44. The Price Of Obedience.

LUCY’S POV

I didn’t remember leaving the mansion. I didn’t remember the guards staring after me or the wind ripping at my hair. All I remembered was the blur—the rush—the sound of my heartbeat banging in my ears as I ran with the full force of my wolf.

My legs moved faster than my thoughts.

My chest burned.

My mind spun.

Adrian’s rejection.

The council’s warning.

My father’s pressure.

The witch’s dangerous solution.

Everything mixed into one explosive storm until all I could do was run, run, run.

The night looked different when I was angry—sharper, louder, darker. Even the moon felt like it was watching me. Judging me.

The mansion disappeared behind me, swallowed by the trees and distance. My father’s territory rose ahead, the tall walls and iron gates visible even from afar.

When I finally burst onto our land, the guards scrambled awake, probably startled by the sudden gust of wind that came with my arrival.

They bowed immediately when they recognized me.

“Open it,” I snapped.

No explanations.

No pleasantries.

No hesitation.

They opened the gate, and I sped inside, not stopping until I reached the front door of the house I once called home.

The door wasn’t locked—I didn’t even give it a chance to resist. I pushed it open hard enough that it slammed into the wall.

My father, Rowan, stood in the living room. He was at his desk, sorting through papers the way he always did late at night. He looked up sharply at the noise.

“Lucy?” he said, startled.

I didn’t wait.

I didn’t breathe.

“I’m ready,” I declared.

His eyes widened, confusion flickering for only a second before it dissolved into something else—something almost proud.

“Ready for what?” he asked, voice low, cautious.

“You know what,” I said. “I’m ready to do it.”

His eyebrows slowly rose, and then he smiled.

A sharp, satisfied smile.

“So,” he murmured, stepping closer. “You’ve decided.”

I lifted my chin. “Yes.”

For a moment, he simply stared at me—as if he wanted to read every crack in my expression. As if he wanted to see whether this was fear, desperation, or strength.

It was all three.

Mixed and burning inside me like poison.

Then he nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Very good.”

I exhaled. Not relief. Not comfort. Something else. Something heavy. Something final.

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“We attack the vampire general tomorrow morning,” he said immediately, as though he had been preparing this answer long before I stepped into the room. “We have watched him long enough. We know his weakness. He is old, slower than he used to be, and careless now. A perfect target.”

I swallowed hard at the certainty in his voice. My father always spoke with confidence, but today… it sounded colder.

“And the ashes?” I asked quietly.

“We will get them after we kill him,” he said simply.

“And the blood? You said you were watching the weakest wolf in your pack—”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Forget that. A weakling might spoil the ritual. I will use one of our werewolf prisoners instead.”

My breath caught.

“A prisoner?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to kill him?” I whispered.

“For the ritual, yes. It is necessary.”

My stomach twisted.

Killing a vampire general was one thing—vampires and werewolves had been enemies for centuries, and generals were dangerous monsters in their own right.

But killing a werewolf prisoner…

Someone already locked up, weak, helpless…

It felt like something else.

Something darker.

But I didn’t argue.

I couldn’t.

I was the one who agreed to this.

My voice came out small. “When do we leave?”

“At dawn,” he said. “Rest tonight.”

Rest.

As if sleep would magically erase the weight on my chest.

He pointed down the hallway toward my old room.

Without another word, I walked away.

The memories of that hallway felt distant now. The walls that once felt warm and familiar now felt cold. Every shadow felt heavy. Every step echoed too loudly.

When I reached my old room, I closed the door and leaned against it, letting my head drop.

Was I truly doing this?

Was I truly going to kill a vampire general?

Let my father kill a werewolf prisoner?

All to tattoo a Luna mark on me…

Just to save a title?

Just to punish Adrian?

Just to prove something?

I didn’t know anymore.

Maybe I didn’t want to think.

Maybe I didn’t want to feel.

I sat on the bed, the sheets familiar but distant. My hands trembled slightly. I curled them into fists to stop the shaking.

Tomorrow felt like a blade hanging over my head.

But I told my father I was ready.

And once Rowan heard those words…

There was no going back.

