4. The dying Wolf

Lucian’ POV

The door slammed behind Cressida with a finality that echoed through my chambers longer than it should have.

How dare she?

The words still burned on my tongue. She had slept in my bed, curled against me like she belonged there, and the very next morning she asked for a favor as if she were anything more than a warm body serving out a contract. As if one night of weakness on my part gave her rights.

I paced the room, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached. No one asked anything of me. Not anymore. Not since Naya. The moment you gave an inch, they took everything. I had learned that lesson in blood.

I stepped out onto the private balcony overlooking the training grounds, needing air. The morning sun felt too bright, too harsh. My chest tightened suddenly, a familiar warning. I gripped the stone railing, but it wasn’t enough. A harsh cough tore from my throat, wet and metallic. Blood splattered across the pale stone bright red against gray.

“Fuck.”

Before I could wipe it away, heavy footsteps approached. My beta, Thorne, appeared at the balcony entrance. His sharp eyes took in the scene in one glance.

Without a word, he pulled a dark cloth from his belt and handed it to me, then positioned himself to block any view from below.

“Again?” he muttered, voice low.

I wiped my mouth and chin, the copper taste lingering. “It’s getting worse.”

Thorne’s face remained impassive, but I saw the tension in his shoulders. “You need to tell someone. Your sister, at least.”

“No.” I straightened, forcing the weakness down where it belonged buried deep inside never to see light. “No one knows. Not yet. Get rid of this.” I shoved the bloodied cloth at him.

He took it without question and helped me back inside, his grip steady on my arm until the dizziness passed. Only when I looked composed did he step back.

“ can you manage to go to the Pack house?” he asked.

I nodded once. Work was the only thing I truly enjoyed and no curse can stop me from doing what I loved.

By the time I reached the main hall of the pack house, the episode had faded to a dull throb behind my ribs. I sat at the head of the long table, reviewing border reports, when the door opened without a knock.

Elara swept in, her dark robes swirling. She was the only person alive who dared enter my presence like that—unannounced and unafraid. Younger by nearly a decade, yet she looked at me as if I were still the reckless boy who used to steal honey cakes with her.

“You absolute fool,” she started without preamble, voice sharp as a blade. “What did you do to that girl?”

I didn’t look up from the parchment. “Which girl?”

“Don’t play ignorant with me, Lucian. Cressida. She was shaking when I found her this morning. You terrified her. After letting her sleep in your bed, no less. Are you trying to make her run? Because if she does, you’ll have to hunt her down again, and we both know how that ends.”

I remained silent, fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

Elara stepped closer, undeterred. “She’s not like the others. I see it. You see it too, or you wouldn’t have let her stay the night. But you crushed her the moment she asked for one small mercy. A trip to town? That’s all it was. And you treated her like she had demanded your crown.”

“She only wanted to get back her necklace from a bitch who stole it. It was her only possession of her mother’s and it meant a lot to her”

Still, I said nothing. But something unfamiliar twisted in my gut. Sharp and unwelcomed Guilt. It had been years since I felt it. The other women in my thirty-day contracts had been transactions. They were merely pleasure for survival and they expected the cruelty which they received squarely. So why did I feel this pang in my chest? Cressida was just like them wasn’t she?

But then I remembered her tentative kiss. The way her body had welcomed mine with genuine hunger. The soft sound of her breathing against my chest as she slept.

Elara’s voice softened, but only slightly. “You’re scaring her away, brother. And for what? To prove you’re still the heartless king? She’s already lost everything because of you. At least let her keep her dignity.”

She waited for a response. When none came, she sighed and turned to leave. “Fix it. Or don’t. But don’t come crying to me when she breaks.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

Regret sat heavy in my chest, mixing with the lingering pain from earlier. I had never felt this for any of the others. Why her? Why now?

I stood abruptly, I had made my decision. I would find this Zara myself. If the necklace mattered that much to Cressida, I would retrieve it. Not as a favor. Not as kindness. I wanted to know if making her happy would do anything to me. I need to know

That night, I did not summon Cressida.

I sat alone in my chambers, staring into the fire, the weight of the day pressing down. Sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her flinch at my words.

The next morning, I rode into town with only Thorne at my side. The slave quarters were a grim, fortified building on the edge of the market district. I ordered Zara brought to a private room alone.

When she entered, her eyes widened with recognition and something else. She was pretty in a sharp, opportunistic way. Immediately, she dropped into a coy pose, letting her ragged dress slip off one shoulder, lips curving into a seductive smile.

“My lord,” she purred, stepping closer. “I didn’t expect the king himself to visit. If you want me for the night, or longer, I can be very… accommodating.”

I ignored the display. “Where is the necklace?”

She blinked, confusion cutting through the seduction. “Necklace?”

“Cressida’s necklace. The one you took from her. Hand it over. Now.”

Zara’s face paled. “I… I don’t—”

I roared, voice echoing off the stone walls. “Where the fuck is Cressida’s necklace? Hand it over now!”

Startled, she stumbled back. Her hands shook as she pushed down the neckline of her dress, revealing a thin chain with a delicate emerald jade pendant resting against her skin the same one Elara had described.

I crossed the room in two strides, grabbed the chain, and yanked it hard. The clasp snapped. Zara cried out as the metal bit into her neck before breaking free.

I shoved her roughly. She stumbled, hitting the floor hard, her stomach slamming against the cold stone. She whimpered, curling in on herself, but I didn’t spare her another glance.

Tucking the necklace into my pocket, I left without another word.

The ride back to the fortress was silent. Thorne didn’t ask questions and I preferred it that way.

Only when I stepped into my private chambers did the weight of what I had done hit me. I stopped in the middle of the room, staring at the necklace now dangling from my fingers. The pendant caught my eye. Simple yet clearly precious to her.

Why had I done that?

I had never interfered in the personal squabbles of my contract women. Never hunted down stolen trinkets. Never felt the urge to right a wrong done to one of them.

What made Cressida different?

The question had barely formed when a sharp, stabbing pain exploded in my chest. My vision blurred. The necklace slipped from my grip, clattering to the floor as my knees buckled. I hit the ground hard, sweat breaking across my skin, breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

Twenty-two more days. That was what the seer had warned. Twenty-two days before my wolf, tortured by the severed mate bond and the endless loneliness, would give up and drag me into death with it. I needed a new bond or I would die.

But was it fair to Naya? My beloved from youth, the one ripped away from me in betrayal and blood. Was it fair to replace her so soon? To let another woman into the hollow space she left behind?

I clenched my teeth against another wave of pain, fingers scraping the stone floor as I reached for the fallen necklace.

Cressida.

Her name echoed in my mind even as darkness edged my vision.

Perhaps the real question wasn’t whether it was fair to Naya.

It was whether I could survive another twenty two days without finding out what this pull toward the fiery she-wolf really meant.