The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92

“Don’t you see?”

Camilla’s voice cuts through the rain, sharp and precise as a surgical blade.

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I’m still on my knees, still shaking, still trying to breathe through the wreckage of everything I thought I knew. But she’s not done. Of course she’s not fucking done.

“He’s doing this whole pity party routine to ease his guilt. That’s why he saved you from that wretched pack.” She takes a step closer, and I can hear the smile in her voice even though I can’t see her face through the rain and tears. “Making you his queen. Protecting you. Playing the devoted mate. It’s all just a performance, Sorin. A way to make himself feel better about sending your father to die.”

“Stop,” I whisper.

She doesn’t stop.

“This is the memory you forced yourself to swallow,” Camilla continues, relentless. “Your mind couldn’t handle it—knowing that the boy you’d had a crush on since you were a kid turned out to be your father’s murderer. So you buried it. Locked it away so deep you could pretend it never happened.”

And just like that, I’m falling again.

***

I’m thirteen years old, and I haven’t eaten in four days.

The memory hits differently this time–not violent, just… hollow. Empty. Like I am.

The maids are crying in the doorway of my room. Afterall, I still am, the Beta’s daughter. “Please. Just a few bites. You need to eat something.”

The name feels like poison on my tongue, burning through every good memory I have of him. And there are so many–years‘ worth of them, stretching back to before I even understood what they meant.

Because Dad and Alaric’s family go way back. Like, way back.

Before Dad was Beta of Woodridge Pack, before he had any title or position or political power, he was just a rogue. A nobody. The kind of wolf other packs would’ve killed on sight just for existing in their territory.

But he saved Alaric when Alaric was just a kid. Pulled him out of some ambush or attack—I don’t remember the details because Dad never liked talking about it, said it was just “the right thing to do‘–and after that, he and Alaric’s father became inseparable. Best friends. Brothers in everything but blood.

The Imperial Pack already had a Beta, so Alaric’s father made Dad the Beta of Woodridge–the second strongest pack in the entire imperial continent. Gave him a position, a purpose, a family.

And Alaric…

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Chapter 92

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Goddess, Alaric used to visit all the time when we were kids. Him and his father would come to Woodridge, and Dad would light up in a way I rarely saw otherwise. They’d drink together, laugh together, tell stories about the old days while Alaric and I would steal pastries from the kitchen and play hide–and–seek in the gardens.

I’d had a crush on him since I was eight years old.

Thought he was the most beautiful, powerful, good person I’d ever met.

Thought maybe someday, when we were older…

The memory fractures, splinters into something sharp and jagged,

Because now I know the truth.

That beautiful, powerful, good person? He’s the reason my father is dead.

The man Dad saved as a child. The man Dad called family. The man whose father Dad would’ve died for without hesitation.

That man sent him to die anyway.

Even thinking his name makes me want to vomit again, but there’s nothing left in my stomach. Nothing left anywhere.

“Sorin, please ”

“I want to forget,” I hear myself say. My voice sounds far away, like it’s coming from someone else. “I want to forget everything.”

Everything.

The balcony. The argument. Alaric’s face in the moonlight.

The visits to Woodridge. The laughter. The way he used to ruffle my hair and call me “little wolf” like it was an endearment instead of an insult.

The Imperial Pack. Their connection to us. The fact that we were supposed to be family.

All of it.

My mind can’t handle the contradiction–can’t hold both the memory of the boy I cared about and the boy who killed my father in the same space. So it does the only thing it can.

It shuts down. Closes that door and locks it and throws away the key, burying everything so deep I won’t find it again for ten years.

I forget the balcony. Forget the argument. Forget the face of the boy who killed my father.

I forget him.

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Chapter 92

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I forget that we ever had ties to the Imperial Pack at all, that Alaric and I grew up together, that our fathers were best friends who saved each other’s lives.

Because a thirteen–year–old girl can’t survive knowing that the person she loved–the person her father loved -is the reason her entire world ended.

So I don’t know.

For ten years, I don’t know.

Until tonight.

“STOP!”

I’m screaming now, clutching my head with both hands like I can physically hold my skull together. The memories are crashing in too fast, too sharp, each one a knife between the ribs.

“Stop talking!”

But Camilla just keeps going, her voice cutting through my hysteria with surgical precision. “It was his fault your father died, Sorin. His fault. He’s just using the throne to keep you close. To make himself feel better about what he did. You’re not his equal–you’re his fucking penance.”

“SHUT UP!”

My voice breaks on the words, raw and desperate, but she’s already said what she came to say. Already planted the poison that’s going to kill everything.

“You have a choice, Sorin.”

The rain is pouring harder now, soaking through everything, and through my tears and the water streaming down my face I can barely see her. Just a dark silhouette against the city lights.

“You can stay,” she says softly. “Keep playing queen to the man who murdered your father. Or you can leave. Choose yourself for once.”

Then she’s gone.

Just like that. She turns and walks away as if she didn’t just detonate a bomb in the center of my chest.

I don’t move,

Can’t move.

