3.

Lucian's P.O.V.

I watch carefully at the many pairs of pack members fighting in the large open field, surveying their movements from afar. Skilled warriors walk around them, inserting little pieces of advice which seem to help a bit.

But even with the help, they are still shit.

A smile tugs at my lips when I catch Kaia throw someone easily three times her size over her shoulder and onto the ground. She teases them aimlessly before offering them a hand and pulling them up, and then they start again.

I keep observing from my spot beneath a large oak tree, catching the mistakes that the warriors miss, making a mental note to tell someone to deal with it later. I can't necessarily go and tell them myself, they'd back away, some might even run. I don't even train with my pack anymore; I've sent too many of my own to the healing centers. In my dad's own words, I "don't know when to stop" and have "a minimal level of self-control."

It wasn't my fault they were all weak.

So I just have to watch from afar and take mental notes. It isn't all that bad since some of the pairings are a bit mismatched, and that makes for great entertainment. My favorite ones to watch are the pairings which involve a witch or warlock and a wolf. It is usually a little bloody, rawer, as people divert to their natural instincts.

Over the years, many of their kind have trickled into the pack and we've learned to accept them, despite the way our genetics detest it. But it has given us more than a step up when facing our enemies; it changed the game entirely. I was the one who suggested that we let them join, allowing each species to release the natural tension formed by one another's presence, and I was right. Pack relations have quelled a shitton ever since, and the hatred lingering between the two groups has faded significantly. I personally never minded them much, after all, I grew up with the best of their lot as an aunt,  Aunt Kat practically raised half this pack's witches and warlocks, she also raised me in her patience, if not her powers.

As if hearing his name, Zander approaches me after finishing his own little spar. His shirt is drenched in sweat and clinging to his skin, claw marks slashing through it at various parts. The blood beneath is easy to see, yet Zander is smiling while drinking his water as if he'd just won the fucking lottery.

"You did good out there," I admit as he slumps down beside me.

"You don't have to do that Alpha-nice shit with me, practice on someone else," he says dismissively, and I release a small breath of relief.

I'd say Zander is probably the only person I know who doesn't mind the way I am. That's why we get along. He is the exact same in his own right, a killer to his kind, but he doesn't care. Zander joined our pack after I ran across him in the woods; I was enjoying chasing a rogue and crashed into him when he was chasing an incubus. After we'd both killed our prey, we kind of just started talking and then went our separate ways. Until we ran into one another again and again and again, all during our hunts.

So after many conversations, he told me that he didn't have a home and no coven, so I invited him to the pack. It was dumb in hindsight, he could've been lying but I didn't get that vibe from him, so I went with my gut, and my gut was right.

"Your brother looks like he's in hell," Zander says after a moment, pointing across at Milo.

He was right. Milo is shaking like a leaf, tears streaming down his face while Dad tries to encourage him to try a little harder. It is the first time Milo has trained in years, and it is all because of what happened last week Thursday. Dad basically lost his shit when we got home and saw Milo's condition. After fawning over him for countless hours, he decided that it was time Milo went back to training. Milo begged and cried for him to change his mind, but he didn't, and for once, I didn't fight him on it.

I didn't necessarily understand Milo's strong dislike for any form of violence, but I learned to accept it and made sure to keep it away from him. But the kid needed to learn to defend himself; we wouldn't always be around to protect him, and he needed to know how to, at the very least, do that much for himself.

"He may pee himself," I admit with a sigh as I watch Milo curl into a ball on the ground in front of Dad, giving in to his genes and submitting to an Alpha. "I love my brother, but thank Goddess I'm not an Omega."

"Why not? Wouldn't be able to take another's strength?" Zander asks, raising an eyebrow playfully.

I glance at him, frowning, but of course, Zander just replies with a grin like always.

"Zander, stop messing with Lucian and actually do something for once," Sienna says as she approaches us, her faint muscles flexing with each step as she ties her hair back in a ponytail.

"Are you blind? I have been, all session in fact," Zander says, gesturing to his shirt before sliding a piece of gum between his lips.

"You think I don't know magic when I see it? My brother is a fucking warlock," she argues, and Zander shrugs helplessly at that, giving up within an instant.

"Isn't it more work to completely fabricate a second spell to float than doing it yourself?"

