<b>Chapter </b><b>104 </b>
Francesco’s Point of View:
“Touching, really,” he said. “So much blood spilled for a single Luna.”
My teeth bared. “You took something sacred. You touched my mate.”
Luca tilted his head, pretending curiosity. “She didn’t fight it for long. The poison worked better than I thought. Even <i>now</i>, she’s wandering like <b>a </b>lost doe, looking for a name she can’t remember.”
Rage boiled up. My ws slid free with a sound like steel unsheathing.
“She’ll remember,” I growled. “She’ll remember who she belongs to. And you-“I took a step forward “-will not leave this chamber alive.”
Luca grinned wider. “Let’s see if the Lycan Alpha lives up to his legend.”
He signaled his guards. They lunged.
Before they reached me, shadows mmed into them from the side. Marlow and my warriors, feral and hungry for blood, tore them down in seconds.
“Alpha,” Marlow said, stepping back. “He’s yours.”
I nodded once.
Then lunged.
Luca was fast. Faster than I remembered. He twisted and rolled under my first strike, de drawn–curved, ckened, tipped with wolfsbane.
Our ws and steel met in a shower of sparks.
Pain bloomed in my ribs. He shed deep. But I kept moving, letting the fairy push me forward. Every second I wasted here, Eine was slipping further away.
“Still slow, Francesco,” he taunted.
I backhanded him, sending him sprawling into a stone pir.
“You talk too much.”
He coughed, grinning through blood. “What, no speech about honor?”
“No honor for traitors.”
He lunged, dagger shing toward my throat. I caught his wrist mid–air and twisted hard. Bone cracked.
His scream was music.
But he kicked my knee, rolled backward, and threw a vial of something dark toward my face<b>. </b>
It shattered midair–burning smoke exploded. Poison.
I held my breath, eyes watering, and charged through it.
<b>He </b>wasn’t expecting that.
I tackled him to the ground.
<b>1/5 </b>
<b>Fists</b>. ws. Fury.
<b>I </b><b>lost </b>count of the blows<b>. </b>
Blood coated my knuckles–his or mine, I didn’t care.
He struck my jaw with the hilt of his de. I reeled for a second–just enough for him to roll away, coughing, panting,ughing.
“She’s forgetting you, you know,” he said hoarsely. “She cried when the memories started to fade. It was beautiful.”
Something snapped inside me.
I charged. He raised the dagger again, but I was faster now. Stronger.
My ws caught his chest–ripping through leather, through skin. He gasped. The dagger dropped.
I mmed him against the wall, one hand crushing his throat.
“You poisoned her.”
He wed at my wrist.
“She’ll never love you again,” he rasped.
“She already does.”
I reached into his chest with my free hand.
His eyes widened.
He realized what I was about to do.
“You don’t have the guts-”
I gripped his heart.
It pulsed once.
Then I ripped it free.
Luca’s body jerked. A choked gurgle left his lips. I held his heart high–beating still in my palm.
“For my Luna.”
Then I crushed it.
The explosion of blood painted the walls.
Luca’s body crumpled to the floor.
Silence.
I stood there, chest heaving, the weight of it all finally hitting me.
She was still gone.
I turned to Marlow. “Burn him into ashes and find Lira. I want every teleportation rune traced. We find her now<b>.</b><b>” </b>
“Yes, Alpha<b>.” </b>
Ten minutester, Lira, the most trusted person with the magic from the pack wasing, surrounded the glowing rune in Eine’s chamber.
<b>“</b>It’s old magic,” one said. “Mixed with wild blood and rogue symbols. This wasn’t a council spell it’s something darker.”
“Can you follow it?” I asked.
“We can,” she said. “But we’ll need time.”
Time. The one thing I didn’t have.
d still, I felt no peace.
I stepped back into the ruined hall. The rogues were dead. The council was destroyed. And s
Only a hollow space in my chest where she should be.
Eine, wherever you are…
I’ming.
Third–Person Point of View:
Silence fell over the battlefield.
The blood had dried. The cries of pain and war had faded. The council chamber–once a seat of corruption and control<b>–</b>nowy in ruins. The walls that held centuries of oppression crumbled beneath the weight of truth and retribution.
Smoke curled upward from the shattered runes and broken pirs. The bodies of fallen rogues and disgraced council membersy scattered, reminders of the war that had just ended.
And in the center of it all stood Francesco.
Chest bare and bloodstained. Shoulders squared. Golden eyes burning. The heart of the storm.
Thest true Lycan.
He stood tall over the remains of his enemy, every line of his body -thick and undeniable.
Behind him, Marlow stepped forward, still breathing heavily, his arm
his king.
diating raw power and unyielding dominance. His presence filled the air like gravity
dented and stained, but his eyes alive with pride to be standing beside his Alpha,
Other warriors emerged from the smoke–some limping, some bruised, all weary–but their gazes found their Alpha, and they stood straighter.
The witches<i>, </i><i>once </i>pressed to the edges <i>of </i>battle, now bowed their heads in reverence. Even the surviving council aides–those who had refused to side with the Elders–looked <i>upon </i>him with wide, humbled eyes.
It was Beta Alfonso who knelt first.
One <i>knee </i><i>to </i>the blood–soaked ground. Head bowed. Fist over his heart.
“My Alpha,” he whispered.
The sound echoed.
Then Marlow followed.
Then <i>the </i>warriors. <ol><li>Sat, 19 JEUDI </li></ol>
<b>Chapter </b><b>104 </b>
<b>Then </b><b>the </b>council left.
One by one, every werewolf, every loyal soul, dropped to their knees.
<b>Not </b>just <b>in </b>loyalty.
In recognition.
Of who he truly was.
Not just an Alpha.
<b>A </b>King…
The King of Wolves.
Francesco stood still for a moment, staring at the kneeling masses, his breath catching at the sight.
He hadn’t asked for this.
Hadn’t fought for a crown.
He had fought for her. For Eine.
But in doing so, he had reimed something the world thought lost.
Himself.
He looked down at his blood–streaked hands.
And then, slowly, he lifted his chin.
“This is <i>not </i>my victory alone<i>,</i><i>” </i>he said, voice clear andmanding. “This was earned by every w that struck for freedom. Every voice that rose against tyranny. Every wolf who remembered who we are.”
His gaze swept across the room.
“You kneel now not because I demand it, but because we rise together.”
A powerful wind swept through the broken chamber, catching the edges of banners<b>, </b>rustling ash into the air like snow. Moonlight pierced through the cracks in the ceiling.
And in that light, Francesco looked like something out of legend.
The King returned.
A howl broke the silence.
Low. Deep. From the soul.
Marlow raised his head and joined it.
Then another.
And another.
Until the chamber vibrated with the chorus of wolves.
A song of allegiance.
<b>14:01 </b><b>Sat</b><b>, </b><b>19 </b><b>Jul </b>
A <b>song </b><b>of </b>triumph.
A song for the King.
Francesco closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him.
But in his mind, he saw only one thing.
Eine.
Her face. Her scent. Her touch.
She was still out there.
And now that the world knew who he was again, he would make it move to find her.
He opened his eyes.
The howls faded.
And he spoke with a voice that rumbled like thunder across the world:
“I am Francesco Totti Lycaon. Last of the Lycans of Lycaon. King of Wolves. And I will not rest until my Luna is returned to me.”
Wait Eine… I wille and find you.