Alpha's Regret: Marked By The Lycan King

Third POV

Mason shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. “Actually, I received some intel an hour ago,” he said. “Someone spotted Cyril heading towards Blackmoon territory.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Zayne’s grip tightened on the documents in his hands.

“He might be there to look for Estelle,” Mason continued carefully.

Zayne’s jaw clenched. “What makes you think that?”

Mason rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, Cyril has been trying to weasel more information out of me regarding Estelle lately. He’s been asking pointed questions about her background, her current situation, even details about your arrangement with her.”

“And you told him what exactly?”

“Nothing specific,” Mason said quickly. “But the old man is persistent. It seems like he’s decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Zayne stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He sighed. “Cyril... That busybody.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Push back my entire schedule for today,” Zayne commanded. “I’m headed to Blackmoon.”

“All of it? Even the council meeting this evening?”

“All of it.” Zayne was already reaching for his jacket. “And Mason?”

Mason gulped. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I think you need to stop having drinks with Cyril. It’s starting to loosen your lips.”

***

Estelle’s POV

I stared at Cyril in complete confusion. “You want me to try on this dress?”

The wedding gown hung before us like something from a fairy tale. The staff had stepped back respectfully, giving us space to talk.

“I heard that you’re about to get married soon,” Cyril explained with a warm smile. “I wanted to gift you this dress as a sign of goodwill.”

My mind went blank. “I can’t possibly accept such an expensive gift.”

“Please consider it as a gesture to solidify our two packs’ partnership and friendship,” he insisted.

I frowned slightly. I hadn’t revealed to anyone that I was engaged. The only people who knew about my arrangement with Zayne were Zayne himself, Killian, and Caleb. An outsider like Cyril shouldn’t know this.

Cyril chuckled. “Killian mentioned that you were about to get married when we spoke earlier,” he said, as though he could already read my thoughts.

I nodded and forced a smile. “I see. In that case, that’s very thoughtful of you. I’m grateful.”

But internally, I remained unconvinced. Something felt off about this explanation. It was unlike Killian to reveal something so personal about me to a stranger.

“Please,” Cyril pressed gently. “Just try it on. I’d love to see how it looks.”

The staff members were already moving forward with eager expressions, clearly hoping for a sale. I felt trapped by politeness and curiosity.

“Alright,” I agreed reluctantly.

Twenty minutes later, I stood before the mirror in complete shock. The dress fit me perfectly. Every curve, every measurement was exactly right. It was as if it had been made specifically for my body.

In the reflection, I could see Cyril behind me. His face was lit up with pure joy, and his eyes seemed suspiciously bright.

“It’s perfect,” he breathed. “Absolutely perfect.”

I turned to face him directly. “Cyril, this is too much. I really can’t accept something this expensive.”

“Please,” his voice grew soft and almost pleading. “Somehow, I feel very close to you, as though you were my own granddaughter. Won’t you indulge this old man?”

The sincerity in his tone made my chest tighten. I’d never had a grandfather figure in my life. The warmth in his eyes reminded me of what I’d always imagined that kind of relationship might feel like.

“If you insist,” I said finally.

Cyril’s smile could have powered the entire boutique.

After I changed back into my regular clothes, we headed to his car. A driver was waiting for us, so we settled into the back seat.

As we pulled away from the boutique, I decided I needed answers.

“Cyril, who are you really?”

He glanced at me with raised eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“The boutique staff addressed you as ‘Councilman,’ or at least they were about to before you stopped them.” I kept my tone conversational but firm. “Retail assistants don’t typically recognize random council members from various packs. It would be impossible to remember every single one. You must be someone more significant.”

Cyril sighed deeply and ran a hand through his grey hair. “You’re very perceptive.”

“So I’m right? You’re a member of the lycan council.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. I am.”

That would explain how he knew that I—or rather, Zayne—was getting married soon.

“The lycan council has been eager about Zayne’s wedding ceremony,” Cyril said. “They want him to find a mate.”

He continued, “As a councilman, I wished to see the future queen for myself. But more than that, I wanted to know who this woman is that has captured Zayne’s attention so completely.”

My heart gave an unexpected flutter. “In that case, can I assume that the godson that you mentioned earlier was Zayne?”

“Yes.”

I nodded understandingly. “I don’t think Zayne is that taken with me. This is more of a practical arrangement for both of us.”

Cyril laughed, a rich sound that filled the car. “My dear, believe what you will. But I’ve known that boy since he was small. I’ve never seen him show this level of interest in anyone.”

“He’s just being responsible about his duties.”

“Zayne is a good man,” Cyril said firmly. “You’ll be happy together.”

I wanted to explain that happiness wasn’t really the goal here, but something in Cyril’s expression stopped me. He looked so hopeful and genuinely pleased about the situation that it felt as though I would be cruel to argue anything more.

“I hope you can forgive me for keeping my identity secret,” he continued. “I was worried I might scare you away if you knew who I really was.”

“I understand,” I said honestly. “Though I appreciate your honesty now.”

Just then, my phone began ringing. I glanced at the screen, and my eyes widened with surprise. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Zayne.

I looked at Cyril, who winced visibly.

“You should probably answer that,” he said quietly.

I swiped to accept the call. “Hello?”

“Estelle.” Zayne’s voice was tense, more clipped than usual. “Where are you?”