"Yes," he replies truthfully and stands up so Sienna can take his place. He lets himself float in front of us as he stretches out, as if laying down on an invisible bed. It was a spell Aunt Kat created and one only she mastered, but she was a sort of teacher within the pack for the other witches and warlocks and shared a lot of new stuff with them.

"I will never understand you," she sighs tiredly.

"Sounds like a personal problem," he replies and closes his eyes.

I feel Sienna's eyes on me but don't look her way. We are both here trying to complete our probationary tasks, and she is doing a lot better than I am. The elders doubted Sienna as our Beta because she came to the pack when she was five; they made up a lot of bullshit about her missing "key elemental phases." I didn't do any key shit in my first five years here except for poke people in their eyes, an activity I miss severely.

But now, the elders are her biggest fans, praising her every time she takes a fucking breath. They've even stopped their bullshit about not letting her out of the pack.

She goes to school with us now, which is a bigger pain than I imagined, and has finally started going out to parties with us, the ones outside the pack. She is happier than ever, and I am happy for her too, but I am also bitter as hell.

I can admit that much. After all, I am doing the same shit as her, yet everyone still fears and doubts me. I haven't killed anyone in months, I stopped hunting rogues down, and I am civil with the elders when they were around. Big improvement for me, but is it enough? No. I am still the Demon.

But that won't matter in a few more weeks; I'll be Alpha and they won't have any choice but to listen.

"Can you believe we're almost there?" Sienna says softly, snapping me from my whirlwind of thoughts.

"Where?"

"At the top," she says, her voice full of excitement and tenderness. "We've been dreaming of this since we were kids, Lucian, Alpha and Beta. The pack will be yours, the strongest pack in the world. All yours."

"Ours," I correct, letting my eyes meet hers. "And we'll make it stronger together."

She smiles weakly at that but doesn't reply. She just twiddles the butterfly crystal on the necklace I'd given her between her thin fingers. She never takes it off, wears it every day no matter what. It makes a piece of the heaviness in my chest disappear, the doubt that had built over the last few weeks easing a fraction.

"And I'll clean up all your messes and make the stuff you can't deal with go away," Zander inputs, making our eyes glance his way. His eyes are still closed, but he is grinning. I can't help but smile while Sienna bursts out laughing.

We continue to talk idly until they are forced to go back and finish the session, leaving me alone in the shadows of the tree's leaves. I smile to myself as I replay Sienna's words. We are so close to what we always wanted that I could taste it.

We're almost there.

************

I lean against my headboard, biting at the pencil between my lips as I try to figure out a physics question. It makes sense what they are asking, but they've given little to work with, and even though I am racking my brain for a suitable formula, I am coming up short.

"What do you think, Blaze? Try to figure it out or check the answer booklet?" I ask, taking a moment to glance across at my bunny, Blaze, who is chewing at yet another one of my t-shirts. I groan in anger but don't bother threatening him; Blaze's will to live seems minimal.

"What about you?" I ask, lifting the question booklet to look at Mr. Fluff, who is sitting in my lap. He is Milo's bunny, but he, like all the fucking animals in the world, is drawn to me, and I often find him in my room with Blaze.

"Figure it out? I'll try."

I stop for a moment, vaguely aware that I am talking to bunnies, but continue with the comfort that they don't annoy me as much as talking to people. They can't piss me off because they never answer back.

I eventually end up figuring out the question, the process repeating itself several times until I've finished all of the questions successfully. I rub my temples tiredly as my brain thumps from having to think so much. Sinking further into my bed, I pick up my phone, scrolling through my messages and snaps with no intention of finishing the rest of my homework.

"Knock, knock."

I glance up from my phone to see my dad, standing in the doorway with one of his goofy smiles that makes me nauseous.

"Slacking off on homework again, I see," he says as he walks into the room. I frown and push aside the physics booklet; it wouldn't make any difference if I pointed it out.

"Naturally," I reply sarcastically, and he rolls his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"Can't I just have some one-on-one time with my firstborn shitbag?" he asks innocently, and I snort in response.

