POV: Francesca
The howls were closer now.
They rolled through the forest like a living thing, rising and falling with the wind, no longer distant enough to mistake for imagination. My breath came in sharp bursts as I stood at the mouth of the cave, rain plastering my hair to my face, my soaked skirts heavy around my legs.
I glanced back one last time. The forest behind me had transformed into something monstrous.
Trees twisted together like grasping limbs, their branches clawing at a sky split open by lightning. Thunder cracked so violently it felt as if the world itself were tearing apart. Storm clouds churned overhead, thick and black, pressing down like a curse.
The red thread at my wrist tugged insistently. I turned back toward the cave.
Its entrance yawned wide and dark, jagged stone framing a descent into shadow. Every werewolf in the kingdom knew this place. The elders spoke of it in hushed voices, as if even naming it might summon misfortune.
This place is terrifying. It’s the one where King Cassian sends and tortures his enemies, anyone who dares enough to question his legitimacy and power. But whatever is inside… it can’t be worse than the fate of a slave.
Another howl cut through the storm, so close now that my skin prickled.
I made my choice. Clutching my coat tighter around my shoulders, I stepped into the cave.
The rain’s roar dulled instantly, replaced by a heavy, echoing silence broken only by the slow drip of water from the ceiling. My boots scraped against stone as my eyes adjusted to the dimness—and then I froze.
Torches lined the walls. Their flames burned steady and bright, casting flickering shadows across the rock, revealing a passage that stretched deeper than I could see. The air was warmer here, thick with the scent of smoke, metal, and something older… something powerful.
Each step felt like crossing an invisible boundary. The cave sloped downward, the walls narrowing until the space felt deliberate, carved not by nature but by intention. My heart thundered in my ears as I followed the thread around a final bend—
And stopped dead.
At the heart of the cavern stood a massive iron cage. Its bars were thick as my wrist, blackened with age, every inch etched with glowing runes that hummed faintly, as if alive. Chains snaked across the stone floor, heavy and cruel, all converging on the cage like veins.
Inside sat a man.
He was half-naked, his body lean and powerful despite the confinement, muscles carved sharp beneath pale skin. Torn trousers hung low on his hips. Silver shackles bound his wrists and ankles, each one carved with the same glowing runes as the cage, pulsing softly with restrained magic.
His hair spilled over his shoulders in pale waves, almost white—platinum blond, like moonlight trapped in flesh. And his eyes—
Golden. Wild. Alert. Watching me with the focused stillness of a predator who had already decided I mattered.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
The red thread stretched from my wrist straight to his hand, glowing brighter now, taut as if drawn between us by an unseen force.
He did not look broken or mad, or beaten. He looked like a king waiting to be unchained.
“I am Wilhelm, the Lycan Prince,” he said, his voice low and steady, carrying effortlessly through the cavern. “Free me. I’ve been waiting for you for ten years.”
Prince? The word struck me like a physical blow.
I stared at him, my thoughts scattering. The Lycan Prince had been gone years ago. Executed, some said. Others whispered of exile or betrayal, but the truth had been buried beneath Cassian’s coronation.
How could a prince spend ten years in a cage?
Just looking at him makes my skin prickle. My feet moved before my mind could stop them. One cautious step closer. Then another.
The warmth grew with each movement, seeping into my bones, chasing away the cold that had nearly claimed me outside. My heart raced, not with fear alone, but with something sharp and electric, humming beneath my skin.
As I drew nearer, my gaze caught on a mark at the side of his neck. A royal sigil! I swallowed hard.
“It can’t be true,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “The Lycan Prince is dead. Cassian is the king now.”
A faint smile touched his mouth, slow and knowing. The closer I get, the warmer I feel… What is this between us?
Wilhelm’s gaze never left my face. His eyes softened—not weakened, but focused, as if he were memorizing me.
“The Moon Goddess has finally sent you to me,” he said quietly. “My mate.”
Mate. My breath caught painfully.
Memories surfaced unbidden—soft ones, fragile as glass. My mother’s voice, warm and gentle, telling me stories by the fire before sickness stole her away and poverty hollowed my father into a stranger. She had spoken of true mates then, of bonds woven by the Moon Goddess herself, unbreakable and eternal.
Two souls tied beyond choice. Beyond reason.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trembling, unsure whether the shaking came from cold, fear, or something far more dangerous. This couldn’t be real. And yet—
I stepped closer to the cage.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice barely steady enough to carry.
For a moment, Wilhelm remained still. Then he moved.
He lunged forward with startling speed, chains clanking as he gripped the bars, iron groaning beneath his strength. The sudden closeness stole my breath. Heat radiated from him, fierce and undeniable.
A slight smile curved his lips, predatory and intimate all at once.
“You,” he said simply. “I want you. If you leave now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
Panic surged through me, sharp and overwhelming. I stumbled backward, my heel catching on uneven stone as I turned toward the cave entrance, toward the storm and the howling wolves and the miserable certainty of death or capture. I had to leave. I had to—
Metal scraped.
Wilhelm slid his hand through the bars, fingers stretching toward me, golden eyes blazing as they followed my every movement.