The Hybrid, The Prince, & I

NIKOLAI VOLKOV

I found her exactly how I never wanted to—naked, bleeding, and already broken.

We pulled her out of a slave pit near Santarém—half-starved, feral, and covered in whatever filth clings to the bottom of underground cages. She was five minutes from being sold to some sick b*st*rd who thought he was buying a mythborn relic.

She fought like an animal. Bit one of mine, clawed another. I had to put her down—hard.

That was nine hours ago. She's still out. Still stinking.

And someone—some idiot—had wrapped her in Starborne silk. Our most sacred f*ck*ng duvet. Generational thread, blessed by the twins, meant for kings.

Now it smelled like *ss.

I sat across from her, elbows on my knees, hands clasped so tight the bones popped.

Two centuries alive, and it all came down to this—one moment. One girl.

I expected a boy cloaked in power... a weapon. Something with teeth.

What I got was a girl with blistered feet, bones jutting beneath a stained tunic, and hair like forest rot. Faint healing runes glowed on her collarbone.

And beneath all of it… nothing.

No scent. No pack signature. No trace of a wolf.

But the talisman around my neck—old as the mountain and twice as stubborn—burned every time I looked at her.

It had glowed like fire the second she hit the auction floor. Blazed when she tried to run.

I wanted to believe it was wrong.

I needed to believe it.

Because if this girl was truly the key—the one who could unlock the vault under Starborne—then every soul I'd bled, every alliance I shattered, every enemy I kissed before I sl*t their throat… was just a prelude to something darker.

“She's healing slower than I thought,” said Isaac from behind, leaning on the steel wall of the jet.

“She'll live.”

That was all I needed. Her survival. Her existence.

Everything else could rot.

She shifted. Barely. Just a flicker. Her brow knit, lashes fluttering. Lips parted like a question was trying to claw its way out of her throat.

The talisman burned against my chest.

And then—her eyes opened.

Honeyed amber. Red on the edges. Glassy. And locked on me like she knew exactly what I was.

Or worse—what I'd done.

Her voice was barely there, cracked and raw as broken stone. “You—”

“Yes.”

Her mouth twitched, like she might scream. Or spit. Or sob. Instead, she tried to rise—twice. Failed once. Made it on the second go. Her breath hitched. Eyes flicked over the velvet-dark jet interior.

“Where… where am I?”

“Thirty-five thousand feet above your last mistake,” Isaac answered, unmoving from the side wall. “Give or take.”

Her tongue swept over a cracked lip, swiping the blooming blood.

“That's not an answer. What is this place? Where are you taking me?”

“To the north.”

She stilled like a triggered trap.

“I was free. I had a plan. I was getting out. I was finally going to—”

“You wouldn't have made it far.”

Her eyes snapped toward me. “I would've if you hadn't shown up.”

“You had a plan to die.”

She chuckled. Hollow sound. One that belonged in the mouth of someone already half-dead.

“Death would've been better than being stuck in another cage. This one just flies higher, doesn't it?”

Isaac took a step forward. “Show some respect, omega. The Alpha rescued you.”

She turned toward him—not fast, not startled. Slow. Measured. Like someone who'd been bitten enough times to stop flinching.

“I'd be grateful if your Alpha had left me where I was.”

Then her eyes cut to me. And stayed there.

“But he didn't. Which means he wants something. They always do.”

My jaw ticked. “You're that sure I want anything?”

“You don't deny it.”

She was baiting me. Smart girl.

I didn't answer. Didn't shift.

Silence is a weapon. And I had enough to make her bleed.

She cocked her head. A mock smile curled on her lips. “Tell me… what would a royal hybrid possibly want from someone like me?”

That caught my attention.

“You know what I am?”

“Oh, please. Your reputation got here before you did. You're the bedtime story they use to make the monsters behave. The Boogeyman with a crown. Apex predator. Death in a tailored coat. Honestly?” She gave a tired shrug. “I expected better.”

I didn't flinch. Let her spit her poison. Let her watch it slide right off me.

“Your name.”

She didn't move.

Didn't even blink.

Just met my gaze with a chin tilted too high for someone covered in bruises.

I pressed. “Your. Name.”

A twitch in her jaw. The flicker of restraint. She bit down on her tongue—hard. Copper tinted the air.

“Keira.”

“Keira, what?”

I waited. Nothing.

Mouth shut. Eyes defiant.

So, I leaned in. “Keira. What.”

She jerked like the name struck her across the face. Turned her head away, one cut reopening along her cheek. She s*ck*d in a sharp breath through her teeth.

“Quit using your Alpha tone. You want answers? Ask like a person. Not a goddamn incantation.”

“If you answered, I wouldn't have to use it.”

Her smile was jagged. Bitter. “Orphans don't have last names.”

A lie.

Too neat. Too rehearsed.

I let it hang. Didn't call her out. If she were rootless, she was mine to anchor. If she was lying—good. I liked the broken ones better.

Less repair. More control.

She was going to speak again—I asked first.

“Why run if you had nowhere to go?”

