Chapter 87

Chapter 87
Lucien POV

I found them near the edge of the clearing.

Not hiding. Not exactly.

Just… away.

Luke sat on a low wooden beam, carving something into a piece of scrap with a knife that had definitely seen better days. Camille stood nearby with her arms crossed, watching him like she was deciding whether to criticize or help.

Probably both.

I stopped a few steps away. “That’s not going to be straight.”

Luke didn’t look up. “Good thing it’s not supposed to be.”

Camille glanced at me. “You’re limping.”

“I’m walking,” I corrected.

“You’re limping.”

“Semantics.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed a folded cloth at me. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“I’m not going to—”

“Lucien.”

I sat.

Luke snorted quietly. “Still listens to her.”

“I listen when she’s right.”

“She’s always right,” Camille said without missing a beat.

“That’s not how that works,” Luke muttered.

Camille pointed at him. “You’re not better.”

“I didn’t say I was.”

“Good.”

Silence settled for a moment.

Not comfortable. Not uncomfortable either.

Just… loaded.

Luke kept carving. Camille kept watching him. I kept pretending my shoulder didn’t hurt.

Finally, Luke spoke.

“You look worse than last time I saw you.”

I huffed. “You always say that.”

“Because you keep getting worse.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“It’s accurate.”

I leaned back slightly against the broken wall behind me. “You stayed.”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“You didn’t have to.”

That made him stop carving.

Slowly, he looked up at me.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Act like it wasn’t obvious.”

I frowned. “What?”

“That I was going to stay,” he said, sharper now. “Someone had to.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“No,” Luke snapped. “You didn’t ask anything. That’s the problem.”

Camille sighed under her breath. “Here we go.”

I pushed myself upright a little. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Luke stood now, the piece of wood forgotten in his hand.

“It means you always decide things on your own,” he said. “You leave, you fight, you carry everything like the rest of us don’t exist.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s exactly fair.”

Camille stepped between us slightly, not blocking, just… present. “Maybe don’t tear each other apart in the middle of a rebuilding effort?”

“We’re talking,” Luke said.

“You’re arguing,” she corrected.

“Same thing.”

“Not even close.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, already feeling the tension climbing. “Luke—”

“No, you don’t get to smooth it over,” he cut in. “You left before. You made decisions for all of us without even asking what we wanted.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“From what? Being involved in your life?”

That hit harder than I expected.

I didn’t answer right away.

Camille looked between us, then muttered, “You’re both exhausting.”

“Stay out of it,” Luke said.

“Oh, absolutely not,” she shot back. “I’ve been dealing with both of you since we were kids. I earned a front-row seat to this nonsense.”

I almost smiled despite myself.

Luke didn’t.

“You think I wanted to stay behind?” he said, voice lower now. “Watching everything fall apart from a distance? Waiting for news that never came?”

My jaw tightened. “I thought it would keep you safe.”

“And what if I didn’t want safe?” he asked. “What if I wanted to be there?”

Camille crossed her arms. “He’s got a point.”

I glanced at her. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m not supposed to help,” she said. “I’m supposed to be honest.”

I looked back at Luke.

“I didn’t know how to do both,” I said finally.

“Do what?”

“Lead… and be a brother at the same time.”

The words felt heavier than they should have.

“I thought if I tried to hold onto everything, I’d lose all of it,” I continued. “So I made a choice.”

Luke’s expression shifted slightly.

“You chose the pack,” he said.

“I chose survival,” I corrected. “And I thought that meant distance.”

Camille shook her head. “You always think it’s either-or.”

“It felt like it was.”

“It wasn’t,” Luke said.

Silence again.

This time… different.

I let out a slow breath. “I didn’t trust myself to keep you safe if you were close.”

Luke stared at me. “You don’t get to decide that alone.”

“I know that now.”

“That’s convenient.”

“I’m serious.”

Camille studied me for a second. “He is.”

Luke exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “You really thought pushing us away was the better option?”

“At the time?” I said. “Yes.”

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’ve been told.”

Camille pointed at both of us. “You’re both idiots.”

“That’s fair,” I admitted.

Luke looked at me again, quieter now. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

I hesitated.

Then nodded. “I’m learning.”

He held my gaze for a moment longer.

Then… slowly… his shoulders dropped.

“Good,” he said.

Camille clapped her hands once. “Great. Emotional growth. We love to see it.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m celebrating the fact that neither of you punched each other.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“Lucien, you absolutely were,” she said.

“…maybe a little.”

Luke snorted.

There it was.

Small.

But real.

Camille smirked. “There it is. The laugh. Rare species.”

“Shut up,” Luke muttered, but he was smiling now too.

I leaned back again, letting some of the tension leave my shoulders.

It wasn’t fixed.

Not completely.

But it wasn’t broken either.

After a while, the conversation drifted.

Camille complained about supply shortages.
Luke argued about better ways to reinforce the outer walls.
I listened more than I spoke.

And for once… that felt right.

Eventually, Luke sat back down, picking up the piece of wood again.

“What are you even making?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Not sure yet.”

“That explains why it’s crooked,” I said.

“It’s not crooked,” he shot back. “It’s intentional.”

Camille laughed. “Sure it is.”

Luke ignored her and kept carving.

The three of us sat there as the sun dipped lower, shadows stretching across the clearing.

No urgency.

No shouting.

Just… being.

Camille nudged my foot lightly. “You’re quieter than usual.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Very.”

Luke glanced at me. “About what?”

I looked out over Hollow Creek — the rebuilding, the movement, the life slowly stitching itself back together.

“About how to do this better,” I said.

“Better than almost dying?” Camille asked.

“That would be a start.”

Luke nodded slightly. “Good plan.”

We fell quiet again after that.

Not empty.

Not awkward.

Just… shared.

Not perfect.

But closer than we’d been in a long time.

And for now—

That was enough.