His anger

Lucas’s POV

I didn’t remember walking out of the summit.

One second I was standing at the edge of the ballroom, watching her kiss him, and the next, I was outside, breathing like I’d just fought a war I didn’t win.

My hands were trembling. Not from fear.

From fury.

From disbelief.

From the kind of hollow rage that doesn’t burn. It freezes.

She kissed him.

She fucking kissed him. In front of me.

She knew I was there. She knew what I was. Who I was. What we were. And she still kissed him.

The bond didn’t break, but something inside me did.

It didn’t snap—it shook. Like the soul beneath the connection had shifted.

There was a hollow thrum in my chest where there should’ve been fire.

And my wolf… My wolf didn’t understand. He howled. Loud and unrelenting.

I hadn’t felt him like this since the night I rejected her.

Five years ago. I stood in front of the pack, staring at her as if she were the enemy.

Not the woman I’d kissed in the woods, not the mate I’d held beneath moonlight.

But the liability. The weak link. The distraction my father told me would cost me the throne.

I looked into her eyes, saw the hope there—burning, stupid, fragile.

And I said:

“She means nothing.”

I meant: I don’t deserve her.

I meant: I’m scared of losing everything.

I meant: I love her so much it could ruin me.

But all she heard was:

“She’s a mistake.”

And I didn’t stop them when they laughed. Now here we were. Five years later. And she was laughing back. She's having the final laugh. Without me.

I didn’t go home. I drove. Windows down. Wind in my face. The cold doing nothing to soothe the storm inside me.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it.

The way she leaned into him.

The way he smiled after she kissed him.

The way she didn’t look at me once. Like I wasn’t even there.

Back at Blackwood Tower, I tore off my suit jacket and threw it across the room.

It hit the wall. Fell. Useless. Like me.

I collapsed into the leather chair behind my desk. My fingers dug into the armrests.

I should’ve killed him. Right there. In the ballroom.

But she wouldn’t have blinked. She would’ve stepped over the blood and kept walking.

That’s how far gone she was.

The bond still throbbed. Not strong. Not tender.

Just… tired.

Like it had been carrying this weight for too long.

And I started to ask myself the question I never dared before:

What if she doesn’t feel it anymore?

What if I killed it the moment I let my fear win?

What if it only lives in me now?

I growled and slammed my fists into the desk.

My claws broke skin.

My own blood spilled.

And still, it didn’t ease the ache.

“Sir?” Grant’s voice came through the intercom.

“What.”

“You have a visitor. The woman from PR. She says it’s urgent.”

“Tell her to leave.”

“She said it’s about the Carter situation.”

I froze.

“Send her up.”

Ten minutes later, the door opened.

Dana walked in, heels clicking, tablet in hand. Her face was unreadable.

“I assume you’ve seen the footage,” she said.

“I was there.”

“Then you should know this is spinning fast.” She handed me the tablet. “This is what the media’s calling it.”

I didn’t want to look. But I did.

Headline:

“Selina Carter Debuts New Flame—Lucas Blackwood’s Ex Fated Mate Sparks Power Couple Buzz.”

The word fated was in bold. Mocking. Very fucking mocking!

“She’s baiting you,” Dana said quietly. “She’s playing this exactly how we would. Controlled chaos. Calculated exposure.”

“She kissed him.”

“Yes. On camera. At a summit where your name was headlining. Symbolism doesn’t get louder than that.”

My jaw clenched. “She’s daring me to react.”

“She wants to see if you’ll break like she did.”

I stood. Walked to the window. New York glittered beneath the night like a city on the verge of something violent.

“I already broke,” I whispered.

Dana didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

After she left, I stood in the dark for a long time.

Thinking. Feeling. Trying not to.

I remembered her eyes the night I walked away. The betrayal. The disbelief.

She was silent when I rejected her. Didn’t scream. Didn’t beg.

She just left.

And I never chased her. Until now.

And maybe now… it was too late.

I ran a hand down my face.

Tired. Raw. Not sure what the hell I was anymore.

Alpha? Mate? Or a fucking enemy?

Then my phone buzzed. A single text. Unmarked number.

Just five words:

“Stay out of my way.”

No name. No signature.

But I knew it was her.

Selina.

I stared at the words.

Felt the heat crawl up my spine. Then I smiled.

A slow, dangerous thing.

She thought I was outmatched.

She thought I was breaking.

She had no idea.

Because if she wanted war…

She’d forgotten who taught her how to fight.