“Because dying on my feet is freer than living on my knees. And you—” she dragged her eyes over me— “you reek of leash.”

“How long were you caged?”

That hit.

The shield cracked.

Her breath stilled.

“Long enough to stop counting. Long enough to stop begging. That's what you're really asking, right? When did I stop believing? About a hundred men ago. You want a number? Fine. Hundred and one. Add yourself.”

Isaac growled, but I cut in before the words spilled. “Leave us.”

He hesitated.

I didn't repeat myself.

The hiss of the door sealed the quiet.

She was shaking now. Not from fear. From the sheer effort of holding herself upright.

She looked at me like I'd already chosen her verdict.

“You're going to touch me now, aren't you?”

“Is that what you think I came for?”

Her mouth parted. She didn't speak. She just looked at me like she was choosing which version of me she could survive—because she knew she wouldn't survive all of them.

“Isn't it always...?” she whispered. “Men like you don't drag half their army through frostbitten mountains for a girl like me unless it ends with chains or your c*ck. Or both.”

I leaned forward.

Her shoulders twitched. Not a flinch. A preparation.

“If I wanted you... You'd be naked, Keira. Not throwing tantrums.”

Her throat worked, that little movement too loud in the stillness.

“But I don't f*ck scraps. And I never take what doesn't offer itself. Especially when it looks like you.”

Her eyes snapped up to mine like I'd cracked something open in her.

And maybe I had.

The talisman against my heart pulsed once—like the heartbeat I didn't need, reacting to her. To this.

“What else would a monster like you want from someone like me?” she asked, voice a whisper meant to cut.

“Your blood.”

“Why?”

I let her rot in the silence. Let her spiral in it.

Because the truth spoken too early has no weight.

Her voice shook when it came again, trying to bite, trying to wound. “Of course. That's all I am to people like you. Blood. Bone. Obedience. So what is it this time, huh? You want a souvenir before I rot? Or maybe you think drinking me will fix whatever half-breed monster your parents stitched together?”

She was spiraling now. Shaking with fury.

“You know what's funny? They called me a stain. A mistake. Said I shouldn't have been born. But you—” She laughed once, the sound fractured, unhinged. “You were the real abomination, weren't you?”

Still, I didn't speak. Still, I watched.

“Half wolf. Half vampire. No soul. No tribe. Just a beast in a suit with better posture.”

I stood.

The cabin narrowed. Every breath felt louder. Every second longer.

I took one step toward her.

She didn't cower.

She watched.

Her fists clenched tighter into the duvet like it was the only armor left in the world.

I reached up, index finger curling as the claw unsheathed with a slow, metallic click. Then—clean, deliberate—I dragged it down her cheek. Not enough to scar. Just enough for a single drop to bloom, bright and defiant.

She gasped.

Didn't scream.

I crouched down, lowering until we shared air. Until there was nothing between us but heat and breath and hate.

“If you think this is suffering, then by all means—keep talking. I have vampire medics who make agony into art. You'd be their Sistine Chapel.”

Her jaw twitched.

I let my knuckle graze her bleeding cheek—barely a touch, but she felt it like fire.

“They'll keep you alive while you die screaming. Every night. For years. So, unless you want to learn pain from the inside out…”

I leaned closer.

“…open your mouth only to apologize.”

Then—footsteps.

Isaac appeared at the cockpit's edge.

“We're landing in five, Alpha.”

I didn't take my eyes off her.

“Good. The moment we touch down, call the Shaman. The girl gets tested before the moon rises.”

Her pulse thundered. I heard it. Felt it.

“Test me?” Her voice cracked. Then louder, shriller— “Test me for what, you goddamn freaks?!”

“Alpha—”

“Sedate her.”

He froze.

I turned my head. One look was enough.

“Now.”

She surged back against the seat, eyes wide. “Don't touch me! Don't you f*ck*ng dare—!”

Isaac was trained to handle brats like her. In the next moment, the needle sank into her arm with precision.

She stiffened. Shuddered.

“Bastards,” she rasped. “You're all f*ck*ng bastards…”

Her lids fluttered, body slumping, breath hitching once—then twice.

I stood over her again, towering as she finally gave in to the drug.

This fragile, furious thing was mine now.

A key.

A weapon.

The Convergence was coming. And her blood would be the first sacrifice.

KEIRA

Death had a strange way of stalling.

It didn't roar in like thunder or whisper like a lullaby. It paused, as if the universe itself held its breath, waiting to see if I'd go quietly.

I didn't.

Something cold pressed against my palm. It dragged me back to consciousness in one brutal snap. No gentle awakening. No light at the end of the tunnel. Just pain, raw and jagged, clawing through my spine like it had been waiting for this very moment to strike.

My eyes flew open.

A room bathed in flickering candlelight, shadows dancing like ghosts on stone walls. Gold shimmered. Incense hung heavy in the air, too sweet, too thick. And towering above me...

A woman. Robed in gold, like she'd stitched her clothes from sunlight and delusion.

And in her hand—A knife.

Not steel. No, worse. Bone-white and gleaming like moonlit ivory, veined in silver that pulsed faintly like it had