpha Daren.

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