Lucian's Regret Novel Free Novels & Stories

“Jensen… sorry…” Her eyes were red as she raised her hand and slapped herself. “I am sorry… I regretted it for the past three years… please forgive me. Please look at me one more time…” I rolled down the window halfway and looked at her with a cold expression. “Chelsea, do you think it is appropriate to say this in front of my wife? Do not come near me and disgust me again. I do not want to see you. Do not insult the word regret. You do not deserve it.”

I stumbled back, my hand hitting the doorframe. "I never loved you. I never wanted you. I never regretted losing you." He stepped toward me, his voice cold and deliberate. "The only thing I regretted was not getting what I wanted sooner. You were nothing but a stepping stone, Ymir. A tool. And now that you've outlived your usefulness, I have no more use for you." I stared at him. The man I had loved. The man I had grieved. The man who had knelt in the garden and begged for forgiveness.

* Lucian's sturdy body crashed to the ground. Zi! Zi! Zi! Zi! Zi! For a moment, a large amount of blood spurted out from Lucian's head. Before he died, Lucian widened his eyes. He had never dreamed that he would die in this life-and-death battle in the end. He died with everlasting regret. Lucian truly died with an everlasting regret. Clang! At this moment, Dragon's Wrath was covered with blood, which dripped down along the blade and onto the ground.

“No. Truth will.” Lucian stood nearby. Silent. Watching. Damon turned toward him sharply. “Say something.” Lucian’s jaw tightened, but he did not speak. The silence was worse than denial. Damon’s voice dropped lower. “Tell him he is wrong.” Lucian finally looked up. But the look in his eyes held something Damon had never seen before. Regret. Damon felt the ground shift beneath him. “You knew?” he asked quietly. Lucian did not answer immediately. Then he said softly, “I learned recently.”

*** That same Night - Lucian’s Apartment Lucian sat alone in the dark, listening again to the nurse’s voice memo he had recorded without permission. The words kept playing like a broken record, hurting his already aching heart more and more. He gripped the edge of the table tightly. He had stood on the wrong side of Isla’s war. And now he wasn’t sure how to fix it. He didn't know how to ask for her forgiveness. He didn't know how to mend what he broke. He picked up his phone and called her.

Ayra burned the toast, they argued over the seasoning, and somehow, it was perfect. Later, as they sat on the floor beside the dusty fireplace—blankets wrapped around their shoulders, music playing low from Lucian’s phone—Ayra leaned into his chest and closed her eyes. “Do you ever regret it?” she asked. Lucian ran a hand through her hair. “What?” “All of it. The explosions. The lies. The power. Losing it all.” He was quiet for a long time. “No,” he said finally. “Because for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m living instead of performing.”

His resentment was a palpable force, tangible and suffocating. My composure faltering for a moment I held his gaze with a mix of regret and defiance. "I never wanted this," I whispered, my voice filled with a tinge of remorse. "I didn't understand the true consequences of my actions. But I swear to you, Lucian, I will find a way to break this curse. I will set you free." My words hung in the air; a promise laced with determination. But to Lucian, they were hollow, mere words that offered no solace for the torment he endured. His nostrils flared as he fought to contain the fury within him.

But it was done and the worst part was that he didn’t regret it, no matter how much he tried to, he didn’t regret it. Exasperated, Lucian leaned forward in the sink of that luxury bathroom and gave himself a couple of seconds. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and wasn’t able to recognize himself. He was shirtless, with the well worked abdomen exposed. The lines of his face were as perfect as the color of his eyes. What he was experiencing was something that he had never felt before. If only he could close his eyes and get back to California, being in front of his desk, working as always while she was in her room with her son, laughing and invading the house with their happiness.

“That has been puzzling me, but still I know very well that it was my mistake for not going prepared that caused her death; else she'll still be alive.” “I promised her, Novela. She asked me to save her, and I assured her that I would definitely get away from Raphael, but I failed”. Lucian hits the table hard, thinking about his promise and how he still couldn't save her at all, the memory of how he stood just staring at the car as it burned with her inside, unable to do anything. Novela, staring at Lucian, could tell he was already filled with anger and rage. She hadn't seen him like this ever, and now the incident had brought out the side of him that didn't seem good.

"I just think… he might truly regret it." "He deserves it," Damian's voice was devoid of emotion. "When he publicly rejected you two years ago, did he consider your feelings?" "Now that he regrets it, why should you forgive him?" "Elena," Damian cupped my face. His kisses landed on my brow, my nose, my lips. "You are my Luna, my only one." "You don't need to worry about anyone else's feelings. As long as I'm by your side, you can do whatever you want." "Understand?"