The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 234

**TITLE: Never Love 234**
**Alexander’s Alpha Half**

“And what if I choose to withdraw from this binding?” I inquire, though deep down, I already anticipate the reply.

“Your consent is of no consequence,” Krell states with a chilling detachment. “What we require is not your agreement, but your very essence. The ritual intertwines power with power, bloodline with bloodline. Your conscious involvement is irrelevant to its success.”

As we step into a chamber that feels foreign to me, I notice it has been meticulously arranged for some arcane purpose. A circle of shimmering silver powder is meticulously etched into the floor, encircled by flickering candles and ceremonial artifacts that form intricate patterns I cannot decipher. Moonlight pours through a circular opening in the ceiling, casting a silvery glow on the center of the circle, where two smaller rings intersect in a delicate dance.

Selene stands at the perimeter of the circle, her face a mask of neutrality as she meticulously prepares a fragrant mixture in a silver bowl. She avoids my gaze, her eyes carefully averted as if afraid of what they might reveal.

“You can’t genuinely support this,” I assert, straining against the grip of my captors. “To destroy half of someone’s essence is fundamentally wrong. Whatever grievances your people harbor against mine, this transcends mere politics or prophetic destinies.”

For a fleeting moment, I catch a flicker of something in her gaze—perhaps doubt, or an internal struggle. But before she can articulate her thoughts, Vega steps in, her presence commanding.

“Position him in the northern arc,” she orders the guards, her voice sharp and unyielding. “Princess, take your place in the southern arc. The binding must commence precisely as the moon aligns in the aperture.”

As they force me to kneel in the designated position, I reach out again, desperately trying to connect with my other half, hoping to send a warning, a message, anything that might aid in this dire situation. But the chasm between us feels insurmountable; the connection lies fragmented after the splitting.

Instead, I center my thoughts on the mate bond with Lyra—the silver thread that connects us, feeling stronger even in my diminished state. I concentrate fiercely, pouring every ounce of my being into a single message along that bond: Danger. Ritual. Moon peak. Binding.

Whether she can perceive my urgent impressions, I do not know. But it remains my only hope of alerting her to the unfolding events, of warning her that our carefully laid plans have now been irrevocably compromised.

Vega begins to chant in an ancient tongue, her voice weaving through the air in rhythmic patterns that make the silver powder of the circle shimmer with an otherworldly light. Selene kneels across from me, finally locking eyes with me across the distance. What I see there is perplexing—not triumph or malice, but something akin to regret.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she murmurs softly, her words intended only for me amidst the louder incantations. “Not like this.”

“Then put an end to it,” I implore, desperation creeping into my tone. “Whatever your people have told you about prophecy and destiny, this ritual distorts both.”

She shakes her head, a slight movement that conveys her resolve. “It’s too late. The splitting has occurred. Without the binding, both halves of your essence will wither away within days. At least this way, part of you survives.”

“As a pawn for your people’s ambitions?” I retort bitterly, Alpha rage surging within me. “I would prefer to die whole than to exist as half a slave.”

Something in my words seems to penetrate her carefully constructed facade. Her composed demeanor falters, real emotion breaking through—conflict, regret, and perhaps the beginnings of understanding.

Before she can respond, Vega’s chanting swells to a crescendo. The moonlight streaming through the ceiling aperture intensifies, focusing directly on the center of the circle where our two arcs converge. The silver powder begins to glow, lines of light extending outward, forming intricate patterns across the floor.

“The binding begins,” Vega proclaims, her voice echoing with authority. “Alpha essence to ancient bloodline, power to power, destiny fulfilled as prophecy decreed.”

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