Chapter 13 LUCIAN
LUCIAN’S POV
The morning after shouldn’t have felt like this.
Sleep hadn’t claimed me easily and even when it did, it wasn’t restful. Her scent haunted me. Every time I closed my eyes, Aria was there. That small, hesitant smile. The sound of her laughter in that low-lit booth at Marty’s. The faint tremor in her hands when I touched her fingers, only for it to settle when I didn’t let go.
Even now, hours later, I could still feel the ghost of her touch against my palm.
I’d come to Marty’s early, just to make sure everything was perfect. It had been years since I’d even thought about a date. I’d forgotten how it felt to care about the details, the lighting, the music, even the angle of the seat I chose. Marty had laughed when he caught me fussing.
“Didn’t take you for the nervous type, Lucian,” he’d said, handing me a tumbler. “You’ve got that look, like a man about to go into battle.”
He wasn’t wrong.
But when she walked through those doors… the air itself seemed to change.
Her scent hit first, sweet, warm, alive. Then my eyes found her, and for a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. The halter-neck dress she wore was a soft shade that made her skin glow, and it swayed when she moved, like it couldn’t decide whether to obey gravity or dance for me. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun, leaving her neck exposed, smooth, tempting, and too easy to imagine my lips against it.
I’d turned away for half a second, pretending to say something to Marty, but the burn in my chest gave me away.
When our eyes met, something primal stirred.
She smiled shy and uncertain, but genuine and it nearly undid me.
The night flowed effortlessly after that. We talked like we’d done it a hundred times before about nothing and everything. About books, favorite meals, what the moon looked like from her window. I learned she loved storms but hated thunder.
Every word she spoke had a rhythm that tugged at something old and buried inside me.
At some point, the setting sun had painted her in gold, and all I could think was how unfair it was that something so fierce could look so delicate.
When I reached for her hand as we walked home, she didn’t pull away. Her pulse thrummed softly beneath my thumb. I’d wanted to kiss her. Goddess, I’d wanted to. But instinct told me not yet. She wasn’t ready. And maybe neither was I.
So, I’d kissed her forehead instead.
The way she looked up at me afterward… if there’s a heaven, it’s hidden in that look.
\---
Now, standing in Adrian’s study, I can still see her, radiant, nervous, and utterly unaware of how much space she’d already taken up in my thoughts.
The room smelled faintly of cedar and dust, the scent of old memories. My brother’s desk was neat, as always. There were framed photos of him and me in our early years, sparring and laughing; another with him and Lila when she was just a baby; one of him, his mate Josie, and the triplets, all grinning in matching pajamas.
The sight made my chest ache.
“Miss him, don’t you?”
Varos’s voice echoed faintly in my mind, low and steady.
“Every day,” I murmured.
I reached out, tracing the edge of the frame with my thumb. A flood of memories followed, Adrian pushing me into the lake when I was twelve, our mother yelling from the porch, him laughing so hard he nearly fell in himself. We’d promised then to always have each other’s backs.
And yet, I hadn’t been here when he needed me most.
The guilt was a living thing, coiled deep beneath my ribs.
The door creaked open. Malrik stepped in, his expression perfectly composed, as always.
“Alpha,” he greeted, bowing slightly. “Didn’t think I’d find you here this early.”
His voice had that polished smoothness that always made my hackles rise.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I replied, leaning back against the desk. “Figured I’d catch up on some reading.”
He smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “You’ve been doing a lot of catching up lately. With the pack, with the family…” He paused just long enough to be noticed. “With certain individuals.”
I ignored the bait. “Report.”
He launched into updates about patrols, training, minor disputes between border scouts. His tone was respectful, his words clean, but there was something off. It sounded rehearsed. Too practiced. Too smooth.
“And what can you tell me about the rogue attack that claimed my brother's life, Malrik?” I asked, his name leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
His pause was brief, but it was there. “The attack happened fast. Your brother fought bravely. We did everything we could.”
He lowered his gaze, feigning sorrow. “It was chaos. Flames, smoke… the rogues moved like shadows, they were quick and coordinated. We tried to track their scent afterward, but it was gone. Almost as if they vanished.”
So fucking convenient, I thought.
Quick and coordinated weren't the words normally used to describe rogues.
Before I could press further, movement at the door caught my attention.
Lila stood there, small, quiet, with that same unreadable look she always wore. She had Adrian’s eyes.
“Hey, little one,” I said softly. “Come here.”
She shook her head.
Malrik turned, offering her a smile that made my blood turn cold. “Lila, sweetheart.” He bent slightly, hand reaching toward her.
She stepped back, no hesitation, no fear, just rejection.
He chuckled lightly. “Kids will be kids,” he said, straightening. “If there’s nothing else, Alpha, I’ll take my leave.”
When he was gone, I exhaled slowly, tension bleeding out of my shoulders.
“Not fond of him, are you?” I asked.
Lila shook her head again.
“Neither am I,” I said.
That earned me a small smile, fleeting but real.
She walked past me, heading for the bookshelf. Her tiny fingers brushed along the spines before pulling out a worn storybook. She sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping it open with practiced ease.
“Did your Dad read those to you?” I asked.
She nodded without looking up. “Every night. But since he’s gone, Josie reads. Sometimes Elias cries, but Sofie laughs at him.”
I crouched beside her. “Would you like me to read to you?”
She shook her head again, but there was a hint of warmth in her tone when she replied, “I can read it myself. I’m a big girl. But Sofie would like it. Elias too, even if he says he wouldn’t.”
I smiled. “Then I’ll read to them sometime, and to you as well.”
“Okay,” she said simply, closing the book. “They’ll like that.”
When she left, the silence that followed felt heavier than before, but not empty.
It was filled with something small, fragile, and quietly mending.
For the first time in a long while, hope didn’t feel like a stranger.