My dad, has a way of calling all of us shitbags. I think it's his way of being endearing, but to other people, not so much. I didn't mind it, really; we got him back in our own ways, making fun of his age to piss him off. Despite him being the exact same age as our mom, Kaia and I still refer to him as the "old man" or "grandpa." He almost pops a vein every time we do it.

"Okay, go ahead," I prompt as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "This shitbag is listening," I offer, and he laughs at this.

"How are you doing?" he asks, his smile fading a little. "Without Jace around?"

My smile fades along with his. I force myself to look away, not wanting him to be able to read anything through my eyes. Jace is the eldest child in the family; he's been gone for only two months, but it feels like an eternity without him near. Jace and I have always been close. No matter what everyone else said about me, Jace didn't care. Foolish people judged Jace for not having a wolf, like a missing wolf made him half a person instead of just... Jace. He hadn't been born without one… he'd lost it. When Jace was young, rogues had taken him from his old pack. He was an Alpha's son, and whatever they wanted with him, they'd experimented on him for it. Dad found him eventually. Dad understood better than anyone what that kind of inhumane experiment does to a person, because the same thing had happened to him once, back when he was a kid too. By the time Jace was found, his own pack had already been wiped out by the same rogues, no one left to bring him home to. So my parents kept him. Whatever happened to him in those years, he never talked about it, and none of us ever pushed. But it broke something in him that never grew back. His wolf never resurfaced after that. I think that's why I clung to him so hard when we were younger. He still loved me despite it all, despite the way they'd judge him or stare at me. Jace was always on my side, and he always would be. I knew that much for sure.

But Jace had met his mate, and they had moved away to start a pack of their own. After all, Jace was an Alpha whom our parents adopted when he lost everything. Now, he'd found the one piece of his old pack which remained, his mate, and he was happy again. I didn't hate him for being happy; I just wished he could be happy much closer to home, where I could make sure he was safe as well.

I didn't feel like such shit when Jace was around. Even though I wasn't the best brother all the time, he never changed how he treated me. But now Jace wasn't here, and I was left with everyone looking at me instead of the both of us.

"I'm fine," I reply, pushing Mr. Fluff off of me.

"Lucian..." he starts, but I slide off the bed and pick up one of my knives off the dresser, twirling it between my fingers as I lean against the wood, keeping the distance between us.

"I'm fine. You asked me how I was doing and I gave you an answer; don't try to make one up for me," I grind out, glancing up at him as I press the tip of the knife against my finger, not hard enough to cut, just enough to feel the pressure there. He studies me with worried eyes, eyes which keep glancing at the knife as if it is the cause of my hostility.

"Put the knife down, Lucian," he says calmly, but I shake my head.

"I'm not going to stab you," I spit, anger growing deep inside at the words. I would never touch my own father in a harmful way; I wasn't that fucked up.

"Yeah, but seeing my son spinning a knife in his hand while we're talking isn't comforting at all," he replies, his voice still calm and gentle. It was different for him, and it made me mad just to hear it.

"It calms me," I explain, but he doesn't budge, so I set it back down and instead fold my arms, letting my talons poke at my skin where he can't see.

"Now, when was the last time you spoke to Jace?" he asks, leaning forward slightly.

"I don't know, a few weeks," I reply, and he frowns deeply at this.

"You guys used to talk daily when he was in university," he argues, and I have to fight my urge to grab the knife.

"Well, he didn't have a mate in university or a pack to build," I offer, my foot shaking a little. I still it before Dad can catch it and look back at him. "You should know that if this is twenty questions, you only have eighteen more."

"Funny," he replies before he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I just want to make sure you're okay, Lucian."

I feel some of the tension slip away as I look at him. He looks worried, tired, and even a little guilty. I didn't get why he had that last emotion, but I didn't think to ask about it; that would just lead to a further conversation I didn't want. I release a sigh of my own, retracting my talons before I walk back to the bed and sit beside him.

"I'm fine, Dad," I confirm, and he glances at me as if for surety. "I haven't done anything wrong in months, I've stopped talking back to the old people, and I don't snap at the warriors anymore. There are only a few more weeks until my coronation and I'll be Alpha next. Everything will be the way it should be, so stop worrying. You're too old to stress this much."

My attempt at lightening the mood falls flat as he looks at me, his eyes filling with even more guilt, and I can feel the heaviness in my chest seeping back inside. My fingers clench and unclench, aching to have my knife back in my grasp as I look at him, holding his gaze as he holds mine.

