Chapter 3 LUCIAN
Lucian’s POV
I stood frozen for a full minute before I could make myself cross the threshold.
The pack hospital hadn’t changed. The clean white walls, the faint antiseptic tang in the air, the creak of the old oak doors, every detail was exactly as I remembered. Time had moved forward for me, but here? It felt like I had stepped straight back into the past.
The walk here hadn’t been friendly.
Every step carried the weight of whispers. My ears picked them up no matter how I tried to shut them out. Curse my heightened hearing, curse the way voices seemed to cling to me whether I wanted them or not.
“Goddess be good, it’s Lucian.”
“Why did he even come back?”
“He waited until his brother died before showing up.”
“Such a shame.”
“He looks rough.”
“I wonder how he’s fairing. It can’t be easy losing the only family you have left.”
The pity cut almost as sharp as the insults. I didn’t know which one stung worse, disdain or sympathy.
“Ignore them,” Varos rumbled low in my mind, his presence grounding me. My wolf’s voice was gravel in my head, steady when I wasn’t. “We’re not here for them.”
He was right. I wasn’t here for anyone else.
I hadn’t even made it inside when Uncle Orion appeared.
His face was drawn, pale with exhaustion. His shoulders sagged in a way I’d never seen before, as if the weight of decades had finally settled there. His eyes, those sharp healer’s eyes that always seemed to see more than they should were rimmed red. He’d been crying.
“So good to see you, son,” he greeted, voice raw.
“It’s good to see you too, Uncle,” I managed, though my throat felt scraped raw.
“Come,” he said softly, his hand brushing my arm in a rare display of tenderness. “I’ll take you to him.”
The walk to the morgue stretched long, every step echoing in my skull. The smell hit me first, sterile air mixed with faint iron. It was wrong. Too quiet. Too still.
Orion’s voice broke the silence. “He looks… rough. After being gutted by those rogues, it took some effort to put him back together. This was the best we could do.”
He pulled at the sheet.
And there he was.
Adrian.
My brother.
My little brother.
My knees buckled before I realized I was falling.
The boy I once carried on my shoulders, the man who had begged me to stay, the Alpha who had stepped up when I wouldn’t, he was lying on that table like a broken doll.
His skin was too pale, washed out of all warmth. His lips were tinged blue. A jagged line of stitched wounds zig-zagged across his abdomen, disappearing around his back. His arms bore cuts, his face marked with shallow scars. And his skull, Goddess. The dent at his temple, the way the bone had been pieced back together, it made my stomach lurch.
That wasn’t my brother.
Not like this.
The first tear slipped before I could stop it. Then another.
I dropped to my knees beside him, clutching at his head like if I held on tightly enough, I could anchor his spirit back into his body. A growl ripped out of me, low and feral, vibrating through my chest.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
The words tumbled out in a chant, my voice hoarse, breaking. I didn’t even know who I was apologizing to, him, myself, the Goddess. Maybe all of them.
Because the truth burned sharp: this was my fault.
If I hadn’t run.
If I hadn’t turned my back on the Alpha role.
If I had taken the weight that should have been mine to bear, he would still be alive.
This should have been me.
Adrian should’ve had the chance to live the life he deserved. To raise his children. To grow old.
And now… now all that remained was this cold, broken shell.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, weeping into the silence, my hands trembling against his cooling skin. Time lost meaning in that room. I cried until there were no tears left, only the dull ache of emptiness.
Finally, I forced myself to my feet.
“I’ll make this right, Adrian. I promise.” My voice cracked, raw with grief. “I’ll take care of your children. I’ll do my best. I swear, I won’t let you down again.”
I bent and pressed my lips to his forehead cold, stiff, final. Then I pulled the sheet back over him, hiding his brokenness from the world.
When I stepped back, the room felt emptier than ever.
Uncle wasn’t there anymore. He’d left me to my grief.
I swallowed hard and rolled Adrian’s body back into its drawer. My hands lingered on the metal for a moment, then I forced myself to turn away.
Outside, Orion sat slumped in a chair in the hall. His face looked older than I remembered. When he glanced up, his eyes carried the kind of weariness that came from more than lack of sleep, it was soul-deep.
“Can we talk in my office?” he asked quietly.
“Sure.”
The office hadn’t changed either. The same books crammed onto shelves, the same faint smell of herbs and ink, the same portrait on the wall of the three of us me, Adrian, and Orion when we were younger. For a second, the sight of it nearly undid me again.
“Are you staying?” Orion asked as soon as I sat.
I hadn’t thought through the details, but the answer came without hesitation. “I have to, Uncle. Until I get to the bottom of this, I’ll be here.”
It wasn’t really a choice. I had promised Adrian. And until I fulfilled that promise, there was no leaving.
Orion nodded slowly, relief flickering across his tired features. “Good. I just needed to be sure. There’s more to discuss, but I’ll meet you at the pack house later. I’ve got patients who need me now.”
“Is this about Adrian’s death?” I asked, dread curdling in my stomach.
“Yes and no,” he said cryptically. “We’ll talk at home.”
Then he rounded the desk and put a hand on my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “It’s good to have you back, son.”
The warmth in his voice cracked something in me, but before I could answer, he was gone.
I sat there staring at that portrait, my throat tight, until I couldn’t bear it anymore.
By the time I stepped out of the hospital, the weight in my chest was almost suffocating.
I should’ve gone straight to the pack house. Instead, my feet carried me somewhere else.
The forest.
The air smelled sharper here, damp earth mixing with pine. Each step on the familiar trail was like walking back into childhood. The path curved, and I knew exactly where it led.
The waterfall.
Our hideout. Mine and Adrian’s.
When we were boys, when the shouting in the house got too loud, I’d sneak him out. We’d run through the trees, wolves side by side until our lungs burned. Then we’d strip bare and dive into the freezing pool beneath the falls, laughing until our sides hurt.
Those were the moments we made for ourselves when our parents couldn’t give us peace. Two boys clinging to scraps of freedom, pretending the world was kinder than it was.
A lump formed in my throat at the memory.
Sometimes I tried not to blame our parents. They hadn’t been fated mates, forced together by duty instead of bond. Maybe it had been harder than I understood. But the scars they left on us were real all the same.
I was still lost in thought when it hit me.
The pull.
It slammed into me like a blow, a sharp tug at my chest that stole my breath. The hairs on my arms stood on end. My pulse kicked into a frantic rhythm. My nostrils flared involuntarily as a scent invaded me wild, intoxicating.
Honeysuckle. Sweet, sharp, alive.
It wrapped around me, filled me, sank into my bones.
My head snapped toward it so fast my neck nearly cracked. My eyes scanned the treeline, heart thundering, until I found her.
A shadow among shadows.
Half-hidden behind a tree, cloaked in brush.
A wolf.
Her eyes were light brown but glowing like embers, tinged orange in the dim light locked on mine.
And everything inside me stilled.
Varos growled low in my mind, primal satisfaction radiating through him.
“Mate.”