Page 45 of Lycan’s Hunt

But the straps hold firm, and exhaustion quickly sets in. I fall back against the table, panting. Tears of frustration prick at my eyes.

“I have no other choice, Bianca. Do you think I want to be tied to the bitch?” Rhett’s voice cuts through the silence, low and dangerously calm, a quiet fury lurking beneath each word. “It’s the only way to secure my claim over the ports and Jefferson’s pack. Once I mark her, there will be no question of my authority within the council—not now that her father’s dead. And her mother…”

My heart sinks, cold fear slamming into me. No. No, please don’t let that be true. The thought that they could both be gone, that I might never see my parents again, claws at me, threatening to drown me in grief. I force it back, shoving the emotions down with every ounce of will I have left. There will be time to grieve later. If I let myself fall apart now, Rhett will win. And I can’t let that happen.

I cling to that thought, using it to steady myself. My survival—and any chance of stopping him—depends on keeping my mind clear. I don’t have the luxury of breaking down, not here, not now. Instead, I focus on the only thing that matters: escaping. Whatever twisted plan Rhett has concocted, I have to stop it. Because one thing is clear—if he succeeds in marking me, everything will change. And not for the better.

Rhett’s words echo in my mind, sinister and sharp. The ports… Jefferson’s pack… I can feel the weight of his ambition, cold and calculated like a snake coiling around my throat. His goal isn’t just to control me; it’s about seizing power, consolidating his hold over the council, and taking everything that once belonged to my family. He wants my lineage, my ties to the packs, my birthright—and he’ll do anything to get it, even if it means binding me to him against my will.

The sick realization settles over me, and a fresh wave of nausea rises in my throat. He’s going to force me into this—trap me as his mate, his property. With my father gone and my mother possibly dead, there’s no one left to challenge his claim. He thinks he can take everything from me, turn me into a puppet he can parade in front of the council, a symbol of his new power. He has lost his damn mind if he thinks Soren won’t come for me; if not for me, he will for Max. I have to believe that.

I bite down on my lip hard enough to taste blood. The sharpness anchors me, a reminder I’m still here, still fighting. But as I lie strapped to this metal table, helpless and alone, panic begins to edge around the corners of my mind. If Rhett marks me, the mark will force me to obey, to submit to him in every way. It will strip away any chance of defiance, trapping me in a bond I never asked for.

The image of Rhett’s smug face as he forces his claim on me, of him parading me before the council as his possession, fuels my resolve. I’d rather die than let him mark me.

I close my eyes, struggling to hold onto that thought, to block out the fear and the rising despair. The darkness is closing in, the overwhelming sense of helplessness pressing down on me. I force myself to listen further, to catch every word filtering through the vent. Knowledge is power, and if I’m going to escape, I need every scrap of information I can get.

Beyond the vent, Bianca’s voice crackles with contempt. “And you think the council is going to let this slide? The moment you mark her, they’ll see right through your scheme. You’ll have nothing but a mate who despises you.”

Rhett’s laugh is a low, chilling sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “They won’t have a choice. Once she’s marked, her loyalty will be to me, not them. It’ll make her compliant, obedient, and if the council knows what’s good for them, they’ll fall in line.” He pauses, and I imagine his calculating eyes narrowing as if he’s seeing this all unfold in his mind. “Besides, who’s going to stop me? Her father’s dead, and her mother…” He chuckles, a humorless sound. “Her mother was a loose end. Now she’s nothing.”

The words hit me like a slap, and a fresh surge of anger roars to life within me, hot and blinding. My nails dig into my palms as I strain against the restraints, fury bubbling beneath my skin.

He’s taken everything from me.

Bianca’s voice cuts through again, though there’s a note of caution now. “And if she fights back? You can’t control her forever, Rhett.”

“She won’t fight back; not once she’s marked. The bond won’t let her, and if she resists… Well, I have ways of dealing with disobedience. She’ll learn to be grateful I didn’t just kill her.”

“You think his pack will just accept you? I thought you were dismantling the pack?”

I hold my breath.

“They won’t have a choice.”

“Once I claim her, she’ll be mine—completely; she is their rightful Alpha, and they’ll have no choice but to submit to me.” The possessiveness in his tone makes me want to retch. “With her as my mate, I’ll gain control over the council and everything Jefferson left behind. It’s the only way to ensure we’re untouchable.”

The words settle like poison in my mind, and a wave of nausea twists my stomach. Rhett isn’t just after power; he’s after absolute control, and he’s willing to use me as a pawn to seize it. By forcing a bond with me, he’d claim my birthright as his own, subjugating my pack and forcing them to bend to his will. He wouldn’t care about the traditions, the people, the alliances carefully built over generations. All he wants is the authority the bond will give him—control of the council, influence over the packs, and a foothold in the heart of my family’s legacy.

If he succeeds, he’ll be unstoppable.

As they continue to argue, I redouble my efforts to escape, tugging frantically at my restraints, biting down on the panic clawing at my insides. My wrists burn from the chafing, but I don’t care. I can’t stay here, trapped, helpless, while Rhett spins his web around me, around my pack, around everything my family built.

He continues, voice dripping with dark resolve. “I’m not losing this opportunity, Bianca. I killed my own father for everything to come together, and I won’t let some council members ruin it because of this bitch. She just had to run to the king.”

He killed his father? Rhett’s ruthlessness knows no bounds. He’s willing to destroy anyone who stands in his way, even his own blood. And if he’s already proven he can do that, what would he be willing to do to my people—to the wolves of my father’s pack, my pack!

“You’re insane,” Bianca hisses, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and disgust. “This is too far, Rhett. Even for you.”

“Insane?” Rhett snarls. “I’m the only one seeing clearly here. This is our chance to take control, to reshape the pack into something stronger, to take the entire city. You knew this!”

Reshape the pack? The implications hit me hard. If Rhett gains control, he won’t just stop at my pack. He’ll expand his grip, he’d hold the largest pack in the country if he forces my father’s pack into his. The council, already a fragile balance of alliances and rivalries, will crumble under his manipulation if he continues taking pack after pack. The packs—once independent, proud—would be crushed into a single entity under his rule, obedient to his whims, stripped of their voices and freedoms. The idea makes my blood run cold.

And the ports… If he takes over, he’ll control the flow of goods, people, and information. The ports are a lifeline, connecting us to other packs, to alliances beyond our territory. Under his control, every transaction, every alliance, would be subject to his scrutiny, his greed. Trade would suffer. Packs would be cut off, isolated, forced into submission. Our community would be weakened, the bonds between packs severed as he drains every resource for his own gain. He’d strangle the heart of our territory until there was nothing left.