Chapter Two: The Pull of Fate
1472 Words
Darkness swallowed Lucian, the stone’s pulse throbbing in his hand like a second heartbeat.
One moment, he was in the shattered dorm, caught between Marcus’s accusations and Angel’s
desperate plea. The next, he was somewhere else—somewhere cold, damp, and reeking of
earth and blood. The stone’s glow faded, leaving him in near-total blackness, the only sound his
ragged breathing.
He stumbled forward, hands outstretched, until his fingers brushed rough stone walls. A tunnel.
His wrist burned where Angel had marked him, the crescent scar pulsing in rhythm with his
heart. Her words echoed in his mind: *“Run, Lucian. Don’t look back.”* But Marcus’s warning cut
deeper: *“She’s the one who betrayed you to the pack.”* Who was she to him? Savior or traitor?
And why did his body ache for her presence, even now?
A faint light flickered ahead, and he moved toward it, each step heavier than the last. The air
grew thicker, charged with a primal energy that made his skin prickle. He emerged into a
cavern, its walls carved with ancient symbols that glowed faintly, casting eerie shadows. At its
center stood a stone altar, stained dark with what could only be blood. And there, leaning
against it, was Angel.
Her leather jacket was torn, blood streaking her arm, but she stood tall, her eyes locking onto
his with a mix of relief and fear. “You’re alive,” she breathed, stepping toward him. “I wasn’t sure
the stone would work.”
Lucian’s hand tightened around the stone, his other fist clenching. “Stay back,” he snapped, his
voice echoing off the walls. “Marcus said you betrayed me. That *you* marked me for the pack.
Tell me he’s lying.”
Angel froze, pain flashing across her face. “Lucian, I—”
“Tell me!” he roared, his voice breaking. The mark on his wrist flared, and a surge of heat
coursed through him, sharpening his senses. He could hear her heartbeat, fast and unsteady,
smell the wildflower-and-iron scent of her. And beneath it all, a pull—an undeniable, soul-deep
connection that terrified him.
She took a cautious step closer, her gray-blue eyes searching his. “I marked you,” she admitted,
her voice soft but steady. “But not to betray you. I did it to save you. The pack was already
hunting you, Lucian. The mark binds us—our fates. It’s the only thing keeping you hidden from
them.”
“Binds us?” He laughed bitterly, holding up his wrist. “This thing’s a beacon, Angel. It’s why they
found me. Why my friends are probably dead right now. You expect me to believe you’re on my
side?”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “Your friends are alive. I made sure of it. And the
mark isn’t just a beacon—it’s a claim. A fated bond. You feel it, don’t you? The way your heart
races when I’m near, the way you can’t stop thinking about me, even when you want to hate
me?”
Lucian’s breath caught. She was right. Even now, standing in this blood-soaked cavern, he felt
it—a magnetic pull that made him want to close the distance between them, to touch her, to
trust her. But trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford. “Fated bond?” he said, voice low. “Sounds
like a cage.”
Angel’s eyes softened, but her voice held an edge. “It’s not a cage. It’s a vow. One I made a
century ago, when we first fell in love. You don’t remember, but I do. You were my mate,
Lucian—my fated mate. And I’ve spent decades trying to protect you from the pack that wants
you dead.”
Her words hit him like a punch. Mate. Love. A century ago. His mind reeled, memories he didn’t
have clawing at the edges of his consciousness. “You’re lying,” he whispered, but his voice
lacked conviction. The mark pulsed, and for a fleeting moment, he saw her—not as she was
now, but in a different time, her hair braided with flowers, laughing under a moonlit sky. The
vision vanished, leaving him dizzy.
“I’m not lying,” Angel said, stepping closer. “Your parents hid you in the human world to keep
you safe. They broke the law—wolf and demon blood mixing is forbidden. You’re the result, and
the pack sees you as a threat. But I see you as mine.”
Her words stirred something primal in him, but before he could respond, the cavern shook. Dust
rained from the ceiling, and a low growl reverberated through the stone. Angel’s head snapped
toward the tunnel. “They’re here,” she hissed. “The pack found us.”
Lucian’s heart pounded. “How? The stone—”
“It’s not perfect,” she cut in, grabbing his arm. “Come on!”
They sprinted down another tunnel, the growls growing louder, closer. Lucian’s senses
sharpened—too sharp. He could smell the wolves now, their musky scent laced with blood lust.
His body felt wrong, too strong, too fast. “What’s happening to me?” he gasped, his voice
rougher, almost a growl.
Angel glanced back, her eyes wide. “Your blood’s waking up. The mark’s triggering it. You’re not
human, Lucian—not fully. You’re wolf. And demon.”
The words barely registered before a massive shape burst from the shadows—a werewolf,
larger than the one in the dorm, its fur silver and matted with blood. It lunged at Angel, but
Lucian moved without thinking, tackling it mid-air. They hit the ground hard, his strength
shocking him as he pinned the beast. His nails sharpened, digging into its flesh, and a snarl tore
from his throat.
“Lucian, stop!” Angel shouted, pulling him off. The wolf scrambled up, but she drove a silver
dagger into its chest, and it collapsed, shifting back into a human form—a man with lifeless
eyes.
Lucian stared, horrified. “I… I did that?”
“You’re waking,” Angel said, grabbing his hand. “We need to move.”
They ran, but the tunnel ended at a heavy iron door. Angel pressed her palm against it,
muttering words Lucian didn’t understand. The door glowed, then swung open, revealing a
forest under a blood-red moon. They stumbled out, but the howls followed, closer now.
“We can’t outrun them,” Lucian said, his voice steady despite the fear. “What’s the plan?”
Angel turned to him, her expression grim. “There’s a safehouse nearby. If we reach it, I can
contact my allies. But we need to split up—they’ll follow me, not you.”
“No way,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m not leaving you.”
Her eyes softened, but she shook her head. “You don’t have a choice. The pack’s alpha—my
father—wants you for a ritual. If he catches us together, he’ll use me to break you. Go, Lucian.
Trust me.”
The fated mate bond pulsed between them, urging him to stay, but her plea was laced with
desperation. He nodded, hating himself for it. “Where’s the safehouse?”
“North, by the river. You’ll feel it—your blood will guide you.” She pressed a small vial into his
hand. “Drink this if you’re cornered. It’ll hide your scent.”
Before he could argue, she kissed him—hard, fierce, a promise and a goodbye. The bond
flared, searing his soul, and then she was gone, sprinting into the trees, her form blurring into
shadow.
Lucian ran north, the vial cold in his hand, the mark burning. The howls faded, but a new sound
replaced them—footsteps, deliberate and close. He spun, expecting wolves, but it was Marcus,
his suit pristine despite the chaos. His smile was a blade.
“Poor Lucian,” Marcus said, circling him. “She didn’t tell you, did she? Angel’s not just the
alpha’s daughter. She’s promised to another—a prince of the demon clans. Your fated mate is
already bound by an arranged marriage. And you? You’re just a pawn in her game.”
Lucian’s heart stopped. The vial slipped from his fingers, shattering on the ground. Angel,
promised to someone else? The bond screamed she was his, but Marcus’s words twisted like a
knife. Was their connection a lie? Before he could speak, Marcus raised a hand, and the forest
exploded with wolves, their eyes locked on Lucian.
“Time to choose, forbidden child,” Marcus said. “Fight for a mate who’s already lost—or run, and
lose everything.”
- Writer
