Chapter 16
914 Words
— Lucian’s POV
The morning air bit at Lucian’s skin as he struck the training post again. And again.
Each impact sent a dull ache up his arms, but he welcomed the pain—it kept his thoughts from spiraling. Sweat slid down his temples and into his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinked hard, refusing to stop.
Ragnar was silent in his mind for once. Usually, the wolf growled, pushed, demanded. But now, his voice came softer—measured, almost human.
You can’t keep this up, Lucian.
Lucian tightened his fists and hit the post once more, the sound echoing through the empty yard.
I don’t have a choice.
There’s always a choice. You just don’t like the one that leads to her.
He ignored that. The thought of Myra—her scent of jasmine and pine, her eyes when they met his—was a distraction he couldn’t afford. Not when everything he’d built rested on keeping his emotions locked away.
Footsteps approached from behind. Kade’s voice broke the silence.
“Training before sunrise again? You’re starting to make the rest of us look lazy.”
Lucian didn’t turn around. “Maybe you should start waking earlier.”
Kade sighed, coming to stand beside him. He held a folder—one of Darius’s endless reports, no doubt.
“Your father’s been busy. Met with Magnus this morning,” Kade said. “They talked about merging patrol borders—and the possibility of strengthening ties through marriage.”
Lucian froze mid-motion. “Vanessa.”
Kade nodded carefully. “She’s… suitable. A political match like that could double our influence, Lucian. You’d have the Moonfang’s territory secured, and Magnus’s trade routes would be at your disposal. It’s what your father’s wanted since—”
“I’ve found my mate,” Lucian said quietly.
The words landed like a blade between them. Kade blinked, uncertain if he’d heard correctly. “Your… what?”
Lucian finally faced him, eyes cold but shadowed. “My mate.”
Kade searched his face, waiting for a hint of humor. None came. “Who?”
“She’s from Silvermist.”
The silence stretched. Kade’s brows drew together. “Silvermist? Lucian, that’s dangerous. Darius would never—”
“He doesn’t need to know,” Lucian cut in, voice sharp. “Not yet.”
Kade exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re serious.”
Lucian nodded once.
“What will you do?”
“Exactly what I’ve been doing,” Lucian said, stooping to pick up his towel. “Pretend I feel nothing.”
Kade didn’t argue, but the concern in his gaze was unmistakable. “Just be careful. Secrets like that have a way of surfacing when it hurts most.”
Lucian didn’t respond. He left the yard, the weight of Kade’s words trailing behind him.
---
By midday, the pack house was alive with movement. Warriors returned from patrols, omegas hurried through corridors carrying scrolls and supplies. Yet, as Lucian stepped inside, the world seemed to still.
His mother waited in the main hall, seated by the tall window with sunlight spilling over her silver hair. Lady Selene had a way of quieting any space she entered—not through dominance, but through grace.
“Lucian,” she said, her voice a melody he hadn’t realized he missed. “You look tired.”
“I’ve had worse days,” he replied, approaching.
She gestured to the seat across from her. “Sit. Before you wear the floor out with all that pacing you don’t think I notice.”
He hesitated, then sat. She poured tea—his, without sugar, hers, with a touch of honey. The smell of herbs filled the air.
“You’ve been restless,” she said softly, eyes on him but kind, not accusing. “Something’s shifting in you. I can feel it.”
“I’m fine.”
Her lips curved faintly. “You forget who taught you to lie.”
That drew a quiet huff of air—half sigh, half laugh.
She studied him a moment longer, then said, “When the Moon calls, it does not stop. You can’t silence what’s bound to your soul, no matter how hard you try.”
Lucian’s throat tightened. “If I give in to it, I risk everything I’ve built.”
“And if you don’t?”
He looked at her then—the first honest look in days. “Then I lose her.”
Selene’s expression softened. She reached across the table, her cool fingers brushing his hand. “There are worse fates than loving what your father forbids. Trust the Moon to weave what it must.”
He wanted to believe that. But belief had a cost, and he’d already paid too many.
---
That night, Lucian stood alone on the balcony outside his chambers. The forest stretched endlessly before him—dark, silent, familiar. Somewhere beyond those trees lay Silvermist. Somewhere out there, Myra.
Ragnar stirred, a low rumble in his chest. She feels you, you know.
Lucian’s fingers gripped the railing. “I know,” he murmured. “That’s what makes this harder.”
He closed his eyes, letting the wind carry the faint scent of pine and rain. When he spoke again, it was barely more than a whisper—
“Myra.”
The sound disappeared into the night, swallowed by the distance between them. But the ache in his chest told him she’d heard it—somehow.
---
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