Chapter 2: Lucian’s POV

Suffocation.

That's been the dominant emotion these past six months since I took the Silver Crown throne. Not because of the heavy Alpha King's crown, but because of the cloying, nausea-inducing she-wolf scent saturating the council chamber right now.

"Lucian, are you even listening to me?"

The Queen Mother's voice cut through my thoughts. She sat at the far end of the long table, her well-preserved face radiating unquestionable authority.

Beside her, Melissa Wren fixed me with a gaze she clearly thought was alluring.

"Of course, Mother." I leaned back in the velvet high-backed chair, idly turning the royal signet ring on my thumb. "You just said the Wren family is willing to supply half the royal army's provisions for the coming Long Winter—on the condition that I formally announce Melissa as my Luna at next month's Harvest Festival?"

At the sound of her name, Melissa ducked her head demurely. But the pheromones rolling off her hit me like a beast in heat, brazen and unrestrained.

The wolf inside me let out an irritated growl.

It was resisting. Violently. A top-tier Alpha's instincts were exacting when it came to a mate, and Melissa's calculating scent triggered nothing but revulsion in my inner wolf.

"Your Majesty," Melissa spoke softly, her delicate hand reaching for the silver goblet on the table.

Just then, a serving girl accidentally splashed a few drops of red wine onto Melissa's skirt.

"Peasant!"

Melissa's pupils contracted. Those manicured hands snapped out razor-sharp wolf claws in a blink, slashing toward the girl without mercy.

"Enough."

I didn't raise my voice, but the pressure of an Alpha King exploded through the room.

The air froze.

Melissa went pale, claws locked in mid-air.

Under the weight of bloodline suppression, her instinct screamed to submit. Her whole body trembled, no longer under her control.

The serving girl had already collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Retract your claws. In my palace, you don't get to punish royal servants." I stared at her coldly. "Get out."

Melissa bit her lip, eyes brimming with tears, but she didn't dare defy an enraged Alpha King. She fled the council chamber, skirts clutched in her hands.

The serving girl scrambled out after her.

"Lucian! You've gone too far!" The Queen Mother shot to her feet. "The Wrens control a third of the capital's wealth and the Royal Guard! You need their support!"

"I need submission, Mother—not a leash someone's trying to choke me with." I forced down the destructive urge rising in me.

"You think your throne is secure?" Her voice carried a warning. "That old fool in Northvale still refuses to surrender border command! His son, Adrian Vale, is already en route to the capital with a fully armed escort! If the North rebels, the Wrens are our only shield!"

"I'll handle Northvale." I stood. "As for my Luna... she will never be a viper who only knows how to abuse the weak."

Ignoring Mother's furious recriminations behind me, I shoved open the heavy oak doors and strode back to my bedchamber.

The moment I entered, I tore off the cravat choking the breath from me.

Foolish nobles. They thought dividing spoils at the council table kept the kingdom running. But the secret dispatches from the border told a different story—thousands of landless rogue wolves and refugees flooding the capital. The Lower District's despair was nearing a breaking point.

And at a crisis like this, all I heard were the nobles' sugar-coated lies.

The City Guard's reports claimed refugees were properly settled. I didn't believe a word of it.

I had to see for myself.

At the wardrobe, I stripped off the elaborate court robes and pulled on a plain black linen shirt with no family crest, and a worn leather jacket.

I mussed my hair to shadow my brow. The hardest part was masking my scent.

As an Alpha King, my presence was too aggressive. Walk down any street and every wolf would sense me instantly.

I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath, and began compressing those potent pheromones deep inside. An excruciating process—like locking a storm in my own ribcage.

My bones ground faintly. Cold sweat beaded my forehead. Only when my scent matched any ordinary wolf's did I stop.

I studied myself in the brass mirror.

No crown. No guards. No halo of superiority. Just a man named Lan.

I turned, pushed open the hidden door behind the bookshelf, and slipped through the secret passage into the capital's damp, clamorous night.

The wind carried the Lower District's signature stench—cheap ale and roasted meat.

My instincts told me the Broken Tooth Tavern tonight might show me this kingdom's true face.