Rewriting Her Destiny With The Lycan Kings

Zara held her breath as she stood frozen outside the study. The angry, tearful voice continued to echo from within, each word sharper than the last.

"She's a weak, pathetic human," the woman cried, her voice trembling with both fury and despair.

"She can never be a rightful Luna queen. You're making the gravest mistake of your lives by choosing her."

Zara's fingers tightened into a fist as the words struck her. Who was this woman, and why was she so intent on disparaging her?

"I will not let another woman take my place," the woman continued, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face.

"I swear, I'll kill her myself if I have to. You'll see—she isn't worthy of you."

Inside the study, Denzel and Devonte sat in their high-backed chairs, their expressions stoic and unreadable. The woman before them was Jennifer Wilson, the late Beta's daughter. She stood trembling, her rage and desperation boiling over.

"I love you both," Jennifer yelled, her voice laced with anguish.

"I've always loved you. My father gave his life for you, and I've been here by your side ever since. I've proven my loyalty to you a thousand times over. How can you throw me away for her? For some weak, insignificant human?"

Denzel exchanged a glance with Devonte, who looked equally bored with Jennifer's tantrum. They had dealt with her outbursts countless times, but this time, she had crossed a line.

"Enough," Denzel said, his deep voice slicing through her tirade like a blade. He seemed to be so pissed off with her words.

Jennifer froze, her tearful eyes widening.

"You're speaking about our mate," Denzel continued, his tone calm but laced with a dangerous edge.

"I suggest you watch the words you choose next, Jennifer. Insulting her is the same as insulting us."

Jennifer's lips quivered, but the fire in her eyes didn't wane.

"She's not your equal," she spat.

"She can't lead this pack. She can't even protect herself, let alone an entire kingdom. You're making a mistake—"

"She's our mate," Devonte interrupted coldly, his gaze sharp as a blade, ready to slice her.

"And we will not tolerate your disrespect any longer."

Jennifer's eyes darted between the brothers, desperation creeping into her voice.

"I... I didn't mean—please, don't do this. Break the bond. You don't need her—"

Denzel stood abruptly, the sheer force of his presence making Jennifer take a step back.

"Jennifer," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You've lived in this palace out of respect for your father's sacrifice. But let me make one thing clear—our patience is not limitless. If you continue with this behavior, we will not overlook it again. Not for your father, and certainly not for you."

Jennifer's breath hitched, her defiance wavering under Denzel's piercing gaze.

"This is your last warning," Devonte added, his voice equally icy.

"Step out of line again, and we will ensure you regret it."

Jennifer's shoulders sagged, her face crumbling as tears spilled over. She looked between the two brothers, hoping for some sign of softness, some hint of affection—but there was none.

Her lips trembled as she finally whispered, "You're making a mistake," before turning on her heel and storming out of the room.

Zara quickly stepped back, pressing herself against the wall as Jennifer burst out of the study, her tear-streaked face twisted with fury. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Jennifer's gaze was venomous, filled with hatred and resentment, but she said nothing. She simply marched past Zara, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Zara stood there, her heart pounding. The words she had overheard swirled in her mind—words meant to diminish her, to question her place here. She swallowed hard, unsure of whether to feel anger or sadness.

Inside the study, the brothers sat in silence for a moment. Devonte leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

"She's becoming a problem," he said.

"She's been a problem for years," Denzel replied, his tone dismissive.

"But she knows her place now—or she will soon enough."

Devonte's gaze flickered toward the door.

"You think she overheard?"

Denzel shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. She'll find out eventually that she's untouchable."

"Zara?" Devonte asked, his voice softening slightly.

Denzel nodded, a small, protective smile tugging at his lips. "Our mate. Our queen."

Zara took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She couldn't let Jennifer's words define her—or let the fear creeping into her heart take hold.

She had to prove, not just to herself but to everyone, that she was worthy. She couldn't let them think of her in a very low way.

