Skylar's Pov

They opened the gates like they were doing us a favour.

“Run!” The guard barked. “Or die!”

And just like that, as if we were vermin in a barn being let out for the hawks to feast on.

I stood frozen for a moment, trying to make sense of the madness. Girls screamed, sobbed and one even pissed herself.

Me? I laughed. It was short and sharp and made the girl next to me flinch because that was the moment it hit me. We weren't being released. We were being unleashed like dogs in a den but not the ones doing the biting.

The blood confirmed it with a sickening whistle and an arrow through a girl's back.

She screamed once.

Then silence.

Her blood soaked the soul and every girl around me finally got the message : we were the prey.

And so, we ran.

The trees swallowed us, our feet thudding against dirt and roots, breaths ragged, clothes catching on bark and thorns. I didn't look back. I didn't need to. That scream was enough.

My lungs burned. My heart raced so fast it threatened to burst. But it wasn't just fear keeping me going. It was a memory.

Our mansion is set ablaze. Father lying in a pool of his blood. Mother's words cut short by an axe. Their murderers laughed, wearing the colours of the crown. I didn't survive that night to die like this. Not for some twisted royal game. Not for their fucking amusement.

Not again.

If I make it out of this alive, I swear by the bones of my parents that I'd burn this whole kingdom to ash. And if that included the princes? So be it.

I ducked behind a fallen log, my chest heaving.

Voices carried on the wind - loud, hungry. The crazy prince was near. I could smell his arrogance from here. He was taunting the others, laughing when one tripped.

The bastard was enjoying this.

And me? I was getting damn tired of running.

My fingers curled around a stick. It wasn't much but it'd have to do. I wasn't going down quiet. If I died, someone would lose an eye.

I crept deeper into the woods, feet soft on the moss.

And that's when I felt it.

A presence.

I turned fast and he was there.

Cloaked in shadows, but I could see him. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, eyes dark like a storm. Not hungry like the others. Just watching.

I raised my makeshift weapon. “Don't!”

He didn't move. “Alright. You win. Just ... hear me out.”

“Why?” I bit out. “So you can play the nice prince before putting an arrow in my back like your brother did to that girl?”

“I didn't shoot anyone,” he said.

“That makes you a coward. Not a saint.”

A low whistle cracked through the trees. The crazy prince. He was getting closer.

I turned to run again, but he moved fast grabbing my wrist.

“Wait - stop.”

I turned around, nearly slashing his throat with the stick. He caught it midair.

What the —

We stared at each other for what felt like hours and suddenly something shifted.

The air between us snapped, thick and hot like lightning before a summer storm. My pulse stuttered.

My vision blurred for a second and then I felt it.

The bond.

No. You have got to be kidding me.

Fate didn't just hate me. It wanted to humiliate me.

He felt it too. I saw it in the way his eyes widened just a fraction. The way his body went still, like something ancient inside him had just woken up.

"You can't be…" It came out as whispers.

He nodded, slowly. “I am”

"You're my —" he began.

I cut him off with a glare. "Nope."

He blinked. "What?"

"No. Try again. Wrong girl. You must've bonded with a ghost or something because it sure as hell isn't me."

"You felt it too."

"I felt a lot of things, including nausea. Now back off."

He stepped forward, slow. Not predatory --- curious. Gentle, even. And that's made it worse.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"That's nice. Your brother already did. Arrow through a girl's spine, remember?"

His jaw clenched. I hit a nerve.

But then he softened. "I'm not like them."

"Newsflash, prince. You wear the same crest. That makes you exactly like them."

He looked wounded which shouldn't have made me hesitate, but god's help me, it did.

"You're scared," he murmured.

"No," I spat. "I'm pissed. There's a difference. And if you don't get out of my way, you're going to find out how sharp this stick is."

But he didn't move. Instead, he said softly, "I'm not letting them hurt you. Run."

I froze.

“Run!”

I was stunned. “W… why?”

“Run!” He growled.

“It can't be. You're the worst of them.” I took a step back and ran, confused, tired, angry.

The second I stumbled back back into the arena, a horn blared in the distance.

The hunt was over.

I stood in the arena soaked in blood, not mine surprisingly, dirt and pride.

The crowd gasped when they saw me.

The last girl standing.

The girl who lived.

Klaus looked furious. Rafael looked impressed and Daemon?

He looked like he wanted to drag me out of there, claim me, and set the world on fire for what I'd been through.

And from his throne, the king rose.

His voice echoed across the stone and sand. “You survived. Impressive. I will take you as my slave.”

The crowd cheered.

Daemon didn't.

And I?

I smiled, blood on my teeth.

Because I was now inside their world.

And if fate wanted me to be the mate of a prince, then so be it.

I'd bring this place down from the inside out.

One royal at a fucking time.