Chapter 129

Zane~

Michael’s words still lingered like smoke in the room, curling around the edges of my composure. I didn’t let it show, but Red stirred restlessly inside me, his presence sharp and watchful.

I gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’m still waiting, sir,” I said casually, folding my arms, “why do you think I don’t have dignity p>

Michael’s eyes narrowed, his calm veneer slipping just enough to show the flash of distaste beneath it. Owen looked at him, then stepped forward.

“Because, child,” he said like he was talking to a toddler, “a man with dignity wouldn’t take another man’s fated mate, no matter the circumstances p>

Ah. So that’s what this was really about.

I paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle into the space between us. Then I tilted my head, still smiling, but the air around me had changed.

“If the man in question,” I began slowly, “was foolish enough to reject what the Moon Goddess gave him freely… then someone else—someone who can see the beauty in the gift—has every right to cherish it p>

Michael’s lips curled, but I didn’t give him the chance to respond.

“Love,” I continued, my voice lower now, deliberate, “isn’t always about fate. Sometimes, it’s about who’s willing to stay. Who protects. Who heals. And Natalie I trailed off for just a second, her name a warm ember in my chest, “she deserves more than someone who turned his back on her when she needed him most p>

Owen shook his head, exhaling a long, tired breath.

“I don’t trust you, Mr Lucky,” he said finally, and there was no sarcasm in his tone now—only solemn honesty. “I’m a seer. The best in the kingdom. But you? You’re the one person I can’t see. There’s… nothing. Not even shadows. And that makes you dangerous p>

I met his gaze with quiet understanding, even if Red was practically snarling behind my eyes. I knew what I was. What I carried. But I wasn’t here to prove myself to anyone.

“I don’t care if you trust me,” I said plainly. “The king does. And right now, what he wants—what he demands—is justice for Princess Katrina. That’s what matters p>

Silence stretched between us. The tension was almost tangible, like a string pulled tight between drawn bows.

“Now,” I added, stepping closer to the table, “hand over the evidence you claimed you had on Alpha Darius and the Silverfang pack p>

Owen’s chair scraped loudly as he stood, fury flashing like a storm behind his eyes. “You insolent child,” he spat. “You will regret ever stepping foot inside this palace. It was not built for street rats and mongrels p>

With an elegant turn, he stalked out of the room, his robe sweeping behind him like the trailing wind of a curse.

Michael didn’t move for a few moments. Then, without a word, he reached into his coat and tossed a thick envelope onto the table.

It landed with a soft thud.

“You might think you’ve won,” he muttered, voice low and sharp. “But my son will get Natalie back. I’ll make sure of it p>

I didn’t speak. I just watched him.

He stared at me a moment longer, then leaned in slightly. “Watch your back, Lucky. Even shadows bite p>

With that, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a moment, the room was quiet.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my jaw as I walked toward the table and picked up the envelope. Red huffed in amusement.

“They think they’re wolves in control. They have no idea the storm they’re inviting p>

I gave a half-smile, opening the envelope and pulling out the contents.

Documents. Reports. Letters with the Silverfang seal. And at the bottom of the stack—a photograph.

I froze.

It was her.

Princess Katrina.

But why… why did she look so familiar?

I leaned in, studying her face. Red hair. A soft, regal smile. Eyes like blue fire.

There was something about her—something I couldn’t place. It was like déjà vu wrapped in fog. I had never met her. I was sure of that. And yet… it felt like I had. Like a distant memory tugging at the edges of my mind.

Or, could she be No. I wasn’t going to jump into any conclusions.

Red went still inside me. “Zane… do you feel that p>

“I do,” I replied quietly. “But I need to be sure, Red p>

Setting the photo aside carefully, I flipped through the rest of the documents. Most were what I expected—records of Darius’s movements, rumors of missing girls, whispers of brutality dressed up as law. But a few stood out—personal letters. One written by Katrina herself, addressed to someone named Rhea. The handwriting was delicate, but rushed, almost frantic in places.

I didn’t read it yet. I wanted to, but not here. Not now. This needed a different kind of focus.

I reached for the mind link, allowing my thoughts to stretch outward like a ribbon of smoke weaving its way through the threads of familiar bonds.

“Abel p>

I called out softly, but the link flared to life almost instantly, humming with recognition.

“Yes, Your Highness?” came Abel’s voice, crisp but casual, like he’d been expecting me.

“Where are you right now?” I asked, already sensing the faint echoes of activity behind his voice.

“In Vereth. At your place, actually,” he replied. “Roland and I are digging into that security software you wanted us to look at. Why? Something up p>

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

“Perfect,” I said. “I’ve got a job for the two of you p>

There was a short pause, just a breath of silence, but I could practically hear the way they both tensed up.

“That sounded ominous,” Abel said slowly. “What kind of job are we talking about p>

Before I could answer, Roland’s voice cut in, laced with excitement I hadn’t heard in a long time.

“The kind that involves danger, secrets, and the chance to blow up some political stability? I’m in p>

I gave a quiet chuckle, letting my gaze drift back to the photo I’d been staring at for the past hour—Katrina’s photo. Her smile was beautiful, soft, almost shy. But the more I looked at it, the more it gnawed at me. Was it really her?

Something wasn’t adding up. And I wasn’t going to stop until I figured out what.

Whatever secrets were buried behind her smile—they weren’t going to stay hidden for long.