The rain pounds against the concrete, and somewhere in the distance I can hear the ocean–people laughing, life continuing like mine isn’t currently ending on this fucking rooftop.

Eventually, I stand.

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Chapter 92

My legs are shaking, but they hold. Barely.

I walk to the edge.

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Thirty minutes must have passed. Maybe more. Time feels meaningless when you’re trying to decide whether to keep existing.

The rooftop edge is closer than I remember. Just a few steps away. Then nothing but air and gravity and the the beach lights below that suddenly look very far away.

I sit down first. Let my legs dangle over the side.

It’s almost peaceful up here, in a fucked–up kind of way. Just me and the rain and the drop that would solve everything.

If I jumped, I think distantly, I’d be with Dad again.

The only person in this world who ever actually gave a shit about me. Not because of what I could do for him, or what position I could secure, or how I could advance his political agenda. Just… because I was his daughter.

Wade used me until I wasn’t useful anymore. Emma, my personal maid, died saving me. I don’t know where my mother is.

And Alaric …

Goddess, Alaric.

The person I’m supposed to trust most in the entire fucking world. My mate. My soulmate. The one the universe supposedly chose for me.

Turns out the universe has a sick sense of humor.

I laugh, and it comes out broken. Empty.

Behind me, the rooftop door slams open.

“Sorin where are–darling, what are you doing?”

Alaric’s voice cuts through the rain, and I don’t turn around. Can’t. If I look at him–if I see his face–1 might break completely.

Or worse, I might forgive him.

“Come away from the edge.” His voice is careful. Controlled. The tone you use with a scared animal or a drunk person who might do something stupid. “It’s dangerous there.”

I almost laugh again. Dangerous. Right. Because the fall is what I should be worried about.

“Sorin.” Closer now. I can hear his footsteps, slow and measured. “Talk to me. Whatever Camilla said-”

“How high do you think this building is?” I scream.

His footsteps stop.

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“I don’t know,” he says carefully. “Fifteen stories? Sweetheart, please, just come back inside and we can-

“Fifteen stories,” I muse, swinging my legs slightly. The movement makes my stomach drop, but I don’t pull back. “That’s probably enough, right? I mean, I’d definitely die. No coming back from that?

“Darling, pleade.” His voice sharpens, panic bleeding through the control. “Stop”

I stand up.

The world tilts, and for a second I think I might fall accidentally, which would be hilarious in the worst possible way. But I catch my balance, arms spreading wide like I’m about to embrace the entire city below

“SORIN, NO!” .

“I want to die, Your Highness,” I say, and my voice sounds weirdly calm. Detached. Like I’m talking about someone else’s death instead of my own. “Did you know that? I want to die

“Don’t–fuck–don’t move, okay? Just stay there, stay right there—”

“I thought I had a purpose, you know?” The words keep coming, spilling out like blood from a wound I can’t close. “Serve my family. Serve Wade. Avenge my father. But it turns out I’m shit at all of it. Wade threw me away. The family’s dead. And Dad…”

My voice cracks. A tear slips down my face, mixing with the rain.

His death was your fault.

I smile.

It feels wrong on my face–cracked and broken and not at all like what a smile should be–but I do it anyway. One last smile before it all ends.

“So yeah,” I say softly, “I’m done. I don’t have anything left.”

Then I close my eyes.

Spread my arms wider.

And let myself fall backward.

For one perfect, weightless second, there’s nothing. No rain, no pain, no memories. Just air and gravity and the promise of an ending.

Then-

Impact.

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But not the ground. Something solid and warm and alive, arms locking around me as iron bands as we both crash onto the rooftop. The air punches out of my lungs and we’re sliding on the rain–slick concrete, and he’s got me, he’s got me, one hand fisted in my soaked shirt and the other around my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

“You’re not dying,” Alaric snarls against my ear, his voice ragged and furious and terrified. “You’re not fucking dying without my permission.”

We hit the ground hard, him taking the brunt of it, me crushed against his chest as he wraps himself around me like a shield. The rain pounds down on both of us, and he’s holding me so tight I can barely breathe, can barely think, can barely do anything except feel his heart hammering against my back.

“You’re not dying,” he repeats, and it sounds like a prayer and a threat all at once. “You’re not dying.”

For a second–one single, horrible second–I almost believe him. Almost let myself sink into the warmth of his arms, into the familiar safety of his presence, into the lie that everything might somehow be okay.

But then the numbness slams back down.

Cold. Final. Absolute.

Because he can save me from the fall, but he can’t save me from the truth.

He killed my father.

And I can’t–I can’t-

We’re both on the ground now, soaked through, his arms still locked around me like I’m something precious instead of something broken. The rain is starting to slow, turning from a downpour to a steady drizzle, and somewhere in the distance I can hear sirens.

But all I can feel is the decision crystallizing in my chest.

I’m leaving.

I don’t say it out loud. Don’t move. Don’t give any indication that I’ve just made the most important choice of my life.

I just lie there in Alaric’s arms, numb and empty and already gone, while he holds me like he can somehow keep me from shattering into pieces.

Too late, I think distantly.

Too fucking late.