Two Wolf Kings, One Lie Chapter 03
I watched that small, unsteady figure running toward me, and something warm stirred inside me.
At the edge of my fading awareness, I thought she was coming to protect me.
But Lucy ran past me and threw herself into the woman’s arms.
Her small body pressed against Luna’s legs; she tilted her tear-streaked face up, and when she turned to look at me, her eyes were full of hate.
“You bad person!” she shouted in her sharp, childish voice. “Why are you being mean to Daddy and Mama Luna? Go away! Get out!”
I opened my mouth — but before I could say anything, she had already marched up to me.
That little hand swung high and hit me across the face.
It didn’t hurt. How much force could a child have?
But that slap cut deeper than Ryan’s punches and Luna’s blows combined.
Every time Lucy had coughed through the night, I had sat up with her. The first word she ever said was “Mama.” When she was sick, she would only fall asleep holding one of my fingers.
And now she stood at that woman’s side, using those little hands I had kissed a thousand times, hitting my face.
I lay there on the ground, my heart torn apart.
The home I had cared so much about had never been mine at all.
Luna crouched down beside me, tilting my chin up with one finger, a pitying smile on her face that didn’t reach her cold eyes.
“Elara, have you had enough?” Her voice was patient and soft, as if she were calming an unreasonable child. “Whatever anger you have, take it out on me. Ryan has spent years building his name in the Blood Wolf Clan. Are you really going to tear it down in front of the whole tribe?”
She glanced back at Ryan, and that glance was full of gentle hurt.
Ryan’s eyes went red at her words. He stepped forward and took her hand. “Luna, you don’t have to say any of this for me. I wronged you — making you deal with all of this.”
I watched their hands joined together, and my stomach turned.
I stopped looking at him.
My hand reached inside my robe and found the thin piece of sheepskin parchment close to my heart — the mate contract we had signed before a priest. It was the only proof of my place in his life. I had planned to bring it out at today’s ceremony so the whole tribe would know that I, Elara, was the wife of the Blood Wolf Clan’s Alpha.
But the moment my fingers touched the edge of the parchment, Ryan moved.
Something like panic flashed through his eyes — then he grabbed a wine bottle from the stone platform beside him and brought it crashing down against the back of my head.
Thud —
A dull crack.
Wine and something warm ran together down my neck, and my vision flooded red. My fingers slipped from inside my robe; the contract stayed hidden.
Awareness drained out of me like the tide going out, one layer at a time.
I was going to lose myself to the dark.
“Big sis Elara!”
Lucas’s shout tore through the ringing in my ears. I watched him wrench free of the two guards holding him — the bones in his shoulders cracking — the veins on his arms standing sharp.
The ropes binding him snapped.
He lunged forward and pulled me into his arms, pressing his palm to the wound at the back of my head. Warm blood pushed through his fingers.
“Ryan.” His voice was low — like thunder rolling before a storm. “What you have done tonight is an insult to every rule of the wolf clans!”
His arms were shaking — not from fear, but anger.
“A mate contract is a vow made before the gods. You broke that vow, let outsiders shame your own wife, and now you want to silence her?” Each word came out sharp and burning. “What you have done today, Ryan, is a disgrace to all wolf-kind!”
With one hand he shielded my head, with the other he reached toward the front of my robe: “Big sis Elara’s contract is right here — if I can get it out, everyone will see —”
The words hadn’t finished before Ryan’s face drained of color.
“All of you, on them!” he snapped. “Beat that meddling White Wolf to the ground!”
The guards surged forward.
Lucas held me, turning his back to take the first wave of blows. Fists and claws tore into his back, opening wound after wound — but he never let go.
In the chaos, Ryan threw his head back and howled.
The sound punched through the altar’s stone walls and rang out across the Moonlit Plains. It was the call of an Alpha summoning allies.
Moments later, a mess of footsteps came from outside the altar.
Dozens of grey wolves poured in — large-built, their fur rough and mixed, their eyes cool and watchful. These were the Grey Wolf Clan of the central plains, known for staying neutral and taking no sides.
Their leader shifted into human form — a rough-faced, middle-aged man named Marcus. He looked over the scene, his gaze pausing on Ryan and Luna before his expression shifted slightly.
He looked at Lucas — this silver-haired young man soaked in blood, clutching a woman as if his life depended on it. Clearly White Wolf Clan.
The Grey Wolf leader hesitated.
The White Wolf Clan’s land was far to the north, thousands of miles away. He had no reason to step into Blood Wolf Clan business, and even less reason to make an enemy of Ryan over one young White Wolf.
He stepped back, turning slightly to clear a path.
“Alpha Ryan,” he said, his voice even and flat, “this is your territory. We were just passing through.”
Ryan’s cold smile returned. He waved a hand at the guards: “Keep going. Beat them until they can’t get up.”
The guards rushed in again.
One kicked Lucas hard in the lower back. He grunted but held me tighter. Another grabbed his hair and drove his face toward the ground.
Then Ryan walked over to me, crouched down, and reached inside my robe.
He pulled out the sheepskin contract.
He unfolded it, looked it over — and a cruel smile spread across his lips.
“Is this what you wanted so badly, Elara?”
He gripped the parchment at both ends and pulled.
Rip —
It tore in half. The pieces fell into the blood pooled in front of me.
I stared at them, hurting, with nothing left to say.
He had torn it with his own hands.
I lay on the ground, fingers clenching and unclenching, over and over. Tears and blood blurred together, blotting out my sight.
Lucas saw the pieces fall. He let out a low, furious sound and lunged toward them — but more blows came raining down, hammering his face, chest, and back.
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, one drop at a time, falling onto my hands.
“Lucas…” I called, my voice barely there.
He twisted his mouth into a smile — a bloody one. “It’s fine… Elara, I’m here. Don’t worry. They’ll be punished for this.”
The blows kept coming.
His blood kept flowing, staining the stone beneath us red.
Then — just when I thought we would both be beaten to death here — steady, even footsteps sounded outside.
Not wolves. A unit.
Heavy boots broke the stillness of the night; iron armor ground together on the wind. Everyone stopped. Every head turned toward the altar’s entrance.
In the moonlight, a line of silver-armored guards marched in — wolf-head crests carved into their pauldrons, their swords gleaming cold at their sides.
At their head: silver hair, a face like stone.
When Ryan saw them, his eyes went tight.