All Chapters of Alpha’s Dark Redemption : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Lucas's POVThe silence in the car felt like I’d left a window open, something cold and unfinished crawling over my arms even with Selina’s scent thick in my head. We didn’t talk when I started the engine. That was new. Lately the only time Sel and I managed not to claw at each other was when we were naked, and even then we made a goddamn sport of biting first.But the thing was, for the first time in months, it felt like we’d both gotten something out of it. Not romance, nothing soft or poetic. That would be a fucking miracle. It was more like a wound you get used to picking at until the pain becomes familiar. So I didn’t say anything as I took the first right out of the councilman’s compound, as the foggy hush of the trees swallowed us, the lights of the city proper bleeding out behind. My hands on the wheel were steady, but my eyes kept snaking sidelong to where Selina sat, arms crossed, lips a little raw, and a bright, purpling bruise already rising on her neck. A hickey she got f

Lucas's POVI called Grant first, because even now, years after I’d claimed Alpha, his loyalty was the one thing I never had to question. Vera answered for him, her voice husky from sleep and vape smoke, the way it always was, even in the middle of the night.“Lucas. This better be good,” she said.I told her to meet me at the house. Bring Grant. I didn’t bother to say it was urgent—she’d hear it in my voice.Selina was waiting in the kitchen, perched on the edge of the counter with her knees up, her dark hair still wet from the shower. She didn’t look at me when I came in, just kept scraping her nails along the tiled edge, the delicate rasp shivering down my spine. She wore one of my shirts, unbuttoned, and nothing else. Even after all these months, that sight still twisted my guts up.She didn’t ask what was going on. If she didn’t already know, it was because she didn’t care.I poured a glass of whiskey and slid it to her. She didn’t touch it. We waited.Grant and Vera let themselv

Selina's POVI wasn’t a bad mother. Not really. Not in the ways that mattered. Damon had food, clothing, a fire-warmed bed, and a birthright sharp as my own canines. He didn’t need love. Or rather, he didn’t need it often. Wolves survived on discipline and pride, not coddling. But the way he clung to the legs of passing omegas and sniffed at every passing mutt’s attention like a puppy at a bitch’s teat said otherwise.He was getting weird. Too soft, too needy, too much like he was some sort of human. Only humans had such emotions. So I scheduled an afternoon, as if he were a business meeting or a problematic subordinate. Selina and Damon, away from the pack’s eyes. A picnic. Which, now that I was carrying the basket through ankle-twisting bramble and trying not to lose sight of his darting, pale silhouette, felt about as natural as painting my claws with pastel lacquer.Damon had already found the clearing, and was squatting in the center, prodding at some half-dead snake with a stick

Lucas's POVI’d been pacing holes into the hardwood. My feet had tracked the same figure-eight through the office for hours, a groove worn by impatience and the stink of my own failure. Three days since I spoke to Selina and every time I try to speak to my son he still hadn’t said a word. Not a single “dad,” not a whimper for his mother, not even a sniveling snot-nosed whine, which I would’ve killed for.None of this was fucking right.The window over the desk was open but it let in nothing but thick heat, stale and pollen-stuffed, and the constant whir of late cicadas. Out on the main drag, the distant pulse of engines and laughter: summer’s last gasp before the September frost. I didn’t hear any of it. My head was a locked cell and the only thing that echoed inside was Carr’s name.Carr.The man had to be behind Damon’s kidnapping—there was no other explanation. I’d run the possibilities every way: money, sex, power, old blood feuds. I’d played every scenario in my head until the se

Lucas's POVSince my six-year-old shifted, I couldn’t focus on anything. Every time I closed my eyes I saw him curled up in the back room, wild and trembling, not a child anymore but a streak of silver fur in the darkness. Maybe it was the strain of single parenting, maybe it was my genetic fuckups coming home to roost, but he was too young—six is barely a person, let alone a wolf. It left me jumpy, ragged, and unable to do the bare minimum for the pack, which, in this case, meant keeping Carr’s greasy fingers off our territory and keeping the Sykes out of the council’s pants.I’d barely gotten my hands around my second mug of burnt coffee when the knock came on my study door. I didn’t answer. There wasn’t a point—he’d come in anyway. Grant was like that. Bull through a fence, always had been.He didn’t even hesitate. The door snapped open, and there he was, shirt half-buttoned, jaw clenched tight. “Lucas, why did your son shift at six years?” He barked, and it wasn’t a question so mu