Deviant Kings: Claimed by The Four Lycan Kings

Adeline’s pov~

"So he wanted me gone? He wanted to rip my dignity, my soul, and my damn heart out just because his fragile, inflated little ego decided I was a threat?" I spat, the words scraping like crushed glass against the back of my throat.

My hands clenched into tight, violent fists deep inside my hoodie pockets, my nails biting so hard into my palms that skin broke, but I welcomed the sting—anything to keep from lunging across this table with that blade.

"Is that what you’re fucking telling me, Lord Blake?"

Blake let out a heavy, frustrated breath, running a broad hand over his face before looking back at me, his dark eyes refusing to break contact.

"He should have just come and confronted you himself," Blake said, his tone raw, exhausted, and exasperated.

"But his damned pride would never allow him to lower himself to talk to a transfer like that. So what does he do? He hired a few mercenaries from the outer ring to hand-deliver a message. But his orders were crystal fucking clear, Adeline— he said it was supposed to be a strict verbal warning! Nothing more! No claws, no blood! He would never order an assault on a female. For fuck’s sake, Adeline, he would never do something like that."

I scoffed, a bitter, lifeless sound that died almost instantly.

"Well, he fucking did, Lord Blake. Your precious King’s little ’verbal warning’ ended up with three omega bastards cornering me in the pitch black, trying to—"

"He didn’t!" Blake snapped back, slamming his forearms onto the wood and leaning over the table until his face was inches from mine, his eyes blazing with a terrifying, absolute certainty.

"Someone else hijacked those mercenaries, Adeline! Someone else wanted you dead. I am so fucking sure he would never order something like that! Zyran wouldn’t even stand by and watch that happen to anyone—not to any women!"

Someone else did that? Someone else wanted me gone?

"Let alone order the damn thing himself? No way in hell! He would never let another man lay a hand on a female without her permission if it happened in his sight. He swore a blood oath to protect females from that exact kind of cruelty, and he would never break something he swore on his own fucking soul to protect!"

My breath hitched in my chest. A cold, bizarre shudder ran down my spine, leaving me completely disoriented, the anger momentarily short-circuiting in my brain.

Swore to protect? What the hell is he talking about?

"Someone else ordered to kill me?" I asked, my voice dropping into a razor-thin whisper. "And what the hell do you mean, Lord Blake? What does that mean—he swore to protect? A blood oath?"

Blake went completely, terrifyingly silent.

The heavy conviction in his eyes faltered for the very first time, replaced by a sudden, rigid hesitation. His jaw tightened so hard I heard the joint click.

"Blake," I pressed, leaning forward, my dark eyes boring into his guarded face, refusing to let him retreat. "Answer me. What oath? What are you talking about?"

Blake dragged a hand down his face again, letting out a low, defeated growl.

"It’s... It’s something from his past, Adeline. He wasn’t always like this—this ruthless, arrogant bastard who pushes the entire world away. He wasn’t born with a heart made of pure ice. It all started years ago... when he lost his sister."

My heart did a strange, violent flip inside my chest.

Wait, what? A sister?

"He has a sister?" I asked, my brows pulling together in absolute disbelief, my voice cracking slightly under the weight of the shock.

As far as I know, four thrones, four Lycan princes, and zero siblings! There is no mention of a sister anywhere.

The instant the words left my mouth, Blake’s expression completely shifted.

A dark shadow of instant, sickening regret flashed across his handsome features, his eyes widening slightly as if he wanted to reach out and violently shove the words back into his throat.

"Listen to me," Blake whispered urgently, leaning in so low his chest was almost touching the table, his eyes darting around the empty archives.

"You do not talk about this to a single soul. Do you hear me? And you damn well do not ask Zyran about it unless you want your throat ripped out."

"But here is the plain truth... he lost his sister when he was young; he was still a kid when the tragic incident happened, and it completely fucking ruined him."

"Wait," I murmured, my voice trembling slightly as I stared at Blake. "What exactly happened to his—"

Before I could finish the sentence, Blake’s dark eyes abruptly shifted away from mine. His gaze flicked past my shoulder toward the shadowed aisle behind me, his tense, rigid posture instantly morphing into a relaxed, casual slump.

Following his sudden shift, I turned my head just a fraction.

My dark eyes instantly collided with a pair of piercing, dark ones.

Zyran was gliding down the aisle between the towering mahogany bookshelves, his massive frame moving with the quiet, terrifying grace of an apex killer.

My breath caught in my throat, a violent wave of heat and adrenaline spiking through my veins. I ripped my eyes away immediately, staring down at the dark wood of the table, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

Did he hear us? How long was he standing in the shadows? Does he know what Blake just told me?

The wooden chair directly beside mine was violently yanked back.

Zyran sat down right next to me. He slouched back into the frame, stretching his long, muscular legs out beneath the small table, his heavy boot brushing directly, involuntarily, against mine—while that usual arrogant, dangerous smirk played on his lips.

"So... what is going on here?" Zyran asked, his voice deep.

He tilted his head, his piercing, dark gaze sliding slowly from Blake’s guarded face straight onto mine, locking onto my profile until I could feel the heat of his attention burning my skin.

"Anything spicy being discussed behind my back? Or are you two just plotting another disaster? Apart from the part, of course, where the quiet, pathetic hoodie girl suddenly turned into a little warrior... slicing an Alpha’s wrist open in broad daylight?"

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