Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 225

Chapter 225: Say That Again To My Face

Two men were cutting through Lunaris Keep in parallel.

One was a king looking for the infirmary while the other was a prince looking for a reckoning.

Sterling: This keep really has no security at all. A strike team is sweeping the halls and no one gives a damn.

Ryker: We could literally be assassins.

Two wrong turns. One dead end. Finally, Maddox decided to ask for directions.

First attempt: a stammering, terrified wolf gave directions so fucked that landed them in the kitchen.

Ryker: Should I help or is this too entertaining?

Sterling: Don’t you dare.

Second attempt: a wolf gave crystal clear directions and they ended up in a fucking storage room.

Maddox: This Keep makes no goddamn sense.

Ryker: It’s a rectangle.

Maddox: Say that again and I’ll make you one.

Ryker: ...I don’t even know what that means but I believe the threat.

While Maddox was lost in a gaslighting rectangle, Cassian knew exactly where he was going.

One of those problems was funny.

Neither was aware of the other.

DOMINO 16: THE SUNK COST STRIKES BACK

LUNARIS KEEP - 7:25 PM

Hallway blades. Decorative. Every castle has them.

Tradition, they say. Also the dumbest fucking security feature imaginable if you think about it for even one second.

Genius, really. Especially when your cast-out son is hauling ass down the hallway with zero fucks left to give.

Men with nothing to lose move fast.

Up the stairs. Through the dungeon door. Into a hallway where a mounted blade sat there like a dare, and Cassian had never met a dare he didn’t fuck.

Lungs on fire. Face worse. Every step tore at the scar tissue and he burned that shit the way a furnace burns trash, bodies, and bad decisions.

He ran like the six words still banging around his head might fall behind if he just moved fast enough. They didn’t. So he aimed them forward at the bastard who’d said them.

Ten yards. Eight.

Daddy’s back was a clean straight line, walking like he’d already moved on. Cassian hadn’t. Cassian was just warming the fuck up.

He caught Renwick’s shoulder mid-stride. Full grip. Yanked the bastard around to face him. His blade found his father’s throat before the spin was even halfway done.

Steel on skin. Son versus father. Six inches apart.

Cassian’s burn was close enough for Renwick to smell. Cooked flesh and the metallic ghost of dragon fire. His father breathed it deep and didn’t give a single shit.