Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 111

**Fireflies in Winter Rain — Neil A. Varma**
**Chapter 111**

Roana,

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A heavy weight settled on my chest as I lingered in the dimly lit hallway, my gaze fixed on the scene before me. Cassian stood there, enveloping Carolyn in his embrace, her arms wrapped around him as if they were two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their match. It was as if they were always meant to be together, while I stood on the outside, lost in the echoes of a reality that felt increasingly distant.

The night air, thick with his lingering scent, felt like a cruel reminder of his absence. My heart ached in silence, each beat a painful reminder of my helplessness. My legs felt like they were rooted to the floor, as if they had forgotten how to carry me away from this torment. The warmth that usually coursed through me now surged violently, pulsating against my ribcage like a caged beast desperate to escape.

Rye, my wolf, growled low within me, her ears pinned back, tail flicking in agitation. I longed to look away, to flee from the harsh reality unfolding before me, but I was paralyzed. My eyes were glued to them, unable to tear myself away from the sight that was tearing me apart.

“He chose her, leaving us in this turmoil?” Rye whispered, disbelief lacing her voice, as if she struggled to comprehend the bitter truth of our situation.

Her initial excitement had morphed into a bitter taste, a cocktail of rage and disappointment that shook her to her core.

The world around me faded, blurring into obscurity. Servants, maids, guards—everyone was there, some whispering, others staring, their expressions a mix of admiration and hope, as if they were witnessing a sacred ceremony.

The sight twisted my stomach into knots. My hands balled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms as if I could anchor myself to reality. Every instinct screamed for me to flee, yet fear, shame, and an unwelcome curiosity kept me rooted to the spot.

Cassian turned his head slightly toward her, and for a fleeting moment, our eyes locked. His gaze was steady, controlled, and utterly unreadable, yet it carried a weight that struck me like a physical blow.

He didn’t pull her away. He didn’t even glance in my direction again. Just a subtle, almost imperceptible lowering of his gaze, a silent proclamation that rang clear: he was hers now. In that moment, I was invisible, a mere shadow in the background of their unfolding story.

All those moments of jealousy, the flirtatious banter, the insatiable thirst he had shown me—was it all just a facade?

Did he desire me solely for my body? Because I was his mate? Was there no respect left for me?

I had thought he was confused, torn between his love for me and Elle. But this moment painted a different picture—a stark shade of disrespect and disregard for my feelings.

I forced a brittle smile, hollow and fragile, trying to convince myself that I had anticipated this outcome. That it was destined to happen. That from the very beginning, the end had already been written. But witnessing it unfold before my eyes, feeling its weight so palpably, pierced me deeper than any words could ever express.

With a heavy heart, I turned slowly, stepping away from the window. The cold night air seeped through the room, biting and cruel. My legs felt heavy, my breath uneven and labored.

My gaze wandered around the room, landing on the untouched boxes—the gifts he had once made such a fuss over—staring back at me like cruel reminders of a happiness that now felt utterly out of reach. I opened the small black and red box on the nightstand, but my hands trembled, and I lacked the will to look inside. I shoved it into the drawer, perhaps to revisit later, when the time felt right.

Hunger gnawed at me next, a dull reminder of my physical needs that refused to be silenced even amidst the emotional storm. I decided to head to the kitchen. To my surprise, the house was eerily quiet.

Most of the servants had congregated near the main entrance, their heads bent, eyes glued to the scene that had just unfolded. I ignored them, pretending not to notice, though an unsettling awareness crawled up my spine. They had seen it all. They knew. Everyone knew.

I grabbed an egg and a handful of leftover rice, setting to work on a small plate of fried rice with chicken. Cooking provided a momentary distraction, a mundane task that helped soothe my frayed nerves.

But even as I stirred the food, the kitchen—larger than my old apartment yet somehow colder—felt bitter. The echoes of the grand space amplified the silence, and I realized that solitude here was heavy, almost unbearable.

As I plated my food, voices drifted from behind me, low and casual,

“I told you, His Majesty would do anything for Lady Carolyn. Honestly, I wish they were together!”

A soft chuckle followed.

“That’s right. She deserves the role of Luna Queen. She’s been managing the entire household since she was young. No one knows this place like she does.”

“They say His Majesty even considered her wishes over… her rival,” another voice added, sharp and venomous. “I heard Lady Carolyn begged him to reconsider the choice. Can you imagine?”

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