---

ROWAN’S POV

Lucy’s footsteps faded down the hallway, and for a while, I simply stood there in the silence she left behind.

My daughter.

My stubborn, proud, reckless daughter.

She said she was ready.

The smile I had given her in the moment slipped away now that she was out of sight. My shoulders sagged slightly, a heaviness settling deep inside my chest.

I moved slowly back to my desk and sat. I didn’t touch the papers. My eyes remained on the empty space in front of me.

What was she thinking?

What pushed her into this decision so suddenly?

I knew the council summoned her today.

I knew they gave her a deadline.

I knew her position was threatened.

But Lucy was never the type to bend quickly.

She always fought.

Always resisted.

Yet she came home tonight—running, desperate, breathless—and said she was ready.

Ready to shed blood.

Ready to do something dangerous.

Ready to follow my plan without question.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something happened.

Something big.

Something emotional.

Something painful.

Maybe Adrian said something.

Maybe he pushed her too far.

Maybe she finally realized what the council was capable of.

But for her to return home with that look…

That cold fire in her eyes…

No.

Something cracked inside her.

And I knew my daughter well enough to recognize when she was acting out of strength—and when she was acting out of heartbreak.

I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my jaw slowly.

I had spent my whole life preparing Lucy for power.

Teaching her strength, strategy, discipline.

Preparing her to lead when I step down.

But maybe I had also placed too much weight on her shoulders.

Maybe I had pushed too hard.

Maybe the council pushed even harder.

She wasn’t supposed to break.

She wasn’t supposed to run into my home tonight and say—

“I’m ready.”

Ready to spill blood.

Ready to risk her life.

Ready to be marked by a ritual even witches feared.

She shouldn’t have to be ready for that.

I sighed and placed my elbows on the table, pressing my fingers to my forehead.

Then again, Lucy had inherited my stubbornness.

My fire.

My pride.

Maybe I should have known this was coming.

But what troubled me wasn’t the ritual.

It wasn’t the vampire general.

It wasn’t even the prisoner who would lose his life.

What troubled me…

Was why she suddenly agreed.

Because this wasn’t a decision made calmly.

It was made out of fury.

Out of emotion.

Out of something raw and painful.

And emotions like that led to decisions that burned everything in their path.

I stood up and walked to the window. The moonlight spilled into the room, cold and bright, illuminating the territory below.

Tomorrow would be a bloody day.

Dangerous.

Risky.

Lucy was powerful—more powerful than she understood.

But vampire generals weren’t toys.

They were centuries old.

They were cunning.

Even weakened ones were unpredictable.

I would be with her.

I would protect her.

But I couldn’t shake the fear that something about tomorrow felt… fated.

Fated and dangerous.

I thought about the girl she used to be—running around the front yard, laughing carefree, climbing trees like she feared nothing in the world.

I thought about the girl she became—strong, sharp, stubborn, defiant. A leader in every way.

And now?

Now she walked into this house like a storm—shaken, hurting, but hiding it behind determination.

Why?

Why now?

What happened?

I wished she told me.

Even a little.

Even one detail.

But she didn’t.

She closed herself off like she always did when the world hurt her.

I exhaled deeply and leaned a hand against the window frame.

“Lucy… what pushed you to this point?” I whispered.

The night didn’t answer.

And that silence cut deeper than any sword.

I turned away from the window and went back to my desk. There was no turning back now. She said she was ready. And I had to prepare everything.

The weapons.

The trackers.

The route to the vampire general’s hideout.

The prisoner we would bring to the witch.

It all needed to be perfect.

But even as I planned, my heart wasn’t at ease.

I feared she wasn’t choosing this for power.

Or duty.

Or even survival.

I feared she was choosing this…

because she was hurting.

Because someone—Adrian, most likely—crushed her pride so brutally she felt she had no choice left.

And that terrified me.

Not because she wasn’t capable.

But because people acting from heartbreak often walked straight into ruin.

Tomorrow would change everything.

Whether for the better or worse…

I had no idea.

But as her father, all I could do was stand beside her—

Even if she was walking into a storm neither of us fully understood.