ADIRA

The long oak table is set with the kind of precision that only the Lycan King’s household can command. Silverware gleams under the dim amber light of flickering chandeliers, casting shadows that dance on the faces gathered around the room. The air is thick with unspoken grudges and ambition, a cocktail I’ve learned to sip carefully. Tonight, it tastes bitter, and ripe for a challenge.

I sit between Zeus and the King, my fingers lightly tracing the rim of my wine glass, the crimson liquid swirling with slow, deliberate movements. My heart pounds, but my expression stays smooth, controlled. I’m not a girl who cowers beneath royal scrutiny.

The...