Curse Of The Lycan King

I should've known.

The moment Dylan stepped onto that stage with his tie undone and his lips pressed into a flat, miserable line, I should've known something was wrong. Something was always wrong with Dylan, I just didn't want to see it.

The guests murmured. My heart thumped in my ears. I took a shaky breath and stepped forward in my ivory dress, the veil clutched in one hand. My smile wavered.

He didn't even look at me.

"Dylan?" I whispered.

He turned to face the crowd instead, jaw tight. "I-I can't go through with this."

Silence. Pure, suffocating silence. Then-

"What?" I choked, the word barely leaving my throat.

"I'm sorry," he said, like it meant anything. "But I'm not marrying Quinn."

Gasps broke out across the pack house hall.

My chest caved inward.

"My mate is in the hospital," he said louder now, for everyone to hear. "She's carrying my child. And she's in critical condition."

The room spun. My body turned to ice.

Mate?

Pregnant?

My feet moved on their own. "Dylan, what are you talking about?" My voice cracked, shaking.

"I can't let her die while I stand here pretending to love someone I don't." His eyes finally met mine, hard and cold. "I never loved you, Quinn."

Pain hit like a slap. I stepped back. My wolf whimpered in my mind.

He kept going. "I needed to prove to my father that I was responsible. That I could commit. That's why I proposed. That's why I played along."

Played along?

I laughed. It was sharp and hollow. "You used me."

"I had no choice," he snapped. "You think my father would've let me near the Alpha title if I didn't prove myself with the perfect, obedient she-wolf? You were convenient."

I clenched my fists. "Say that again."

But he turned his back to me.

That was it. No explanation. No guilt.

Just cold-blooded betrayal.

I could hear someone crying in the crowd. I didn't know if it was my aunt, my cousin-or me. My throat burned. I couldn't breathe.

My mother stood at the far end of the room, arms folded, face unreadable.

Of course she wasn't surprised.

Of course she knew.

She always knew everything before I did.

I turned toward her, and for once, I saw what she really thought of me. No pity. Not concerned. Just disgust.

"Don't make a scene," she mouthed slowly.

Don't make a scene?

I stormed down the aisle, ripping off my veil and tossing it to the floor. My father avoided my gaze like getting has always done when things get sour. Coward.

Outside, the wind howled. My hands trembled as I tugged off the heels. I didn't care that I was barefoot on the gravel path. I didn't care that I was still in my wedding dress.

I needed answers.

I needed a name.

I needed to know who Dylan threw everything away for.

So I ran.

The hospital smelled like bleach and betrayal. I charged up to the nurse's station, my voice steel. "I need to know who was just admitted for an emergency pregnancy. Critical condition. The father's name is Dylan Reid."

The nurse blinked. "Ma'am, we can't-"

"I'm his fiancée. Or... I was," I bit out. "Tell me where he is."

The nurse hesitated, then pointed. "Room 213. Maternity emergency wing."

I didn't thank her. I didn't slow down.

I burst through the door like a hurricane.

And there she was.

Cassandra.

My best friend.

In the hospital bed, propped up by pillows, looking pale and beautiful, was the girl I'd grown up with. The girl who laughed with me in high school, shared secrets, painted my nails, and told me Dylan was "just her cousin" when they met two years ago.

She looked shocked when she saw me. But not guilty.

"Quinn..."

I laughed bitterly. "You?"

She blinked, pretending to be confused. "W-What are you-"