With that thought, she straightened her shoulders and stepped into the study. Her steps were steady despite the storm raging inside her. She knew they were aware of her presence before she had even knocked; the air crackled with the subtle intensity of their awareness. Still, she pretended not to notice their quiet acknowledgment, just as they pretended to be caught off guard by her sudden entrance.

The Lycan brothers sat at their massive oak desk, the light from the fireplace casting shadows across their sharp, regal features. They looked at her with calm, unreadable expressions, as though Jennifer's outburst mere moments ago had never occurred.

"Zara," Denzel greeted, his deep voice smooth and deliberate.

"Is there something you wish to discuss?"

She inhaled deeply, grounding herself. This was her moment—not to accuse, not to demand, but to prove she deserved to stand beside them.

"Yes," she said, her voice steady but firm.

"I overheard everything."

Both brothers raised a brow, feigning mild surprise, though their instincts had already told them she'd been there.

Denzel leaned back slightly, studying her. "I see. And what are your thoughts on Jennifer's opinions?"

She held her chin high, her gaze unwavering.

"It doesn't matter what she thinks of me. I never care about what others think of me. But she's not entirely wrong."

That caught them off guard. Devonte's sharp gaze narrowed slightly, his body tensing.

"Explain."

"I know I'm in danger because of the bond," Zara began, her voice calm but resolute.

"By becoming your mate, I've attracted enemies—powerful ones. Jennifer isn't the only one who thinks I'm weak or unworthy. And if I'm honest, right now, I probably am."

A flicker of shock passed through their eyes, though they masked it quickly.

"But," she continued, taking a step closer, "I don't want to remain that way. I refuse to be the kind of Luna who hides behind her kings. I don't want to be a burden you have to protect every time danger comes our way. I want to be a strong Luna queen this kingdom deserves. Someone who can stand by your side, not behind you."

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of her words settling between them. The brothers exchanged a glance, their usual composure cracking ever so slightly under the surprise of her proposal.

"And how do you propose to achieve that?" Denzel asked, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity.

She squared her shoulders, her determination radiating.

"Train me. Teach me how to fight. Teach me every tactic, every strategy you've mastered. I want to know how to defend myself and this kingdom. I want to become the Luna this pack—and this realm—deserves."

Devonte blinked, genuinely taken aback. "You want us to train you? To fight?"

"Yes," she replied firmly.

"I know it won't be easy. I know it will hurt. But I'm ready. I don't care how hard it is—if I'm to be your mate, I need to be worthy of it. I need to be strong enough to face the challenges that come with being your queen."

The brothers were silent, their minds racing. They had anticipated anger, perhaps even tears, but not this. Her resolve, her courage—it was unexpected, and it stirred something deep within them.

Finally, Denzel leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he studied her intently.

"You understand what you're asking, don't you?" he said, his voice low.

"Training isn't just about learning to fight. It's grueling. Painful. It will push you to your limits—and then beyond them."

"I understand," Zara replied without hesitation. "And I'm ready."

Devonte leaned back, exhaling as he ran a hand through his hair. "You're full of surprises, Zara," he murmured, a faint hint of admiration in his voice.

Denzel stood, his towering frame exuding authority.

"Very well. If this is what you want, we'll train you. But understand this—once we begin, there's no turning back."

"I won't turn back," she said, her voice steady.

Devonte rose to his feet as well, his green eyes locking onto hers.

"Then prepare yourself. Tomorrow, at dawn, your training begins."

Zara nodded, a flicker of anticipation and determination lighting her eyes.

As she turned to leave, Denzel called after her, his voice softer this time.

"Zara."

She paused, glancing over her shoulder.

"We've always known you're worthy," he said, his tone firm yet gentle. "But if this is what you need to prove it to yourself, then we'll ensure you succeed."

Zara's lips curved into a faint smile before she left the room, her resolve stronger than ever.

Once the door closed behind her, Devonte crossed his arms, glancing at his brother. "She's not what we expected."

"No," Denzel agreed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"She's much more."