Alpha's Regret: Marked By The Lycan King

Third POV

The next day, Asher straightened his tie for the third time as their car pulled up to the lycan territory gates. The massive iron gates gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, flanked by guards in pristine uniforms.

“This is incredible,” Hazel breathed, pressing her face to the window. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the sprawling estate beyond the gates. “I can’t believe we actually got invited to the Werewolf-Lycan Conference.”

Asher nodded absently, his attention focused on scanning the crowds already gathering near the main entrance. Expensive cars lined the circular driveway, their polished surfaces reflecting the grandeur of the lycan royal palace in the distance.

He had spent a considerable sum purchasing this invitation from someone who couldn’t attend. The seller had been desperate for cash, and Asher had been desperate for access. It was worth every penny if it meant finding Estelle.

Except, he had left out this fact when he informed Hazel about it. When she found out that he was headed to lycan territory, he lied and said that he was attending a Werewolf-Lycan Conference. Once she heard that, Hazel insisted on attending.

“Look at all these important people,” Hazel continued, adjusting her emerald dress. “The Alphas of many powerful packs are supposed to be here today. This could really help our pack’s reputation.”

Asher’s hand moved to his jacket pocket, where he kept the photograph of the elderly man his private investigator had taken. This must be Alpha Jude. The image showed a distinguished gentleman with silver hair and kind eyes. Asher was certain this old man had somehow convinced Estelle to become his bride.

The taxi stopped at the entrance, and Asher paid the driver quickly. The moment they stepped out, he was struck by the sheer opulence surrounding them. Men in tailored suits and women in designer gowns moved through the courtyard, their conversations mixing with soft classical music drifting from hidden speakers.

“Are you looking for someone?” Hazel asked, noticing how Asher’s gaze swept constantly over the crowd.

“No one,” he replied curtly, but his eyes never stopped moving. Every dark-haired woman caught his attention, only to disappoint him when she turned around.

A commotion near the main entrance drew everyone’s attention. Cameras flashed as photographers pushed forward, and excited murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Seems like someone important must be arriving,” Hazel said, standing on her tiptoes to get a better view.

A sleek black limousine glided up the driveway, its windows tinted dark. The vehicle was clearly expensive, the kind reserved for only the most prestigious guests. The crowd pressed closer as uniformed attendants approached the car.

The door opened.

A woman stepped out gracefully, her black hair catching the light. She wore an elegant navy dress that hugged her figure perfectly, and even from a distance, her poise commanded attention.

Asher’s breath caught in his throat. His heart hammered against his ribs as recognition slammed into him like a physical blow.

“Estelle!” he called out, his voice cracking with disbelief.

Hazel’s head snapped toward him, her expression immediately darkening. “Are you serious right now?”

But Asher barely heard her. He pushed forward through the crowd, trying to get closer to the woman by the limousine. The photographers were creating a barrier, their cameras clicking rapidly as they captured every angle.

“Estelle!” he shouted again, louder this time.

“Asher!” Hazel grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his sleeve. “We’re finally at a prestigious event like this, and you’re still obsessing over her? This is supposed to be about our pack’s future!”

He tried to shake her off, his eyes locked on the figure near the car. But when he looked again, the woman had vanished into the crowd of officials and attendants.

“I need to see if that was really her,” he said, starting to move forward again.

Hazel yanked him back with surprising strength. “You need to focus on what we came here for! This is the Werewolf-Lycan Conference, not some reunion with your ex-wife!”

“You don’t understand,” Asher snapped, finally turning to face her. His eyes were wild with desperation. “If that was Estelle, then she’s here with that old man. Alpha Jude brought her as his date.”

“Even if that’s true, what exactly do you plan to do about it?” Hazel’s voice rose with frustration. “March over there and demand she come home? In front of all these influential people?”

Asher’s jaw clenched. The rational part of his mind knew Hazel was right, but seeing Estelle—if it had been her—looking so poised and elegant had triggered something primal in him.

“Besides,” Hazel continued, “how did you even get this invitation? I never asked before, but now I’m wondering. How did Moonveil even get invited to an event with all these elites?”

One look around, and Hazel was sure she would recognize no one here. Only the more powerful packs had been invited.

Asher’s eyes darted away from hers. “Does it matter? We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Asher.” Her tone turned dangerous. “How did you get this invitation?”

The silence stretched between them, punctuated by the ongoing chatter of the crowd around them. Finally, Asher’s shoulders slumped slightly.

“I bought it,” he admitted quietly.

“You bought it?” Hazel’s voice climbed higher. “From who?”

“Someone who couldn’t attend. It doesn’t matter—”

“It absolutely matters!” Hazel grabbed his arm again, her face pale with horror. “Asher, if you bought this from someone else, that means we’re not actually invited. That means we’re trespassing!”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, but uncertainty crept into his voice. “Nobody will know.”

“Are you insane?” Hazel’s whisper was sharp with panic. “This is lycan territory! They could kill us for unauthorized entry! We need to leave. Right now!”