chapter 97
Tori's POV:
Mrs. White continued gushing about Andrew, completely oblivious to the dangerous drop in Lucas's mood.
Her voice grew more enthusiastic with each syllable.
"He would be perfect for you, Tori. When do you think would be the best time for the mating ceremony? Spring is always lovely for these occasions, don't you think?"
The temperature in the room plummeted.
I felt Lucas's gaze grow increasingly intense, almost burning a hole through me where I sat.
"Mrs. White, please," I interrupted hastily, "my grandmother needs her rest. And as I've mentioned before, I'm not interested in—"
"Nonsense, dear," Mrs. White waved dismissively. "These important matters require the wisdom of elders. Young people these days rush into decisions without proper guidance—"
Lucas rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his presence seeming to fill the entire room.
"I believe I qualify as an elder, Mrs. White," he said, each word precise and glacial. "And let me be clear—this match will never happen. Not now. Not ever.."
When I dared glance at Lucas, my breath caught.
To anyone else, he might have appeared perfectly composed—his expression neutral, his posture relaxed. But I could feel it. The rage simmering just beneath his controlled exterior, like magma beneath a seemingly dormant volcano.
Mrs. White's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. The confidence that had carried her through her matchmaking attempts evaporated instantly.
"Oh my, look at the time," she stammered, rising shakily to her feet. "I should... I should let Eileen rest." She backed toward the door. "We'll continue this another time, perhaps."
She practically fled from the room, not even waiting for a response.
Grandmother looked between Lucas and me, her brow furrowed in confusion. Decades of life experience had taught her to recognize tension when she saw it.
"I think I'll rest in my room for a while," she said carefully, beginning to wheel herself away from the tension.
"You two clearly have things to discuss." She offered a gentle smile. "Take your time, dear. Don't worry about me—these old bones need the extra rest anyway."
With remarkable intuition, she maneuvered her wheelchair down the hallway toward her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her and leaving Lucas and me alone in the suddenly quiet living room.
Lucas took a step toward me, then another. My back hit the wall before I realized I'd been retreating.
"Are you considering it?" he asked, voice dangerously soft.
"Considering what?"
"A match with Andrew." He spat the name like it was poison.
"That was just Mrs. White being... Mrs. White," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I have no interest—"
"Then where is it?" he cut me off, eyes narrowing dangerously. "The ring. If you're so uninterested in other matches, why aren't you wearing it?"
My hand instinctively went to my neck, fishing out the silver chain hidden beneath my sweater. The platinum band with its gemstone center dangled between us, catching the light.
"I keep it here," I explained, my voice softer than intended.
"Wearing it on my hand isn't practical," I explained softly. "And... my grandmother and others don't know about us yet. I didn't want to invite questions I'm not ready to answer." I hesitated, fingers curling protectively around the ring. "But I keep it with me. Always."
Lucas's eyes fixed on the ring, following its gentle sway.
Something in his face changed—the hard lines of anger gradually softening. The dangerous energy radiating from him diminished, not disappearing completely but receding like a tide.
"Why did you leave?" His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the hurt and anger simmering beneath.
I met his gaze, refusing to cower despite the Alpha authority bearing down on me.
"My grandmother fell and broke her leg. She needed emergency surgery."
"You could have left words," he pressed, stepping closer. "Do you have any idea what it was like to wake up and find you vanished? "
"I didn't have time, and your mother was in the hospital room," I replied, keeping my voice down. "My grandmother needed me."
"And I didn't?" His jaw tightened.
"I didn't know what you would think of me," I said, my voice catching as the vulnerability I'd been hiding finally surfaced. My eyes dropped to the floor, unable to meet his gaze.
"You found out about what happened four years ago. About everything they accused me of." My fingers tightened around the ring until the edges bit into my palm. "How was I supposed to know if you still... if you even wanted me around anymore? If I was still—"
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "I didn't know if I still had a place in your life after you learned the truth."
Lucas sighed deeply, a sound that seemed to release some of the tension that had been building between us. In one smooth motion, he reached for me, pulling me against his chest. His arms enveloped me, strong and secure.
"If you can't bear to let me go," he murmured against my hair, "then hold on tighter. Don't run."
I hesitated only for a moment before wrapping my arms around his waist, feeling his warmth seep into me. My face pressed against his chest, I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Aren't you angry?" I whispered, my voice muffled against his shirt.
"About what?"
"About my past. About what I kept from you."
He pulled back slightly, tilting my chin up so I had to meet his gaze.
"Yes, I'm angry about that."