An Angel's awakening

Chapter Ten

Lucien's POV

It was that time of year again — the long circuit through neighboring territories to renew our ally treaties. Every year, without fail, my mother and my sister insisted this would be the one. This would be the year I found my Goddess-given mate.

And every year, I returned alone.

At twenty-nine, that fact followed me like a shadow. Wolves usually found their mates by twenty — sometimes sooner. By now, the whispers had started. Pity, curiosity, concern. I told myself I didn’t care, but some nights, beneath the weight of the moon, I wondered if the Moon Goddess had simply decided I wasn’t worthy of that kind of bond. Of that kind of love.

I was a good Alpha. Kind when I could be. Fair when it mattered. But when it came to my pack’s safety, mercy had limits. There was no line I wouldn’t cross, no sin I wouldn’t shoulder, if it meant keeping my people alive. Maybe that was my flaw. Maybe that was the price.

Cole drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easy like this was just another routine crossing. The moment we passed the Vale pack border, something in my chest tightened. Not pain — awareness. The air inside the truck felt heavier, charged in a way that made my skin prickle. Theo next to me cracking jokes like they're going out of style.

Stop, Silas growled suddenly, pacing hard beneath my ribs.

I glanced out the window, eyes tracking the blur of forest rushing past us. “What is it?” I muttered, keeping my voice low.

Silas didn’t answer right away. His attention wasn’t on Kael’s territory, or the pack lands we were heading toward. It was… elsewhere. She’s here, he said finally, the certainty in his voice stealing the breath from my lungs. On this land. But not with the Alpha. Not near the den.

My heart skipped. “That’s not possible.”

It is, he snapped, restless now — not alarmed, but drawn. I can feel her. Faint. Distant. Like a thread pulled tight across my chest.

I leaned back in my seat, fingers curling unconsciously. The Vale pack had been stable for years. Kael was unmated. No announcements. No rumors.

And yet, something ancient inside me had just woken up.

Kael was waiting out front when we pulled up to the packhouse, broad frame relaxed, posture easy in the way only an Alpha secure in his territory could manage. The moment I stepped out, he grinned and clasped my forearm, pulling me into a rough embrace like we hadn’t spent the last year separated by borders and responsibilities.

“Lucien,” he said warmly. “Good to see you.”

“Still standing,” I replied, returning the grip. “You look well.”

We exchanged the usual pleasantries before heading inside, Cole, Theo, and Kael’s Gamma trailing behind us as we moved toward the Alpha’s office. It was all familiar—dark wood, clean lines, the quiet hum of a pack running smoothly. We sat across from one another, documents spread out between us, and fell into the rhythm of duty. Trade routes, grain and livestock exchanges, shared patrol rotations along the northern border. Joint warrior training in late autumn. Everything was efficient. Logical. Necessary.

And yet, with every minute that passed, my focus frayed.

The pull hadn’t faded. If anything, it had sharpened—an invisible tether tugging at my chest, tightening whenever the wind shifted or a distant door opened. It wasn’t coming from Kael, or anyone in this building. It was out there. Somewhere beyond the packhouse walls. Close enough to feel. Far enough to deny.

Silas stirred, irritated now. You’re wasting time, he growled. She’s on this land.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my attention back to the papers in front of me, to the calm, steady voice of the Alpha across the desk. This wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the place. I had treaties to sign, alliances to maintain.

But frustration crept in all the same—hot and unwelcome.

Because for the first time in nine years as Alpha, something was pulling my focus away from duty.

And I didn’t like it.

The meeting stretched longer than it needed to.

Not because Kael was inefficient—if anything, he was precise to the point of perfection—but because my attention kept splintering. We moved on to winter supply contingencies, shared emergency routes through the eastern ridge, protocols if rogue activity increased along the river line. I contributed where expected, signed where necessary, nodded at the right moments.

But every so often, my gaze drifted—to the window, to the door, to nothing at all.

The pull came in slow waves now. Not sharp. Not urgent. Just… persistent. Like a hand resting against my chest, patient and unyielding.

Silas pressed against my control, restless. Too close, he muttered. She’s close.

I shut him down hard enough to make him recoil. Focus.

Kael noticed anyway. His eyes narrowed a fraction, head tilting as if he could hear something I couldn’t. Alpha instinct recognizing disturbance in another.

“You’re distracted,” he said mildly.

“Long drive,” I replied smoothly. “Borders were clear. Just fatigue.”

Kael studied me for another heartbeat, then let it go. “We can finish the rest later. You, your Beta and your Gamme are welcome to stretch your legs. Let your wolves run.”

Relief hit harder than it should have.

Cole and I left the packhouse behind, heading toward the open woodland beyond the inner perimeter. The air shifted the moment we crossed into less structured territory—wilder, thicker with scent and memory. Cole rolled his shoulders, already loosening, a grin pulling at his mouth.

“About damn time,” he muttered. “Your wolf’s been pacing my skull since we crossed the border.”

I huffed out a breath. “Mine too.”

We didn’t say more. Words weren’t necessary for this.

The shift came easy—bones snapping, skin rolling, the familiar rush of power as the world exploded into scent and sound. Silas surged forward the moment he had form, massive and controlled, his silver coat catching the filtered light as he hit the forest floor.

We ran.

At first, it was just release—speed, muscle, the joy of movement after restraint. Cole’s wolf stayed near, matching pace, cutting wide loops through the trees. Theo flanked my left and followed every move. But Silas began to angle without conscious command. A subtle change in direction. Then another.

I didn’t question it.

Didn’t stop him.

The forest thickened, scents layering—pine, damp earth, distant water. And then—

Her.

It wasn’t a smell I could define. Not fully. Just recognition. My chest tightened, breath stuttering even as we ran, Silas slowing despite himself.

There, he whispered, reverent now. She’s here.

Not the packhouse. Not the heart of Vale territory.

Somewhere quiet. Isolated.

Waiting.