SELENAIt’s been three weeks since Lucian became Alpha of Bloodfang again.Three long, tender, strange weeks.The pack was slowly healing—stitched back together with unspoken hopes, quiet strength, and Lucian’s silent but firm leadership. People walked straighter now. The training fields buzzed again with the sound of steel clashing and warriors barking orders. Children ran through the village square. And at night, the great fires burned in the halls once more.As for us—we moved into the Alpha’s house.It still felt surreal. The walls held the scent of old memories. I had never stepped into this place before as anything other than a slave. But now… now Lucian had taken me by the hand and led me to the Luna’s chamber—once his mother’s sanctuary, quiet and untouched all these years.He hadn’t officially announced me as Luna yet. The words hadn’t been spoken to the pack. But the room he placed me in, the way the guards stood taller when I passed, the way the maids bowed lower, the rever
LUCIANThe sun was climbing steadily, warm light filtering through the trees like strands of gold draped over the land. The pack was beginning to stir—low chatter, footsteps, the occasional bark of orders echoing across the compound—but none of it reached me.I sat beneath the old ash tree near the eastern wall, where the moss grew thick and the roots curled like sleeping wolves. I used to come here as a younger wolf when everything felt too loud. Now, old—and whatever else I had become—I came for the same reason. To think. To hide. To breathe.The bark pressed rough against my back. The air smelled of dew and earth, but it couldn’t ground the weight inside my chest. I closed my eyes.Adrian’s voice was immediate.“Go and take the position of Alpha of your pack… that’s the first step to peace.”I hadn’t paid much attention to what he meant at first. But now, with everything unraveling and the weight of the secret, heavy on me, it was clear.This was what Adrian had been pushing toward
He didn’t tell me what happened.Not before the messenger arrived.Not before the elders summoned him.I had been waiting.I stayed in his room at the quarters, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the door like it might move on its own. I kept listening for his footsteps—slow, heavy, familiar. For the sound of his knuckles against the wood. For his presence.But the knock never came.Evening crept in slowly, like it was trying not to be noticed. The light from the window shifted from gold to amber, then faded into grey. I hadn’t lit the lamp. I didn’t want to move. As the shadows deepened, I kept my eyes on the door, heart pounding with each echo in the hallway, only to be met with silence again.Still, I waited.Like I had been waiting since the moment he stepped back through the gates of Bloodfang. Alive, but altered. Stronger, yes—but quieter. A little darker. He had returned from Shadowfang, but not all of him had come back. Some part of him still lived in the ashes he had wa
LucianI stepped into the council hall.The door creaked shut behind me with a dull thud, swallowing the outside world whole. The scent of old timber, burnt sage, and wolf musk wrapped around me like smoke. It was warmer inside, but not in a way that comforted. The warmth here felt ceremonial—ritualistic—like the heat from a funeral pyre, not a hearth. It settled against my skin like judgment.They were already waiting.Elder Damon stood to the right, his arms folded behind his back, his long grey braid tucked neatly over one shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. His stare was like stone—measured, unreadable, the kind of gaze that weighed not only your words, but your bloodline and the footsteps that brought you here. Beside him sat Elder Mirah, poised with the stillness of a predator, her hands folded in her lap, her back straight as a spear. Her silver eyes watched me, sharp enough to cut flesh and see what lay beneath it.And to her left—Tobias, Bran, and Kael—silent, ancient, th
Lucian Her words—you haven’t exactly been close—hung in the air like a stone between us. I had no answer. Not one that wouldn’t bruise her. Not one that wouldn’t unravel everything.A long silence stretched out. I shifted my weight. The back of my neck itched with heat, but I didn’t move. She didn’t look away.She just sat there, quiet and still, as if giving me the space to speak.But I didn’t.And maybe that was when she knew.Her next words came softly, but they held more weight than anything she’d ever said to me.“Lucian…” she breathed, her voice steady despite the ache buried inside it, “what happened in Shadowfang?”There it was.The question I’d been running from.My spine went rigid. I couldn’t breathe for a second. It felt like someone had pressed a blade to my chest—not hard enough to cut, but enough to remind me how close I was to bleeding.Her eyes met mine, unwavering. Not accusing. Not angry.Just… searching.She wasn’t yelling. She wasn’t breaking down. That would’ve
Lucian The morning air was crisp, laced with the sharp scent of pine, damp soil, and the lingering musk of wolves who had already shifted and gone out for their first run. Cold dew clung to the earth, soaking into the soles of my boots as I stepped outside the warriors’ quarters. My breath came out in thin clouds. The sky was still pale, just brushing light at the edges.Somewhere near the main fire pit, a pot clanged against stone. Voices murmured low—warriors exchanging greetings, grunts, short laughs. Somewhere farther off, metal clashed with metal. The rhythm of early training.But I barely noticed any of it.My mind was elsewhere. It had been this way, for days now.I moved quietly across the camp, my body following the path to the training ground like it had every morning since I returned from Shadowfang. It was muscle memory by now. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, quiet but restless. He didn’t crave battle. Not really. He just wanted to move, to burn off what neither of us co