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“See? I told you–no one’s here. You’re just being paranoid,” one of the male vampires said as he stepped into the room, glancing around. His eyes lingered a little too long in one corner of the dimly lit space, and Zion felt his muscles tense. He could see the vampire through the small gap in the curtain.
Fortunately, the castle was always kept dark–vampires didn’t need light–and Zion’s cloak was still active, masking his presence. If not, he was sure they would’ve spotted him already.
The other vampire slapped his companion on the back of the head. “Don’t even think about it. If you touch her, the Lord will skewer you in front of everyone.”
“Tsk! I was just looking,” the first vampire grumbled. “Why can’t we join the fun outside? It’s boring guarding this deserted place. We can’t even touch that she–wolf. Tsk. Let’s go already.”
With that, they turned and left, the sound of their
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footsteps gradually fading into the corridor.
As the two vampires finally turned to leave, Zion could only assume that the ‘lord‘ they spoke of was the vampire lord himself, and that the ‘she–wolf‘ they referred to could be the one in the corner whom the vampire had been eyeing earlier. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Then, he noticed her.
A pair of glowing honey–colored eyes stared back at him from the shadows. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a pale glow into the far corner of the room–just enough to reveal what had been hidden there. A large iron cage.
And inside it, a woman.
Zion froze, halfway to the door, his breath catching in
his throat.
There she was–disheveled and worn, yet
unmistakable. Her once–golden hair was long, matted, and oily, clinging to her pale skin, but it still glowed faintly under the moonlight. Her eyes, bright and
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honey–colored, didn’t look like the result of her trying to shift–he realized with a jolt that they were her natural eye color. Then it hit him.
His body froze. His mind buzzed, the weight of recognition crashing down on him like a wave. ‘She’s the missing princess…? She’s been here this whole time?‘
Zion stepped closer, hardly daring to breathe. And that’s when he saw it–her belly, swollen with a pup. The shape was undeniable. Even more chilling was the sound–he could hear the faint, steady heartbeat of the pup inside her.
‘Shit… she’s pregnant?”
His heart lurched into his throat. This changed everything. He had come to rescue the captive werewolves–but instead, he had stumbled upon the missing royal princess, pregnant and locked in a cage. His thoughts scrambled for clarity as he tried to make sense of the impossible.
“A–Are you… the missing royal princess?” Zion asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.
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But the woman before him didn’t radiate the strength he had always heard about–the strength of the fiercest warrior, the one destined to inherit her father’s mantle. Instead, she looked fragile, drained. Was this really her? Or had the vampires done something to her?
‘What are you thinking?‘ Shura’s voice cut through his thoughts. ‘She’s pregnant. Her wolf is likely in recovery -she can’t shift like this. Werewolves don’t shift while carrying pups. It would risk the baby’s life.
The realization sank deep into Zion’s chest, replacing his doubt with understanding–and an even greater sense of urgency.
‘Right.‘ Zion finally remembered that crucial detail. He had been so shaken by the shock of finding the princess here that his thoughts had spiraled.
The she–wolf didn’t respond to his question. Instead, she let out a quiet, self–deprecating chuckle, her expression steeped in sorrow. To Zion, it looked like she was mocking/herself.
And he understood why.
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The royal princess–renowned for her strength, her unmatched combat skills–reduced to this. Captured, imprisoned, and now pregnant in enemy hands. For someone as proud and capable as her, this must feel like the ultimate disgrace. That hollow laugh–it wasn’t amusement. It was grief, shame, and resignation all at
once.
Zion’s heart twisted with pity. But more than that, a cold dread settled over him.
‘How the hell am I going to explain this to the Alpha King?‘ he thought. If he was summoned to report on this mission, how was he supposed to explain that he stumbled across the missing princess by pure chance? His stomach sank. He was completely mortified.
But Zion didn’t have the luxury of standing still–time was running out. He quickly scanned the room, knowing he had to act fast. Right then, as if on cue, Alpha Damon resumed hurling explosives into the sky. The booming chaos above served its purpose: to thin out the vampires and create distractions.
Zion took advantage of the noise, using the cover of
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the explosions to quietly force open the cage. Fortunately, it wasn’t reinforced with silver. Maybe the vampires were so arrogantly confident in their dominance that they didn’t consider the possibility of anyone getting this far–or of her being rescued at all. They hadn’t even bothered with silver cuffs.
It made sense, in a twisted way. Just as silver was a bane to werewolves, it was toxic to vampires as well. And holy water? Even worse. Their mutual aversion to certain substances meant the vampires likely avoided using them altogether–even on prisoners.
Maybe the vampires simply couldn’t be bothered. Judging by the princess’s condition, they probably didn’t think she had the strength or will to escape. She looked utterly broken, her spirit drained. She didn’t even react to Zion’s presence with hope or relief- instead, she gazed at him with hollow eyes, as if she already believed he wouldn’t make it out alive either.
Still, Zion took her silence and the faint,
self–deprecating chuckle as confirmation of her identity. So he adjusted his demeanor, treating her
` with the respect expected when standing bef
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royalty.
Curiously, though, his wolf didn’t instinctively bow to her as it should have. Werewolves were naturally compelled to submit to the Alpha King and his heir, but here, there was nothing. Zion reasoned it must be because her wolf was too weak to surface–damaged, perhaps, from prolonged torture. Whatever the
reason, he forced the thought to the back of his mind. It wasn’t his place to question it. That was a matter for the royal family to handle.
“So… may I know what I should call you, Princess?” Zion asked politely, his tone respectful yet carefully distant.
“Claire…” she rasped. Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, and her body looked frail–gaunt from starvation, her skin pale and stretched over bone.
Zion’s chest tightened with pity. He quickly pulled her out of the cage, but the moment her feet touched the ground, it was clear she couldn’t support herself. She stumbled, too weak to stand, let alone walk.
–
He had no choice.
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He considered carrying her on his back, but her swollen belly made that impossible. There was only one option left–carry her in his arms. The very idea made his stomach churn. His instincts screamed at him, and bile rose in his throat, but he bit down on his tongue, hard, and clenched his jaw.
With one arm beneath her bottom, he lifted her gently. Her thin arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Her scent hit him immediately–faint, but enough. Shura growled deep inside him, seething with barely restrained fury. Zion felt it too–the revulsion, the rage–but he held it down.
She was the princess. The future Alpha King. And the pup growing inside her might be the future of their entire race.
He would carry her. Whether he liked it or not.
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