Fated To The Immortal Lycan

Annalise’s heart had always been full of love. Though her parents had passed when she was still a child, her grandparents never let her forget how deeply they’d loved each other. It made her believe love was the most beautiful thing in the world.

But that belief shattered the moment she stood in the doorway of her bedroom on her twenty-first birthday.

Her expression crumpled as she took in the scene: her fiancé and her best friend tangled together on the bed, kissing like she didn’t exist.

With numb fingers, she pushed the door all the way open. Disbelief and hurt warred across her face.

Elijah and Pauline scrambled apart, eyes wide.

Pauline clutched at her half-buttoned blouse. “Anna—wait, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Seriously?” Annalise’s voice cracked. “That’s what you’re going with?”

Pauline turned to Elijah, panicked. “I—just let me explain.”

“Baby, come on,” Elijah said, stepping forward. “Just hear her out.”

“No.” Annalise backed away, eyes brimming. “I trusted you, Elijah. My family trusted you. My grandparents adored you.” Her voice wavered. “They don’t know about this, do they?”

Elijah’s face darkened. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re upset. Let’s calm down and talk—”

He reached for her arm, but she shoved him hard.

“Don’t touch me!” she snapped. “You two are disgusting. I hope you both rot in hell.”

“Really?” Elijah muttered. Then, to her horror, he pulled a gun from under a cushion.

Pauline gasped. “Elijah! What the hell are you doing?!”

He didn’t look at her. “She brought this on herself. She’s always judging me. Acting like she’s perfect. Like she’s some damn goddess just because she’s got a pretty face and a mountain of inheritance.” His grip tightened on the gun. “You think you’re better than me because you’re the heiress to the Rivers Crest Foundation? You can’t even forgive a small mistake.”

Annalise stared at him, frozen. “A small mistake? You think this is a small mistake?”

Their eyes locked. The air thickened with tension.

For a moment, something flickered in Elijah’s gaze—hesitation, maybe—but Pauline stepped between them.

“Elijah’s right. Talking to you is a waste of time.” Her voice turned sharp. “You should’ve figured it out. Elijah doesn’t love you. I don’t either. No one does. People pretend because of your last name.”

Annalise felt the blow like a slap. Her hands trembled, her thoughts spiraling. She had loved them—both of them—like family. Like blood.

Pauline’s expression hardened. “You’ve got three choices. One: marry him like nothing happened. Two: hand over your assets and disappear. Or three…” She smiled coldly. “Die. Right here. Right now.”

She stepped closer. “So, what’s it going to be, Anna?”

Before Annalise could answer, a knock sounded from the hallway.

“Young Madam?” a voice called. “This is Carmen. Your grandparents are asking for you. They’re in the main hall. Five minutes.”

Elijah pressed the barrel of the gun to her back.

Annalise forced her voice steady. “Carmen, tell them… I’ll be there soon.”

“Yes, Young Madam.” Footsteps retreated down the hall.

The second they looked away, Annalise bolted.

She tore out of the room, sprinting down the corridor. Her heart pounded in her ears.

Outside, the garden lights glowed, music from the party still playing in the distance. She spotted a pickup truck parked nearby.

“Come on, come on…” she whispered, fumbling with the ignition.

The engine sputtered… then roared to life.

“There!” a man shouted.

“Check every car! Don’t let her get away!”

In the mirror, three men in black suits sprinted toward her. Elijah was right behind them, eyes blazing.

Annalise slammed her foot on the gas. The tires screeched as the truck lurched forward.

But her relief didn’t last.

A black sedan appeared in the rearview mirror, closing the distance fast.

“Damn it!” she hissed, pressing the pedal harder.

Then her eyes dropped to the fuel gauge.

Empty.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Panic surged. She swerved the truck to the side of the road, slammed on the brakes, and flung the door open. She jumped out, hitting the ground hard and scraping her foot.

Gritting her teeth, she tore the bottom of her gown and took off barefoot into the forest.

Branches slashed at her skin. Her breath came in sharp bursts, but she didn’t stop running.

Somewhere deeper in the woods, she collapsed behind a thick tree, clutching her foot.

Voices echoed through the trees.

“Annalise!” Elijah called. “We know you’re here!”

“Don’t make this harder,” another man said. “No one’s going to believe your story anyway.”

Then Pauline’s voice, cold and cruel: “Just give up. You’re not special. You’ve got no one.”

Annalise pressed her hand over her mouth, fighting the sobs.

Above her, the moon shone through the leaves. And beyond that—something faint. A light. A house? A tower?

It was far. But it was something.

She pushed herself up and limped toward it.

