A War Between Us

There was blood on Lucien's cuff.

Not fresh. Barely a smear. But enough.

He hadn't noticed until the morning light hit his wrist as he adjusted his sleeve, revealing the dark red line like a secret that refused to be buried.

His jaw clenched.

It wasn't his.

And it had nothing to do with Elaina.

That was the problem.

He hadn't had time to clean up the mess he made last night. Not after her.

She'd said she loved him. In the same breath that reeked of defiance and devotion.

He should've erased her memory. He should've ended it.

But he hadn't.

And now?

She was becoming a reason.

And that was dangerous.

He turned away from the window as the door to his office creaked open.

Elaina stepped into his office, the door creaking slightly as she pushed it open. She had barely slept. Her eyes were slightly puffy, but she held her chin high, determined.

Lucien stood behind his desk, every inch the icy CEO king—impeccably dressed, emotionless, still.

He didn't look up.

"I knocked," she said. "Twice. You just didn't answer. Typical."

Lucien didn't turn. He didn't have to.

"Lucien," she said softly.

Still nothing.

Her fingers gripped the folder in her hands. "I just… I wanted to—"

"Leave."

One word. Sharp. Brutal.

She flinched. "I… what?"

"Elaina," he said, voice flat, cold. "This is not the time."

"Then tell me when is the time," she snapped. "When I'm dead? When you finally decide I'm too much of a liability to let live?"

He slowly turned.

Her eyes landed on the smear of dried blood on his wrist, and her brows drew together. But she said nothing.

Yet.

He caught the flicker of suspicion.

Damn it.

"What do you want from me?" he asked.

Her hands curled at her sides. "You know what I want. I said it yesterday."

"And now I tell you I don't want you."

"No," she said. "You are telling me you don't want me. That's not the same."

Lucien walked to his desk with slow, deliberate steps, every inch of him unreadable. Controlled. Distant.

"Love makes people weak," he said, facing her. "I don't do weak."

"I'm not asking you to do anything," she said. "I'm just asking you not to lie."

He raised a brow. "Lie?"

"I saw your face yesterday. After I said it." She stepped closer. "You felt something. Even if it was just for a second. And now you're acting like none of it happened."

"Elaina, I'm not the man you think I am."

"Then show me who you are," she challenged.

He went still. For a beat too long.

She didn't know how close she was to the truth. Or how fast that truth would ruin her.

"You want the truth?" he asked, voice suddenly low, dangerous. "Fine."

He stepped toward her, gaze sharp, jaw tight.

"I am not safe. I don't love. I don't feel. I don't belong to anyone. And I sure as hell don't let pretty little girls with delusions of love turn me into something soft."

A pause.

"Don't come here again."

Elaina blinked, hurt flashing in her eyes, but it was gone as fast as it came.

"Why now?" she asked quietly.

Lucien frowned.

"You've let me close. You've let me stay. So why push me away now, Lucien? What changed?"

He didn't answer.

Because she was right.

Something had changed.

She was in danger—not from him, but from what surrounded him. The secrets. The blood. The pack.

The moment she said she loved him, she became a vulnerability. One his enemies would exploit without hesitation.

He couldn't let that happen.

Couldn't let her die because he was too selfish to cut her loose.

"Elaina," he said, stepping back. "This thing you feel—it's not love. It's adrenaline. Proximity. Fantasy. You'll get over it."

"I won't," she said.

Her voice was quiet, but steady. Solid. It didn't shake. "I know what love feels like. And I know you're scared. But I'm not."

He laughed. Once. Darkly. "You should be."

"I'm not," she repeated. "And I won't be. You can lie to me all you want. Push me, threaten me, try to convince yourself I'm just a problem to be solved. But you and I both know the truth."

She took one last step toward him, close enough to see the flicker behind his eyes.

"You feel it too. You just don't know how to survive it."

Lucien turned away before she could see what that did to him.

"Don't come near me again," he said, voice empty.

She stood still for a moment longer, her fists clenched.

Then she turned, walked out, and slammed the door behind her.

---

Moments later…

Lucien stood frozen, every part of him trembling with restrained power.

He wanted to destroy something.

Not her.

Never her.

But everything else.

He poured himself a drink, gulping it down like water, but the burn in his throat couldn't match the ache in his chest.

Elaina had no idea what she was trying to love.

A monster.

An alpha werewolf with a heart forged in war.

A mafia heir with blood on his hands and a kingdom built on corpses.

She didn't belong in his world. If she stayed, she'd be marked. Hunted. Maybe worse.

And yet… she walked into his storm without flinching.

She said he was hers.

That dangerous part of him—the beast beneath the skin—liked that.

A little too much.

"I have to end this," Lucien whispered.

His voice trembled.

"I can't let her destroy me."

Because now, the wolves were circling. The council was watching. The mafia families were sniffing too close. One false move, one whisper of a weakness—and they'd use her to bring him to his knees.

She didn't know what he was protecting her from.

From himself.

From the beast beneath his skin.

From the weight of being Alpha.

From the ghosts that clawed at his legacy.

"Elaina," he muttered.

He'd pushed her away.

But something told him she wouldn't stay gone.

---

Somewhere down the corridor…

Elaina didn't cry.

Not this time.

She found an empty stairwell, leaned against the wall, and let the anger bubble just under her skin.

You'll fall for me, Lucien Blackbourne.

And when you do, I won't let you run.

She wiped her eyes, set her jaw, and smiled—just a little.

Game on.