THREE

LUCIEN’S POV

My wolf surged to the surface so violently, it nearly knocked the air out of my lungs.

Not angry.

Not threatened.

Ecstatic.

Mate.

The word was so loud in my head I almost dropped the phone. It howled inside me like a storm, shaking everything I thought I understood. One second, I was striding through the marbled hallway, my phone pressed to my ear, drowning in the chaos of an emergency back home— territory breach, rogues near the northern border—and I needed to be back in Crimson Hollow and the next, I was colliding with something soft, slender and warm.

I asked if she was okay, I’d tried to help her up and that was when it happened.

Our hands touched. Just that. Just a fleeting touch.

And my damn wolf lost it.

A jolt ran up my arm like lightning, and I stopped dead in my tracks. It was like my soul recognised something ancient, something sacred. Whoever this girl was, she was it. My mate. My cursed, fated mate. After all these years of silence, of solitude, of burying the hope deep where even I couldn’t touch it, the bond had finally sung—and it had screamed. Loudly.

My wolf, usually grumpy and unsocial, howled like the skies had cracked open. He pounded against my ribs, claws raking across the inside of my skin like he wanted to claw his way out and get to her.

I froze, completely forgetting where I was. The scent —wild jasmine and honey— filled my senses, burning itself into my brain. I spun, phone forgotten in my hand, eyes finally focusing past the haze of adrenaline and scent and her—her.

Mate.

She stood there, stunned at first, like a deer caught in headlights. Thin. Too thin. Her cheeks were hollow, the fabric of her uniform hung off her like it had once belonged to someone else. Brownish hair—ginger maybe? Hard to tell under the dusty chandelier light—was tied back tightly, looking like it should be let loose.

She looked worn down to the bone.

But beautiful. Not in the painted way of court women or the bride I was meant to collect. No—this girl had something else.

But she hadn't felt me like I felt her.

Not a flicker. Not a twitch. Not even the sharp inhale of recognition I expected.

She bowed. Really low. Then turned and ran like I was the devil himself.

She never uttered a word.

I stood there like a damn fool, still staring at the space where she vanished. Her scent—goddess, that scent— was the only evidence that I'd seen a real person and not some ghost.

My wolf paced, snarling inside me. Why didn't she feel it? Why isn’t she coming back?

Wasn’t it supposed to be mutual? Instant?

There are only two reasons for that, I remembered. Two dreaded reasons every wolf fears when this happens.

One, she’s been rejected before, and I’m her second-chance mate. That bond is never as strong. It meant her soul’s already taken a beating, and she might never fully feel mine.

Two—worse—her mate bond was locked.

Some wolves, due to trauma or manipulation, had their mate bond sealed off entirely. Sometimes by dark magic, sometimes by a past so painful it caged them in from the inside. Wolves like that couldn’t feel love. Couldn’t feel the bond. No matter how loud the pull was from the other side.

Which means matter what I do, no matter how much I ache for her, she'll never feel the pull back. Never feel the thread tugging tight between us. Never know the weight of my name resting in her chest. Until she unlocked the bond somehow.

My heart thundered with the realization. Was I cursed to feel this alone?

I clenched my jaw.

Fucking hell.

Was she broken? Was that what I had seen in those big, empty eyes?

She was too thin. Her frame looked like it hadn’t known food or comfort in too long. She looked like someone who had spent more time fading into shadows than being seen.

My wolf whimpered. My mate.

A hollow sensation gnawed at my chest. What if I was already too late? Was she really my true mate? Or had my instincts failed me? Could they even do that?

A tap on my shoulder pulled me out of the spiral.

Callen, my beta, stood behind me with a serious expression. “Alpha,” he said, “the car’s ready.”

I didn’t move at first. The image of her running away still lingered behind my eyes. The girl who didn’t feel it.

My bride—the one arranged to seal a powerful alliance—was waiting in the west wing. The entire council of elders would soon know I hadn’t collected her personally. But how could I stand before another female, vow commitment, when my true mate had just brushed past me like a ghost and felt nothing?

“Alpha,” Callen called again.

Slowly, I nodded. “Right. Good.” My voice was a growl, my throat dry.

I took a step forward, then stopped. “Callen,” I said suddenly.

“Yes?”

I blinked hard, trying to ground myself back into reality, but her image wouldn’t leave me. That bowing. That silence. That bone-thin frame.

Why was she just a maid in this mansion where I was meant to collect my bride—some arranged political alliance that suddenly made even less sense than it had this morning?

How was I supposed to go through with it now? How the hell could I bring another woman back to my pack when my mate might’ve just run away from me, completely unaware of what she was?

Callen was looking at me expectantly and I remembered I was going to say something.

“There was a maid,” I began, the words catching in my throat. “We... collided. Reddish brown or ginger hair. Very thin. She smells like... jasmine. Like Honey.” I cursed under my breath. “She’s not part of the bridal welcome. She ran.”

Callen tilted his head, confused but listening.

“I want her found,” I continued. “Bring her along with the bride. Tell no one else.”

“Alpha—”

“Do it.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t question me again. “Understood.”

“Good.”

I turned and walked toward the exit. The door shut behind me, but the scent of her followed me. The feel of her skin on mine haunted my hand. Her image lingered like a phantom, etched into my mind.

Mate.

The word echoed again, softer this time.

And the way my wolf was growling and pacing now, practically vibrating inside me, told me this wasn’t some trick of the bond. This was real.

So why hadn’t she felt it?

Why hadn't she said anything?

Possessiveness clawed through me, dark and primal. She was mine. That much I knew. The wolf didn’t lie.

But the bond had been tampered with.

Was it rejection? Has some bastard broken her already?

Or was she cursed, locked in her own soul?

I didn’t know which option was worse.

But I was going to find out.