A million emotions run through me, the strongest being terror.

"Lucian..." he starts, but he doesn't get far when Milo comes running into the room. His eyes are wide and panicked as he looks around. All the tension seeps away from him when he sees his bunny, which he picks up and holds tightly to his chest.

"S-Sorry," he stutters when he looks up and sees Dad in the room with me.

"It's fine, Milo, I was just leaving," Dad says as he stands and walks away.

"Dad," I call, and he stops in the doorway, turning his head over his shoulder but refusing to look at me. "What are you not telling me?"

He doesn't reply right away, his eyes stuck to the floor. I grip the soft sheets tightly between my fingers and wait.

Milo holds the stupid bunny closer as he backs himself into a corner. Dad was blocking the doorway so he couldn't quite run away.

"Nothing," he says finally, but the anxiety doesn't fade from my chest. "Goodnight, guys. I love you."

Milo whispers a shaky response, but I don't.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong, and every vessel inside of me screamed to tell me that nothing was okay. Milo stays in his corner while I stand and grab my knife again. I turn and throw it at my large target; it hits the center and I release a deep breath. I turn back around, gather all my knives and blades which are scattered around, and begin throwing them at my hung target. Milo jumps with each hit until he finally finds the courage to run out of the room.

Something's not right.

I could feel it, Theo could feel it, but I didn't know what it was. I throw one of the thin blades and it hits the last space in the center of the target, the rest filled with all the other knives. So I begin throwing them at the other ridges, my jaws clenching down while my teeth grind in frustration. I try to keep myself focused on the target, focused on the feel of the knives slipping from my grasp to hit something.

I imagine the target has breath. Imagine it hurts it. Imagine that it hurts it the way my body hurts with this heaviness.

If I didn't, I would go and find something that would actually feel pain.

When there are no more, I stand panting for air, staring at the full target, my mind racing with suspicion and fear. I hated feeling fear, hated feeling weak, hated it more than anything in the world. Weakness was dangerous; it left you vulnerable, left you open. Weakness allowed others to take advantage of you, and the thought of someone even trying to do that to me made me want to beat them into submission.

I walk to my bed and pick up my phone from its place on my crumpled black sheets. I dial Jace's number before raising it to my ear. While it rings, I shut my door and windows, trapping the sound as best as I can in a house full of wolves.

"Hey, Lucian," Jace answers cheerfully, the sound of his voice easing me slightly as I stop pacing and stand still.

"Jace, something is wrong," I say quickly, the words tumbling out of me before I can stop myself. "Dad was acting strange when I started talking about the coronation. He's been acting that way a lot recently, both of them have. They won't tell me, but I know something is wrong."

Silence follows for a second, and then another, and another. Moments pass without a response, so much so that I have to check my phone to make sure the call hadn't cut. It hadn't, yet he wasn't replying, making me begin pacing again.

"Jace," I call when too much time passes without a response.

"I-I'm here," he answers, his voice shaky.

"You okay?" I ask with a frown, a new form of worry crawling up my spine. "Did someone threaten you?"

"No," he dismisses quickly, his voice a little angry. "I'm fine, Lucian. About Dad... I'm sure it's nothing, Lucian. You're probably just anxious about the coronation and finding your mate."

"No, Jace. I can feel it. I do…"

"If they had something to tell you, they would, when it was best," Jace rushes out, making my frown deepen. "Now I have to go, b-but don't worry too much, okay? Bye."

I keep the phone to my ear despite the beeping which replaces my brother's voice. I stand still, my heart pounding and racing as my mind rattles in further confusion. Jace sounded nervous, scared even... what the hell was going on? I slide the phone down, forcing myself to at least try and believe his words.

Jace was usually right about these kinds of things; he kept calm when I was ready to attack. Jace was fair and he never lied to me. I could trust Jace. Jace was like me; Jace knew me. Jace was always on my side.

I put the phone down and force myself to trust in that, if not anything else.

I could trust Jace.

____________________________________________

A/N: ​Lowkey wanted to tear up here, I kid you not. Like fucking hell, I feel so bad for Lucian. Like shit. (You'll find out why soon)

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