Finn's POV
The studio gates loomed like iron teeth. I stepped through, the scent of fake blood and sweat slapping me harder than the California heat. Outside, the Hills smoldered, ash staining the sky. Inside, they’d built a pantomime of apocalypse - extras in matted fur howling at a green screen, their plastic fangs glinting under klieg lights.
A director barked into a headset. "Action!"
A truck flipped, screeching on cables. A blonde actress spilled out, naked and screaming. From the rafters, a man in denim descended, Gatling gun roaring blanks. Extras dropped, melodramatic, as he scooped her up. Their kiss was all teeth, a parody of passion.
"Cut!" The director rubbed his temples.
Complaints about the heat erupted - especially from the actress, who snatched a robe and cursed the air conditioner's death.
"Lycidas, could you try to use your tounge this time?" the director shouted.
The cowboy - Lycidas - flashed a grin, all wolfish charm. "Where's the fun in that?" His voice dripped honey and gravel.
I watched him saunter off, the swagger of a man who'd never stopped riding horses. The lounge door hissed shut behind him.
Inside, the air stank of bourbon and ego. Lycidas shrugged off his denim jacket, muscles rippling under sweat-sheened skin. He didn't turn as I locked the door.
"You're pretty but you're not my type," he drawled, pouring whiskey into a smudged glass. "And I only fuck one actress per day, sweetheart. Rules are rules."
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Interesting choice. Playing a werewolf hunter… when you're practically a werewolf yourself."
His glass froze mid-sip. A vein throbbed in his neck, dark as a root snaking under bark. "Don't know what you're peddling, stranger, but exit's that way. Gently close the door. Don't slam it."
I flexed my fingers. Steel claws slid free, glinting under the fluorescents.
He stilled. Then laughed - a low, dangerous sound. "You're one of those enhanced freaks, huh?" He circled me and grabbed my hand, boots scuffing the floor. "Leonald fucking did it! That lunatic delivered! That's so freakin' surreal! I've heard that he did vivisection in my father's underground bunker. Was that real? Tell me everything. But most importantly, can you turn into a fucking steel gorilla? Huh?"
"Your father's dead."
The glass shattered in his fist. Amber liquid bled across the floor.
"Lucian killed him," I continued. "Jalin's whispering poison in his ear and locked up your brother-in-law Lucas. Now I managed to get Leah out, but Leah's still missing..."
He moved faster than I expected. One moment by the bar; the next, my collar twisted in his grip, my back slamming into the wall. His eyes glowed - gold, feral.
"Who. The. Fuck. Are. You.”
"My name is Finn Farrow, Your Highness," I kept my voice steady, though his breath scorched my face.
He remained in silence while staring into my eyes.
"I am the ruler of Mediland and all the rogues. And your sister needs you now. Lucian is still hunting her. And you?" I scoffed. "Playing cowboy."
He dropped me like a stone. The room erupted - a lamp exploded against the wall, chairs splintered under his fists. His right hand bulged, knuckles cracking, claws tearing through skin.
A Lycan Prince uses Lycan power to throw a Lycan tantrum.
When he finally stilled, chest heaving, I offered him a suit. "Done?"
He stared at it, then barked a laugh. "Polite for a mutt."
Breathing hard, he walked toward me. Glass crunched under his boots. "Did I scare you?"
I faked a gasp, clutching my chest. "I'm terrified, Your Highness."
He snorted, stripping his denim shirt. Muscle rippled as he shrugged into a tailored suit. I stepped closer, knotting his tie with deliberate slowness. I adjusted his tie, my fingers brushing his pulse.
"Ever met before?" He tilted my chin up, calloused thumb grazing my jaw.
I tilted my head to fix his cufflinks and didn't say a word.
He caught my wrist, brushing the steel still jutting from my knuckles. "Why come to me?"
"Because you have the right to know the truth." I leaned in. "And as your loyal subject, Your Highness, I have to break this bad news to you, because no one else seems to even bother..."
"Cut the bullshit," he pushed me against the wall and said. "I'm no longer a Lycan prince. My father disowned me and cast me out of the Kingdom years ago. I have zero interest in learning whatever fuck is going on in that fucking shit hole. However, I do have some interests in you."
"Your Highness," I said. "I thought you said one actress a day."
"But you're not a fucking actress, aren't you?" he smirked.
A knock rattled the door. "Sir? Everything okay?"
He stepped back, suit suddenly immaculate, and opened the door.
The security guards peered in, eyes wide at the carnage. "What's going on?"
"We were having a conversation," he said. "until you knocked on the door."
The security guards were looking at one another. Judging from the look on their faces, I could tell that this wasn't the first time they had encountered situation like this.
Lycidas shouldered past them, all swagger resurrected, leaving me standing there in the mess like an idiot.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he tossed over his shoulder. "You're coming, right?"
I immediately followed, claws retracting.
Outside, the hills blazed molten amber.
He sparked a cigarette, the lighter’s flame flickering unsteadily between his fingers. He drew deeply, the ember flaring like a dying star.
"You smoke?" he asked, extending the pack with a casual wrist flick.
"Your Highness, I—"
"For fuck’s sake, Finn." His eyes narrowed, ash scattering like fractured patience. "It's Lycidas."
I took a cigarette from him and he lit it on for me. The camera crew stared as we walked into the parking lot.
Cole materialized from the shadows, ever punctual.
"Your driver?" Lycidas' smirk cut sharper than his motorcycle's chrome edges.
"Yes, Your High... I mean, Sir."
His laughter crackled through the gasoline-scented air.
A helmet sailed toward me, its trajectory daring me to catch fate.
"Perfect," he purred, straddling the snarling Harley. "He can follow us."