Chapter 41

Lucy.

The bond-breaking ritual was supposed to set me free. Everyone kept saying that. You’ll feel better after, they said. It’s painful, but it gets easier, they promised.

They lied.

I had never known agony like that. It wasn’t just the physical tearing — though that had felt like someone had reached inside and ripped my soul out through my chest — it was the hollowness that followed. 

When I woke up in that bed, slick with sweat, throat raw from screaming, I honestly wished I hadn’t woken up at all.

Elizabeth had been there, eyes red-rimmed, holding a cool cloth to my forehead, whispering soft things I barely registered. Alpha Ellison stood by the door, arms crossed, jaw clenched like he’d take the pain for me if he could. 

“It's very painful.” I whispered once, my voice cracking like glass.

Elizabeth had just taken my hand. “I promise you, with time it would all go away.”

It didn’t make sense, but it helped.

Days passed like water through my fingers. I couldn’t grasp anything — time, emotions, even my own body felt detached. I didn’t leave my room much. I didn’t eat unless someone made me. But on the fifth day, something shifted. Maybe it was the morning light falling across the marble floors of the palace gardens. Or maybe I was just tired of being indoors.

“Come to the garden with me,” I told Elizabeth, surprising even myself with how steady my voice sounded.

She blinked. “Really? Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I need air. I need... something normal.”

So we set up a light lunch near the rose beds. I wore a white sundress I hadn’t touched in months. Elizabeth was dressed in lavender, her long braid swaying as we walked toward the table. The breeze smelled like honeysuckle and new beginnings.

“Feels like we’re sneaking out,” I murmured, smiling faintly as I reached for a cup of lemonade.

Elizabeth laughed. “You’ve been locked in your room like a crypt-keeper. This is practically a rebellion.”

I smiled, genuinely this time, and was just about to take my first bite when a voice startled me.

“May I join you?”

I turned.

Derek.

His golden-brown eyes were soft but unreadable, his smile polite. His presence didn’t rattle me, not like Ethan’s did. But I still froze for a second, unsure of what to say.

Elizabeth arched a brow at me, giving me the choice.

“Sure,” I said finally, gesturing to the empty seat beside me. “We have more than enough.”

The hours passed more easily than I expected. Derek had this light energy, a way of telling stories that made me laugh even when I didn’t want to. He spoke about a patrol wolf who kept chasing squirrels and how Ellison kept pretending not to notice. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, snorting into her drink. 

When the sun dipped lower in the sky, I stretched lazily, my muscles unused to movement.

“I should get back,” I murmured, pushing my chair back.

“I’ll walk you,” Derek offered, already standing.

I glanced at Elizabeth, but she just gave a teasing shrug. “I’ll clean up. You two go. Just don’t let Lucy trip over a rock or something.”

“Not funny,” I muttered, but I was smiling.

As we walked along the garden path, the sky above was streaked in orange and pink, the kind of sunset that made you believe in magic. Derek talked about his training session earlier — something about a new recruit who couldn’t shift properly — and I tried to focus on his words, not the strange twinge in my chest.

I felt it before I saw it.

A prickle. Like needles on my skin.

I glanced up.

Ethan.

He stood on the balcony above us, hands braced on the railing, face carved in stone. Every muscle in his body looked wired, like a coiled spring. But what chilled me wasn’t his stance — it was his eyes.

He wasn’t looking at me.

His gaze was locked on Derek.

Unmoving. Intense. Dangerous.

I faltered for a second in my step, but Derek didn’t seem to notice.

“Lucy?” he asked, turning to look at me.

I shook my head quickly. “Nothing. Let’s keep walking.”

But even as I spoke, I could still feel Ethan’s gaze burning into us like a brand. I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t like it.

Later that night, sleep refused to come. My room felt too small. The silence too loud.

So I left.

I wandered the palace halls, barefoot, until I found myself drawn toward the pack’s amusement park — a private retreat that sat on the far edge of the territory. It was closed for the night, but I had access. I just needed to sit somewhere high and look at the sky. Maybe the stars could fill the aching void inside me.

I climbed to the top of the tallest ride — the Ferris wheel wasn’t running, but the platform at its base offered a beautiful view. I sat there for what felt like hours, just watching the constellations shift above me. I imagined they were stories waiting to be written. That I was still someone worth writing about.

When I finally stood to leave, I was surprised at how late it had gotten. The temperature had dropped. My dress wasn’t nearly enough.

“No cabs out here,” I muttered to myself, checking my phone. Zero bars.

Perfect.

So I walked.

It was only a fifteen-minute trek back to the palace. I'd done worse. The road was quiet, bordered by dark trees and shadowy hedges. I kept my eyes down, arms wrapped around myself.

Then I heard few men grunting behind me.

Laughter, but not the good kind. Sharp. Mocking.

I looked up and saw them — four men, loitering near the gate that led back to the main road. I could smell the alcohol on them even from a distance.

“Hey, sweetheart,” one called. “You lost?”

“Looks like she’s out past curfew,” another sneered.

I sped up, heart thudding.

“Hey, don’t be rude,” one said, stepping in front of me. “We just wanna talk.”

“No, thanks,” I said, voice tight.

“You sure?” He reached out, fingers brushing my arm.

I jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

That’s when it shifted.

Their eyes narrowed. The air thickened.

“She’s got a mouth on her,” one of them growled.

I backed up, panic spiking in my chest. My wolf was still weak, still healing. I couldn’t shift. I couldn’t fight all of them.

Then — tires on gravel.

A car screeched to a halt beside us, door slamming open.

“Get in the car, Lucy.”

The voice was low. Commanding.

Ethan.

I didn’t hesitate. I ran to the passenger side and jumped in, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the seatbelt.

Through the windshield, I saw him approach the men.

One of them laughed. “What’s your problem, man?”

“You just made the last mistake of your lives,” Ethan said, his voice cold as steel.

And then — chaos.

I didn’t see much. Just flashes. A blur of motion. A spray of blood on blood on the pavement. The sound of bones breaking. A scream — cut short.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Drive,” Ethan growled, shoving the keys into my trembling hands.

I didn’t look back.

I drove.

Fast.

Too fast.

My hands were white-knuckled on the wheel, my heart thudding like a war drum. I didn’t stop until I reached the palace gates. Even then, I sat in the car, gasping, cold sweat clinging to my skin.