The shouts behind her grew louder.

“She went this way!”

“Wait—isn’t that the cursed mountain?”

“So what? Orders were clear. Bring her back. Dead or alive.”

Annalise’s breath hitched.

They meant every word.

She ran harder, crossing the old bridge leading into the mountain. Fog curled around her feet, but she didn’t dare look back.

At last, she reached a tall house tucked into the mist, perched at the mountain’s edge beside a roaring waterfall.

Chest heaving, barefoot and bleeding, Annalise stumbled to the door.

This was her only shot.

And she wasn’t going to give up.

. . .

Annalise stepped further into the house, her footsteps echoing faintly in the stillness. The silence was unsettling—no creaks, no ticking clock, not even the hum of electricity.

“Hello?” she called out, voice barely above a whisper. “Is someone here?”

No answer. Just the faint sound of wind brushing against the windows.

She hesitated, brushing her fingers along the wall. “I—I’m sorry for barging in. I just need a place to stay… just for tonight.”

Still, nothing.

The house was pristine. Not a trace of dust, not a single item out of place. Everything looked lived-in but untouched, as if time had paused. It was too perfect that it felt odd.

Annalise stepped forward, arms wrapped around herself. “I won’t touch anything. I promise. I just need to rest.”

Pain throbbed in her foot. She crouched down and tore a strip from the hem of her dress, wrapping it tightly around the cut. She winced, tying it off, then leaned back against the wall with a heavy sigh.

Moonlight spilled through the window, casting a soft glow across the floor and her bruised, weary face. She gave a dry, bitter chuckle.

“Happy birthday, Annalise,” she murmured.

Twenty-one. And this was how she welcomed it—catching her fiancé tangled up with her best friend. Then finding out they were willing to kill her just to keep their secret.

But she escaped. She was still breathing. That had to count for something.

Curling up on the floor, she drew her knees to her chest. Fear and exhaustion dragged at her until her eyes finally closed.

. . .

By morning, the moonlight had faded, replaced by soft streaks of sunlight slipping through the window. Annalise stirred, blinking against the light as memories from the night before surged back.

It hadn’t been a nightmare.

She pushed herself upright and looked around. She couldn’t stay much longer. The longer she remained, the more likely they’d find her.

She had just stood up when she heard a rusting sound and water tricking over rocks outside.

Her breath caught.

Quietly, she crept to the window and peeked out, heart thudding.

Was it Elijah’s men? Had they crossed the bridge?

A flash of white darted through the garden, too quick for a person.

She blinked. Not a threat. An animal.

A small creature zipped between the flowers—fur white, body sleek.

A ferret?

Stepping closer to the glass, Annalise took in the scene outside.

In the daylight, the garden looked nothing like the eerie shadows of the night before. It was vibrant with bursts of color blooming along cobblestone paths, vines dancing near a glistening waterfall. Everything was alive and bright.

“This place… it’s not abandoned,” she breathed.

It was cared for, recently, too.

Which meant someone lived here. She needed to leave—now.

She turned and moved toward the front of the house, guilt nagging her. “I’ll clean the carpet later,” she muttered. “Just… don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

Then came another rustle from the window.

She turned just in time to see the ferret again, hopping across the grass.

It came right up to the window and tapped on the glass with its paw.

“Trying to get in?” she asked softly. She looked around. Every door was closed. “Don’t you live here?”

Worried it might damage something, she hurried outside.

“Sorry, buddy. The owner’s not around, and I shouldn’t be here either.”

The ferret tilted its head, staring up at her without moving.

She smiled. “You’re pretty cute, you know that?”

She reached out, but the creature darted past her—straight through the open door.

“Wait—hey! You can’t go in there!”

She chased after it, heart racing. “Stop! You’ll get us both in trouble!”

The ferret shot through the hallway and up the stairs like a streak of light.

“Come back!” she yelled, taking the stairs two at a time.

At the top, it paused, just silently watching her. Then it turned and darted toward a pair of tall double doors at the end of the hall.

The doors were beautiful - ornate, old, with dark wood and inlaid gems glinting in the light. She reached out, expecting resistance, but they creaked open with ease.

Inside was a quiet, grand room. At its center, the ferret sat calmly on a circular rug, as if it had brought her here on purpose.

“Okay, time to go,” she whispered, inching forward. “Let’s get out before someone sees us.”

She had just taken a step, prompted to turn around back to the exit when her gaze caught a sight. There, at the center, a man lay in the large bed across the room.

His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and steady. Still as stone, except for the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

Annalise froze.

Someone did live here.

And now… she had just walked right into his room.