Wolves Don’t Apologize
1505 Words
The room fell silent.
Elena felt her heartbeat pounding against her ribs.
“They found my father?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Adrian nodded once.
“But Viktor’s men got to him first.”
The words hit like a punch to the chest.
“No…”
She turned to Lucien.
“You said your men found him.”
“They did.”
“Then why didn’t they bring him here?”
Lucien’s expression remained unreadable.
“Because they arrived thirty seconds too late.”
Thirty seconds.
That was all it had taken for everything to change.
Elena shook her head.
“We have to go after him.”
“We already are.”
Lucien walked toward the door, fastening the buttons of his suit jacket.
“Adrian.”
“The convoy is ready.”
“Good.”
He turned back to Elena.
“You’re staying here.”
Her eyes widened.
“Absolutely not.”
“This isn’t a discussion.”
“It is if you’re talking about me.”
Lucien stepped closer.
His voice remained calm, but there was steel beneath every word.
“Viktor Sokolov has declared war.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
“My father is out there!”
“And walking into a battlefield won’t bring him back.”
She glared at him.
“You don’t get to decide what I do.”
“I already have.”
Frustration boiled over.
Before she could think better of it, Elena shoved him hard against the chest.
The room froze.
Every guard reached for a weapon.
Adrian closed his eyes briefly, as though silently praying for her.
No one…
No one laid hands on Lucien Devereaux.
Lucien didn’t move.
He looked down at the hand still pressed against his chest.
Then back at Elena.
Slowly…
He removed her hand and let it fall to her side.
“You’ve got courage,” he said quietly.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“That’s your second lie today.”
She clenched her jaw.
“If you think locking me in this mansion is going to stop me, you’re mistaken.”
Lucien studied her for a long moment.
Then he surprised everyone.
He smiled.
It wasn’t cruel.
It wasn’t mocking.
It was… amused.
“You remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
“Myself.”
Before Elena could respond, a phone buzzed in Lucien’s pocket.
He answered immediately.
“Report.”
The voice on the other end spoke rapidly.
Lucien’s expression darkened with every passing second.
“How many?”
…
“I see.”
…
“No survivors?”
His jaw tightened.
“I’ll handle it.”
The call ended.
Adrian didn’t need to ask.
“What happened?”
“Our safe house was attacked.”
“The one near the docks?”
Lucien nodded.
“Twelve men.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
“Dead?”
“Every one of them.”
The room grew heavy with silence.
Elena watched the exchange carefully.
For the first time, she saw something she hadn’t expected.
Lucien wasn’t angry.
He looked… disappointed.
As though twelve deaths were not just a loss of soldiers—but of people he had trusted.
He closed his eyes briefly.
“When this is over,” he said quietly, “their families will be looked after.”
Adrian nodded.
“As always.”
Elena frowned.
“You support their families?”
Lucien looked at her.
“They served me.”
“So?”
“They don’t stop mattering because they’re dead.”
She blinked.
That wasn’t the answer she’d expected.
The ruthless king standing before her had just lost twelve men.
Yet his first concern wasn’t revenge.
It was the families they left behind.
The image she’d built of him cracked ever so slightly.
Lucien noticed the change in her expression.
“Don’t misunderstand.”
His voice became cold again.
“I’ll still bury the men responsible.”
A young guard hurried into the room, slightly out of breath.
“Boss.”
“What is it?”
“We intercepted a message.”
Lucien extended his hand.
The guard passed him a folded piece of paper.
He unfolded it.
Read it once.
Then handed it to Adrian.
Adrian cursed under his breath.
“What?” Elena demanded.
Neither man answered.
She stepped forward and snatched the note before anyone could stop her.
Written in black ink were only eight words.
Return the girl… or the father dies tonight.
The note slipped from Elena’s trembling fingers.
Her face drained of color.
Lucien looked at the fallen paper before lifting his gaze to hers.
“This,” he said quietly, “is why wolves don’t apologize.”
He reached for his gun on the table and slid it into the holster beneath his jacket.
“Because when someone threatens our pack…”
His gray eyes turned ice cold.
“…we don’t ask for mercy.”
“We make sure they never ask again.”
Outside, the engines of the waiting convoy roared to life.
War had officially begun.
Elena stared at the note on the floor, her mind refusing to accept the words she’d just read.
Return the girl… or the father dies tonight.
Her father had abandoned her.
He had buried her beneath a mountain of debt.
He had even signed that horrifying contract.
Yet the thought of him being executed still made her chest tighten.
“We have to save him,” she whispered.
Lucien’s gaze remained fixed on the message.
“We will.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I don’t make promises.”
“Then what do you make?”
His eyes met hers.
“Results.”
She hated how certain he sounded.
As though failure wasn’t something he allowed himself to consider.
Adrian folded the note and slipped it into an evidence bag.
“The handwriting doesn’t match Viktor’s previous messages.”
Lucien nodded once.
“Because Viktor didn’t write it.”
“You think someone else is involved?”
“I know someone else is.”
He turned toward one of the guards.
“Double the security around the estate.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“No one enters without my authorization.”
The guard hurried away.
Elena watched the mansion come alive. Men moved swiftly through the hallways, checking weapons, speaking into earpieces, and relaying orders with practiced efficiency.
No one questioned Lucien.
No one hesitated.
Every command was carried out immediately.
She had never witnessed authority like this before.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t forced.
It was absolute.
Lucien walked to a large wooden table at the center of the room. One of his men spread out a detailed map of the city.
Red pins marked warehouses, shipping docks, abandoned factories, and safe houses.
“This is his territory,” Lucien said, pointing to the eastern district.
Adrian nodded.
“And ours?”
Lucien tapped the western side of the map.
“The river divides us.”
Elena stepped closer despite herself.
“So your empires have borders?”
Lucien glanced at her.
“Every kingdom does.”
“And if someone crosses them?”
His answer was simple.
“They start a war.”
Before she could ask another question, a sharp voice crackled through the radio clipped to Adrian’s belt.
“Unit Three to headquarters.”
Adrian picked it up.
“Go ahead.”
“We’ve located Viktor’s convoy.”
“Where?”
“Heading toward Blackstone Harbor.”
Adrian looked at Lucien.
“It’s moving.”
Lucien’s expression sharpened instantly.
“How many vehicles?”
“Five confirmed. Possibly more.”
He folded the map.
“We’re leaving.”
Elena stepped in front of him.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“You need me.”
“I need you alive.”
“My father is out there.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened.
“And that’s exactly why you’re staying.”
Without warning, Elena reached for the pistol tucked beneath his jacket.
She barely touched the grip before Lucien caught her wrist.
His hand was firm but not painful.
The room went completely still.
Their eyes locked.
“You really are fearless,” he said quietly.
She tried to pull away.
“I’m desperate.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Lucien gently released her wrist.
“You’ll get yourself killed.”
“Not if you teach me.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Adrian’s face.
Even the guards exchanged uncertain glances.
Lucien studied her for several long seconds.
Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth lifted.
“You want to survive in my world?”
Elena held his gaze.
“I want to stop running from it.”
Lucien gave a slow nod.
“Then when I return…”
His voice was calm, decisive.
“…your training begins.”
No one in the room missed the significance of those words.
The Wolf had just made a decision.
And once Lucien Devereaux made a decision…
He never took it back.
- Writer
