Blood in the Shadows

He hadn’t bled in years.

Not from wounds, at least.

The cut on Lucien’s palm was shallow, but it dripped crimson across the cold marble like a warning. It wept through the cracks of shattered glass, mingling with the last remnants of whiskey.

Still, he didn’t feel it.

The pain came from somewhere else.

His eyes stayed fixed on the screen.

A single image burned there like a brand across his chest.

Elaina Rivers.

Captured mid-laugh outside the hospital, umbrella in one hand, a takeaway coffee in the other. Daisy stood beside her, all sunshine and stories.

But it wasn’t her smile that chilled him.

It was what stood behind her.

A figure, half-swallowed by shadow. Too still. Too wrong.

And eyes that glowed—not with life. But with hunger.

Lucien’s phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Still think she’s safe?

---

Twelve Hours Earlier…

The storm came without warning.

Rain didn’t fall—it slammed against Blackthorn Tower like fists demanding entry. Thunder cracked like the gods were hunting something beneath the city.

Far below the shimmering corporate façade, buried under security vaults and memory-wiped hallways, a hidden room pulsed with tension.

The walls here weren’t steel. They were obsidian.

Cold. Silent. Witness to too many secrets.

Lucien stood at the head of the obsidian war table, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Black ink swirled across his arms—ancient sigils that looked like they had teeth. Some still moved when you weren’t looking directly at them.

Kade leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, mouth bitter. “This is what happens when you get sentimental.”

Lucien didn’t look up. “Sentiment didn’t carve symbols into the corpses of my men.”

He spread the photos across the table with surgeon-like precision. Blood-marked.

Each body posed, humiliated. Torn in the same way. The same message scorched into skin:

YOUR ALPHA IS WEAK.

Kade exhaled. “It’s personal.”

“It always is,” Lucien muttered.

He tapped the final photo—the one with the sigil burned deepest. The one that hadn’t been there ten years ago.

An ancient rune. Forbidden.

Older than Lycans.

Older than magic.

Kade shifted. “You know what that symbol is, don’t you?”

Lucien’s jaw locked. “I remember who used it last.”

“Then you also know they’re not just coming for you. They’re coming for her.”

He froze. Just for a second. A flicker in his breath.

Kade saw it.

“You’ve already made your choice, Lucien. The question is—will she survive it?”

Lucien turned away, hands braced against the table. His reflection stared back in the obsidian. Sharp eyes. Sharper regrets.

He should’ve let her go the first time.

But he didn’t.

Because she burned too brightly.

And he was already too far gone.

---

Across the city…

High on a rooftop that touched the clouds, a woman crouched beneath a rusted gargoyle, cloaked in midnight leather.

Through her scope, she tracked Elaina Rivers with a sniper’s calm.

Innocent. Warm. Unaware of what slithered through the shadows around her.

The lamb still thinks she’s in the garden, the woman thought. But the wolves have dug up the roots.

Her comm crackled.

A voice slithered through, distorted and cold.

“Is the key in position?”

“She is,” the woman whispered. “And the Alpha’s mask is slipping.”

A pause. Then—

“Good. Let him break. Let her bleed. That’s how the curse feeds.”

The comm went silent.

The woman didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

She was the storm’s first fang.

And the first taste was always the sweetest.

---

Back at Blackthorn Tower…

The war room emptied. But Lucien remained.

He stood at the wall of glass, rain blurring the lights beyond.

His breath fogged the window.

He could still see her there. Elaina. In his office. Fire in her eyes. No fear in her voice.

He’d built walls to keep everything out. But she’d walked straight through them like they weren’t even real.

And now—

Now, every instinct screamed.

Every ward flickered.

Every breath felt like a countdown.

He had to let her go.

To keep her safe.

But it was already too late for that.

She wasn’t just in his world anymore.

She was his world.

---

Later That Night…

Lightning lit the skyline like a warning.

Blackthorn’s penthouse sat silent, lights dimmed, whiskey low, war rising.

Lucien sat alone. Shirt unbuttoned. Bandage wrapped clumsily around his bleeding hand.

He hadn’t healed.

He hadn’t tried to.

Because pain kept him sharp.

The phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: She’s being watched.

Another buzz.

A photo.

Grainy. Clear enough.

Elaina—smiling.

Behind her—

A figure. Red eyes. No soul.

He stared at the screen.

A slow rage built inside his chest. Cold at first. Then volcanic.

His grip tightened.

Glass cracked—then exploded.

Blood trickled down his wrist.

But he didn’t feel it.

The only thing he felt…

Was war.

And they had just made one fatal mistake.

They didn’t just threaten a woman.

They didn’t just move against the Alpha.

They touched his mate.

And for that—

They would burn.