The Devil's Choice

Four minutes.

I stared at the glowing phone screen, my reflection ghost-pale in the dark glass. You're not safe here. Come to the service elevator. —A friend.

Lucian's warning echoed in my skull: Trust no one.

But Lucian wasn't here. Lucian had kissed me until the lights shattered, then vanished into the night to fight a battle that—according to this message—was a trap designed to lure him away.

Viktor works for the Council.

If that was true, then Lucian was walking into an ambush. And I was sitting here, locked in a penthouse, waiting to be collected like a package.

Three minutes.

I pressed my palm against the cracked marble counter. The stone was still warm where my power had fractured it. The First Luna could command the elements. Lucian's words replayed in my mind. Light. Shadow. The balance between beast and crown.

I didn't feel balanced. I felt like a bomb with a lit fuse.

Two minutes.

If I stayed, I was a sitting duck. If I went to the service elevator, I might be walking into another trap. But at least I'd be moving. At least I'd be making a choice instead of waiting to be chosen for.

You've been discarded your whole life, a voice whispered—my voice, hardened by years of surviving. Don't let them discard you again. Choose yourself.

One minute.

I grabbed the phone and ran.

The hallway was empty.

I'd expected guards, but the corridor stretched silent and dark, emergency lights casting everything in blood-red. Somewhere below, alarms blared—probably Lucian's lockdown protocol. But up here, it was quiet as a tomb.

Too quiet.

My bare feet slapped against cold marble as I ran. The silk pajamas Lucian had provided were useless for escape—no pockets, no shoes, nothing practical. But I didn't have time to change. Every second counted.

The service elevator was at the end of a narrow corridor behind the main staircase. I'd noticed it during my three days of pacing the penthouse like a caged animal, memorizing exits I couldn't use. Now that knowledge might save my life.

I rounded the corner and skidded to a stop.

Lucas stood by the elevator, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a duffel bag. His easy smile flickered when he saw me—relief, maybe. Or satisfaction.

"You came." He sounded genuinely surprised. "I wasn't sure you would."

"The message was from you."

"Obviously." He tossed me the duffel bag. "Clothes. Shoes. Cash. Untraceable phone. Everything you need to disappear."

I caught the bag but didn't open it. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because my brother is going to get you killed." Lucas's smile faded completely. "The Council isn't just sending rogues, Belle. They're mobilizing everything—extremist factions, mercenary packs, anyone who wants to see Lucian's reign end. And they'll use you to do it. Your blood isn't just valuable. It's the key to a prophecy that could shatter the Lycan throne."

"What prophecy?"

"That the First Luna's heir will either crown the true king... or destroy him." Lucas's eyes gleamed in the emergency lights. "The Council believes you'll destroy Lucian. They want to make sure that happens. But I don't think it's that simple. I think you get to choose."

My head spun. Crown the true king or destroy him. "Why should I believe anything you say?"

"You shouldn't." He pressed the elevator button. "But right now, I'm the only one giving you a choice. Lucian locks you away. The Council wants you dead. I'm offering you freedom and answers. The rest is up to you."

The elevator doors slid open.

Lucas stepped inside and held out his hand.

I didn't take it.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere the Council can't reach you. Somewhere you can learn about your power without Lucian's paranoia suffocating you." His hand remained extended. "There's a place—an old sanctuary from the First Luna's time. Hidden. Protected. The elders there know things about your bloodline that even the Council has forgotten."

"And Lucian?"

"He'll be furious." Lucas's lips curved. "But he'll also be alive. If you stay here, the Council's forces will storm this building within hours. Lucian's guards are good, but they're outnumbered three to one. Without him here, this penthouse becomes your tomb."

The bond in my chest twisted painfully. Lucian. Even now, some traitorous part of me reached for him, searching for the connection we'd shared during that kiss.

He left you, I reminded myself. He always leaves.

But he'd also come for me in the Council chamber. He'd defied his own people to save my life. He'd kissed me like I was oxygen and he was drowning.

"Belle." Lucas's voice softened. "I know you feel the bond. I know it's confusing. But the mate bond doesn't mean he's good for you. It just means fate has a sick sense of humor."

I looked at his outstretched hand. At the easy confidence in his posture. At the warmth in his eyes that I desperately wanted to believe was genuine.

Whatever kindness he shows you—it's a trap.

Lucian's warning. But Lucian had also said trust no one—and that included him.

"What do you get out of this?" I asked. "You're risking everything to help me. Your brother's wrath. The Council's retaliation. Why?"

Lucas's expression shifted. For just a moment, the mask slipped, and I saw something raw underneath—old pain, old hunger, old resentment.

