Chapter 6
782 Words
Lucian’s POV
Sleep never came.
Every time Lucian closed his eyes, he saw her—standing by the river, light spilling through her hair like spun gold, her gaze piercing straight through the armor he’d built around himself.
He’d left her there. Walked away like a coward. And yet, the scent of her still haunted him, soft and relentless, clinging to his senses no matter how he tried to push it away.
By dawn, the restlessness was unbearable. Ragnar hadn’t stopped pacing inside him since that moment in the forest. The wolf’s anger burned like fire beneath his skin.
You left her.
The words rumbled in his mind, heavy and accusing.
You turned your back on what’s ours.
Lucian clenched his jaw, ignoring him. He stood at the window of his room, watching the early fog rise over Moonfang territory. The village below was waking—warriors heading for drills, pups chasing each other through the yard—but none of it felt real.
“I did what I had to,” he muttered under his breath. “We can’t afford this now.”
Mate. Ragnar’s voice was low and dangerous. You know what she is to us. You can’t just walk away.
Lucian shut his eyes. The word still sent a pulse of heat through his chest, and that scared him more than anything. A mate meant distraction. Weakness. Vulnerability. And he couldn’t afford that—not when his father was still watching his every move, not when the packs hovered on the edge of conflict.
“She’s Silvermist,” he said quietly. “They’d never trust me, and I can’t trust them. Not yet.”
Ragnar growled, furious. Excuses. The Moon doesn’t care about borders.
Lucian turned away from the window, shoving the connection down with sheer will. The last thing he needed was to start longing for something he couldn’t have.
---
Hours later, when the sun was fully up, a sharp knock echoed against his door.
Lucian didn’t need to ask who it was. Only one man in the entire pack entered his quarters without permission.
Darius stepped inside, his presence filling the room like smoke—heavy, suffocating, impossible to ignore. He still moved like an Alpha, though that title had passed to Lucian weeks ago.
“You’ve been up early,” Darius said, his tone smooth but calculating. His sharp eyes swept over Lucian, reading every flicker of emotion. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Lucian shrugged. “Too much on my mind.”
Darius hummed, unconvinced but uninterested in pressing. “Good. That means you’re thinking like a leader. We have business to discuss.”
He walked to the table, setting down a folded set of papers bound with a wax seal. “Alpha Magnus from Riverdale reached out again. He’s ready to finalize the trading agreement.”
Lucian stiffened. “Magnus?”
“Yes,” Darius said, a thin smile forming. “He’s ambitious, greedy, and just clever enough to think he can outsmart us. Which makes him useful.”
Lucian’s brow furrowed. “He’s not trustworthy. You know that as well as I do.”
“Of course he’s not,” Darius said simply. “That’s why he’s easy to control. He wants profit, and we’ll give him enough to think he’s winning. In return, we’ll get access to Riverdale’s trade routes and their silver supply.”
Lucian crossed his arms, his tone cool but edged. “You mean you’ll get control.”
Darius looked at him then, his smile thinning. “Everything I do, I do for this pack. For you.”
Lucian didn’t respond. They both knew it was a lie.
The older man studied him for a long moment, his gaze sharp. “You seem distracted,” he said finally. “Your thoughts are elsewhere.”
Lucian’s pulse skipped, but his face stayed impassive. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” Darius turned away, his voice light, but there was steel beneath it. “Stay that way. Distractions make you weak, and weakness kills an Alpha faster than a blade.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. When Darius left, the door shut with a soft click that sounded far too final.
He let out a long breath and leaned against the edge of the table. Ragnar was quiet now, simmering beneath the surface—hurt, furious, betrayed.
Lucian stared out the window again, the afternoon sun spilling across the distant treetops. Somewhere beyond that horizon, she was out there. His mate. His undoing.
He told himself he’d made the right choice. That waiting was wise. That peace had to come first.
But deep down, even he didn’t believe it.
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- Writer
