Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 97

**Title: Fireflies in Winter Rain — Neil A. Varma**

**Chapter 97**

22.65 Vouchern

Roana,

“**Hired to raise me?**” The words slipped from my lips, a sharp gasp escaping as I stared at the five figures before me—two she-wolves and three he-wolves—standing like a regal painting. Their smiles were wide, almost smug, as if they had just shared a delightful secret that held no weight.

“**You mean… they worked as caretakers or nannies?**” I asked, my voice laced with disbelief, a wave of confusion crashing over me. I struggled to maintain my composure; it felt as if my entire childhood was being unraveled, revealing itself to be nothing more than a carefully constructed lie.

“**Exactly!**” They responded in unison, their faces aglow with an unsettling sort of joy, as if they were celebrating a family milestone.

I fell silent, though my heart raced, pounding against my ribs like a caged animal desperate to escape the suffocating weight of their revelation. My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my palms, grounding me against the tumult of emotions swirling within.

“**How cruel!**” I murmured, the words barely escaping my throat, as if they were fragile glass. “**My parents were hired to raise me by whom?**”

“**Our parents. You’re the youngest. They had to give you away to be raised twenty-six years ago, just after your birth!**” they declared, their voices tinged with a disturbing pride, as if recounting a family achievement worthy of accolades.

My throat constricted painfully, and a faint ringing filled my ears, drowning out the world around me.

“**Why?**” I asked, my tone icy, though my hands trembled, betraying the calm I desperately tried to project.

“**Well, you were the weakest among us. Handling a weak child was a bit complicated. Our parents wanted to give up on you, but later one of the elders decided to hire the Milestones since they didn’t have a child!**” the other female she-wolf explained, her voice disturbingly light, as if she were discussing the weather rather than my very existence.

“**So, you’re saying they didn’t want me because I was weak?**” I raised an eyebrow, incredulity coloring my voice.

“**That’s right!**” they affirmed without a moment’s hesitation. One of the he-wolves shrugged, as if this were common knowledge. “**Weakness is a curse to us. We Mortias hate weak things!**”

Mortia? I was a Mortia? The legendary silver wolves, reclusive and distant from the world?

My eyes widened in horror as a sharp pain pierced through my chest. It wasn’t merely their words; it was the casual ease with which they spoke, their faces remaining calm and composed while my insides twisted in agony. The silence that enveloped us felt like a weight pressing down on my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I swallowed hard, but the ache only deepened, a suffocating sensation that words could scarcely convey.

They had abandoned me, and now they acted as if they had done me a favor?

“**What a load of bullshit!**” I slammed my hands on the table, meeting their gazes with defiance. “**Why are you here then? If I was weak and you were ready to throw me out just because of that, what do you want from me now? To mock me? To look down on how things have turned out?**” My voice rose, barely contained rage spilling forth.

It felt humiliatingly absurd. Just because I was weak as a child, they had decided to discard me like some unwanted trash?

Suddenly, a splitting headache crashed over me, as if my mind was spiraling out of control. I glanced at each of them, searching for a flicker of guilt, but their expressions remained unchanged.

“**Why are you upset about it? Isn’t it natural? We sent you here to get stronger. Now you’re almost ready. It’s time for you to return home and fulfill your responsibility!**” The shorter he-wolf wore a condescending smile, as if he were bestowing a great honor upon me.

“**What responsibility?**” I asked, my voice dark and heavy.

“**What do you mean? Roana! As a princess of the Mortia, you have a responsibility to fulfill. You must—!**”

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