"Because I know what it's like to be the spare," he said quietly. "To be valued only for what you can do for someone else's crown. Lucian was born to rule. I was born to serve. And I've spent my whole life watching him make decisions that hurt people—hurt me—while everyone calls him a great king."

He met my eyes. "You're not the only one who's tired of being discarded, Belle."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Because I understood them. Deep in my bones, in the part of me that had been passed from foster home to foster home, I understood.

I took his hand.

The elevator descended into darkness.

Lucas's grip was warm and steady, grounding me as the floors ticked by. I changed quickly in the corner of the elevator—jeans, boots, a black sweater that actually fit. Practical clothes. Escape clothes.

"You planned this," I said, pulling on the boots. "The clothes. The timing. You knew the attack was coming."

"I suspected." Lucas didn't deny it. "The Council has been planning something for weeks. I have sources inside their ranks. When I heard Viktor's name, I knew they were making their move."

"And you didn't warn Lucian?"

"Would he have believed me?" Lucas's laugh was bitter. "My brother trusts his own judgment above everyone else's. If I'd told him, he would have assumed I was manipulating him. So instead, I'm saving the one person he actually cares about—even if he won't admit it."

The elevator shuddered to a stop. The doors opened onto a parking garage, dim and echoing. A black SUV waited twenty feet away, engine idling.

"This way." Lucas tugged me forward.

We were halfway to the vehicle when I felt it—a shift in the air, a prickle at the back of my neck. That strange, electric heat stirred in my veins.

Danger.

"Lucas—"

The shadows moved.

Three figures emerged from behind concrete pillars, their eyes gleaming amber in the darkness. Not Council members—these were rougher, wilder, their clothes mismatched and their smiles sharp with hunger.

Rogue wolves.

"The girl," one of them growled, his voice barely human. "Viktor said she'd be here. Hand her over, pretty boy, and we might let you walk away."

Lucas stepped in front of me, and I felt the change ripple through him—muscles tensing, posture shifting from casual to predatory. When he spoke, his voice carried an edge I hadn't heard before.

"I'm going to give you one chance to run."

The rogues laughed.

Lucas smiled—and it was nothing like his usual charming grin. It was cold. Hungry. The smile of someone who'd been waiting a long time to stop pretending.

"Wrong answer."

He moved faster than my eyes could track. One moment he was beside me. The next, he was across the garage, and the first rogue was crumpling to the ground with a shattered jaw. The second lunged—Lucas caught him by the throat and slammed him into a concrete pillar hard enough to crack it.

The third rogue grabbed me from behind.

I screamed, and the heat in my veins exploded. Light burst from my skin—actual light, bright as a flashbang. The rogue howled and released me, clawing at his eyes.

Lucas finished him with a single, brutal strike.

Silence fell. Three bodies lay unconscious—or dead—on the garage floor.

I stared at my hands. They were still glowing faintly, the light pulsing in time with my racing heart.

"You really are her." Lucas's voice was reverent. "The First Luna's heir."

He crossed to me, stepping over bodies without a glance. His eyes were bright with something I couldn't name—excitement, maybe. Or greed.

"We need to go. Now. More will come."

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the SUV.

The city blurred past the windows as Lucas drove. I sat in the passenger seat, my hands trembling in my lap, the faint glow finally fading.

"Where are we going?" My voice sounded hollow.

"The sanctuary I told you about. It's outside the city, in the Adirondacks. Old territory. Sacred ground. The elders there have been waiting for someone like you for centuries."

"Waiting for what?"

Lucas glanced at me, and in the passing streetlights, his expression was unreadable. "To fulfill the prophecy. To crown the true king."

My blood ran cold. "You said I could choose."

"You can. But choices have consequences." He reached over and squeezed my hand—gentle, reassuring. "I'm not your enemy, Belle. I'm the only person who's been honest with you from the start."

I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe someone.

But as the city lights faded behind us and the road curved into darkness, my phone buzzed. Not the one Lucas gave me—the one I'd taken from the penthouse. The one Lucian didn't know I had.

A single message glowed on the screen:

"Lucas killed the First Luna's last heir. Twenty years ago. He's not saving you. He's collecting you. —L"

I stared at the words until they blurred.

Lucian. It had to be Lucian. Somehow, impossibly, he'd found a way to reach me.

I looked at Lucas—at his easy smile, his warm eyes, his hands steady on the wheel.

Then I looked at the bodies we'd left behind. The way he'd moved. The hunger in his smile.

He's not saving you. He's collecting you.

The sanctuary waited ahead. Lucian was somewhere behind. And I was trapped in a car with a man who might be my salvation—or my executioner.

I slipped the phone into my pocket and said nothing.

But my hand found the door handle and didn't let go.