The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 3

Ariel.

She’s trembling—oh, so pitifully—until her eyes land on me. Then it vanishes, like a snake shedding its skin, and she smiles.

Fuck no.

I’m on my feet so fast my chair screeches behind me. I don’t care that the packhouse is filled with people. I don’t care that I haven’t eaten in two days. I don’t care that my knees are barely holding me up.

All I see is her face.

That lying, manipulative, two-faced—

“You fucking bitch!” I snap, charging at her like a woman unhinged. Because I fucking am.

“Sorin—!”

“Don’t you fucking say my name!” My hands are already halfway to her perfect golden curls. I don’t know what I’m going to do—slap the shit out of her? Rip her to shreds? Honestly, I might just scream in her face until my voice gives out.

Her scream is high-pitched and full of practiced fear. “Wade!”

She clutches his shirt like she’s some helpless porcelain thing and not the demon wearing an angel’s mask. Wade’s arms instantly tighten around her, shielding her from me.

From me.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Wade snarls, grabbing my wrist mid-lunge. His touch is rough, his eyes venomous. “You’ve really lost your fucking mind!”

Oh, we’re doing this.

We’re really doing this.

“You think I don’t know what you did?” I spit, trying to wrench free, but he’s stronger. “This is all her fault! She framed me! She’s been playing you this whole fucking time!”

“She saved me!” he yells in my face like I’m the one who betrayed him. “She saved all of us, Sorin! You—you betrayed the pack!”

My throat closes up.

And just like that, the air around me thickens.

He shoves me backward—nothing too violent, but enough that I stumble, enough that the crowd gasps and tightens around us like a noose. My back hits the edge of a table, and pain shoots up my spine.

Ariel whimpers again. Like clockwork. “Wade . . . please . . .”

“Oh, don’t start crying, you damn snake,” I hiss, but my voice cracks halfway.

Fuck, Sorin. Don’t crack now.

Wade turns to the crowd and my heart drops.

“She’s pregnant,” he announces, voice proud, loud enough to echo off the damn chandelier. “Ariel is pregnant with the Alpha’s heir. My heir.”

Silence.

That kind of silence that screams in your ears.

My stomach flips, and I blink once,

Twice,

Three times, trying to make the words make sense.

The crowd is buzzing behind me, voices whispering, eyes darting between us as if this is some goddamn soap opera.

And then I see it.

Her hand slides down to her stomach.

Round. I didn’t notice it earlier.

It’s already showing.

She’s . . . she’s months along.

The room spins.

They did it before the war. Before all this. When he kissed me goodbye and promised me forever. When I waited at the gates, every night, wondering if he’d come back.

When I prayed for him. When I begged the gods not to take him from me.

He was fucking her.

I think I’m going to be sick.

My knees give out a little, but I don’t let them hit the floor. No. Fuck that. I won’t give them that. I grip the edge of the table.

“Wade . . .” My voice is too quiet, too fragile for how I feel. “You said you loved me.”

“Don’t twist this,” he snaps, pulling Ariel closer. “You chose your path. You made your decisions. You betrayed the pack. She . . . she believed in me. When you didn’t.”

Every eye in the room is on me. No one steps forward. Not even the ones I used to call friends. No one says anything. They just look. Judging. Pitying. Disgusted.

I’m the liar. The traitor. The crazy ex.

“I didn’t betray you,” I whisper, but it’s too late. The scene’s already been painted. Ariel’s won.

And the fucking brush was in Wade’s hand the whole time.

She leans into his chest, hiding her face, pretending to cry. But she looks at me. Just barely. Her mouth twitches like she’s holding back a smile.

And that’s when I know.

No one is going to save me.

But I wasn’t going to fucking beg.

Not after everything I’ve done. Not after everything I gave up.

Not after every fucking bruise I wore like a goddamn badge while smiling beside Wade like a good little Luna.

So I straighten my spine. My skin is sticky with humiliation, throat raw, but my voice, that shit stays steady.

“I want a trial.”

The room stills.

My voice isn’t loud. Doesn’t need to be. Everyone heard it.

Wade flinches. Just barely. As if someone yanked on the strings he’s too stupid to realize are attached to his balls.

I keep going before he can stop me, before she can open her mouth again and turn everyone’s brain to fucking oatmeal.

“My father—Beta Calen—died for this pack. Died for you,” I say, dragging my eyes to Wade like dragging a blade across skin. “And you think I’m just going to kneel and take the fall for something I didn’t do?”

He stares at me. Blank, unreadable. But not because he doesn’t feel anything. It’s because he doesn’t know what to feel.

Good. Let him choke on it.

“You don’t get to spit on his memory like that,” I say, lifting my chin. “He saved your life, Wade. When you were a scrawny little boy hiding in the cellar with a fever and a broken leg, it was my father who pulled you out.”

Wade’s nostrils flare. “And my father died that night,” he growls. “Because your fucking father didn’t come back for him.”

I blink.

What?

No.

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