Chapter 118 Not without her
ADRIAN
I burst into the throne room, heart hammering so hard I swear the floor might feel it. My eyes lock on her first, Iris, in the center of the room, limbs trembling, bruised, her eyes wide and wary.
“Iris! Get away from them!” I shout, running toward her. “Are you okay?”
She doesn’t answer. She just blinks at me, eyes flicking between me and the figures surrounding her. And then I see it: the faint glint of fear, the way she’s bracing herself. My stomach twists.
And then my own reflection hits me. Blood. Still smeared across my arms, chest, face. My fight with Zeus hasn’t given me time to clean up. I must look like a savage. I hate that she’s seeing me like this, if she’s scared, I can’t blame her.
Before I can reach her fully, my father’s voice cuts through the room, cold and controlled. “Guards. Take him away.”
I glance at him. My chest tightens. “No. Not happening.”
“Adrian,” he warns, but the word is soft, almost regretful. I don’t care. I won’t leave without her.
The guards move in, but I move faster. Instinct, training, adrenaline. My first strike sends one staggering back, another misses as I pivot around a pillar. I feel the rhythm of combat, the familiar burn in my muscles, the adrenaline spike as I dodge and strike.
“Iris!” I shout over the clash. “Stay down! Don’t move!”
Her gaze is fixed on me, unwavering. She’s trying to stand taller than she feels. I grit my teeth, heart aching at her bravery.
A guard swings at me from the side. I duck, grabbing his arm and twisting, forcing him to the floor. Another rushes, I kick him back into a chair. Glass shatters, the sound snapping through the tension in the room. My body moves before my mind even catches up, weaving through attackers, countering strikes, relying on instinct.
I feel my father’s gaze on me, and I know he’s calculating, analyzing, waiting for me to make a mistake. I can’t. Not with her here.
“Enough!” a voice booms. The whole room freezes mid-motion.
The Lycan King steps forward. His presence fills the room, and suddenly the chaos stops. Guards hesitate, even my father falters. I look up, chest heaving, sweat and blood stinging my eyes.
“You,” the King says, eyes locking onto mine, “have a death wish?” And then, before I can speak, his hand snaps across my face. Hard. I stagger back, the sting of it radiating through my skull.
“You’re nothing but a lapdog,” he spits, venom dripping from every word. “All for Darian. Blind obedience. Pathetic.”
I don’t flinch. I don’t respond. I refuse. My jaw tightens.
He tilts his head, studying me like I’m some puzzle. “And now you stand in the way of what must be done. Iris will die. Darian will be free from the prophecy. All in the name of what is best for the pack. For our rule.”
I grit my teeth, anger coiling in my chest. “That’s not what Darian wants,” I snap. My voice echoes across the chamber. “He wouldn’t accept this. He wouldn’t!”
The King laughs, sharp and bitter. “Darian is a fool. Always has been. This isn’t about him. It’s about survival, about the future. What we do now ensures stability, strength, longevity. He cannot see it. He never could.”
I feel my fists clench, nails biting into my palms. My blood boils. “Then I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him as soon as I can. You won’t get away with this.”
The King steps closer, eyes narrowing, lips curling in a thin, dangerous line. “You will not interfere further. Guards. Lock him up. Keep him where he cannot act.”
Two guards seize me by the arms. I fight. I kick, twist, thrash, but I’m outnumbered. Pain shoots through my shoulders and ribs, but I refuse to go quietly.
“Iris!” I shout again, but the distance between us grows as they drag me backward. I see her glare, wide-eyed and unbroken, her fists clenching, trying not to cry out. My heart aches seeing her like that.
The King watches, arms folded. Calm. Controlled. Even as I struggle, I can feel his gaze boring into me, dissecting my every movement.
“Lock him fully. No chance of escape,” he orders.
The guards obey, tightening their grip, dragging me toward the side of the throne room where a holding cell waits. I kick out, catching one in the stomach. He grunts, stumbles back, but another takes his place.
“Adrian!” Iris shouts, voice sharp with fury and fear. “Don’t…don’t let them! Fight!”
I fight. Every fiber of me screams to get to her, but I can’t. They are too many. My limbs ache, bruises flare, blood streaks from cuts, but I won’t stop moving. Not yet.
The King steps closer again. “Struggle all you want,” he says. “It doesn’t change the outcome. You are bound by fate, by family, by blood. And you cannot defy it.”
I spin, trying to shove two guards off me at once, feeling the metal bars of the cell scrape against my shoulders. Pain. Exhaustion. But still, fire burns in my chest. I will not stop.
Iris struggles in the center, still standing, still brave, and I can see her will like a shield around her. It strengthens me, fuels me even as my arms ache and my vision blurs slightly from the fight.
The King watches it all unfold, a predator entertained by the desperate prey. “You see? This is why Darian fails. He would hesitate. He would weep for weakness. I do what must be done. You cannot save her. You cannot save him. Not without consequences you cannot imagine.”
My head snaps toward him. “I’ll find a way. I’ll…”
He interrupts with a laugh, low and menacing. “You think you’re clever. You think you can alter fate. But fate is not clever. Fate is inevitable. And I… I am the hand that guides it.”
One of the guards shoves me harshly into the cell. The metal bars dig into my shoulders. I twist, trying to swing an arm, but it’s useless.