Chapter 86: The First Move

Mariana’s POV

The eerie silence stretched on, thick with tension. Every second that passed without an attack only deepened my unease. Lucian wasn’t a man who waited without reason—he thrived on control, and right now, we were all dancing in the palm of his hand.

Damien stood beside me, his muscles coiled, his grip tight around his sword. Eva kept to the shadows, her sharp gaze flickering between the broken entrance and the hidden pathways she had sealed. Every warrior in the stronghold was armed, waiting.

Still, nothing came.

Lucian was patient. Too patient.

Then—

A single thud.

A heavy sound, just outside the stronghold doors.

The warriors above tightened their grips on their bows. I held my breath.

Another thud.

Then a slow, dragging noise.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

And then—the doors creaked.

Not from another attack. Not from brute force.

They were being pushed open.

A heartbeat later, something rolled inside.

A head.

Gasps filled the room. A few warriors recoiled in shock, and I had to fight to keep my breathing steady. Blood smeared across the floor where the severed head had come to a stop. His face—one of our scouts—was frozen in a twisted expression of pain, his throat slashed deep.

A message.

Lucian’s voice followed, smooth and unwavering. “You sent them to watch me. Now I am watching you.”

Rage simmered beneath my skin, but I forced myself to remain still. Reacting the way he wanted would only give him power.

Eva’s breath was a whisper beside me. “Mariana, we cannot let him get in our heads.”

I exhaled sharply. She was right.

I lifted my chin, forcing my voice steady. “If you’re so confident, Lucian, why are you still standing out there?”

A pause. Then a soft chuckle. “Because I enjoy watching you squirm, little queen.”

Damien tensed. “We should strike now—”

“No,” I cut in quickly, my mind racing. “That’s what he wants.”

Lucian was waiting for an opening. If we charged out now, we’d fall right into his trap.

Another beat of silence. Then Lucian’s voice turned sharp, laced with quiet amusement.

“No matter. If you won’t come to me, I’ll simply have to smoke you out.”

And then—

The scent of oil.

The flicker of orange outside the doorway.

Fire.

Panic shot through my veins.

Lucian wasn’t waiting anymore.

He was burning us out.

Flames licked at the broken doors, creeping hungrily along the wooden frame. Smoke curled through the air, thick and suffocating. The heat surged forward like a living beast, swallowing the entrance and illuminating the stronghold’s stone walls with a flickering orange glow.

Shouts erupted from the warriors behind me.

“They’re setting fire to the stronghold!”

“We need to put it out before it spreads!”

Panic threatened to break through the ranks, but I couldn’t afford to let it take hold. Not now. Not when Lucian was pushing us to the brink, waiting for us to break.

Damien grabbed a water barrel, throwing it against the spreading flames, but it was barely enough. More fire flared outside, embers floating in the night air like deadly stars.

“This isn’t just to flush us out,” Eva hissed. “He wants us to waste time putting it out while he moves his pieces.”

I clenched my teeth, my mind racing.

Lucian was playing this war like a game of strategy. He had expected us to panic, to focus on saving the stronghold while he closed in for the final strike.

But I wouldn’t play by his rules.

I turned to Damien and Eva. “Split up. Damien, take the warriors and keep the fire from spreading to the lower levels. Eva, find any remaining scouts and secure our retreat routes—just in case.”

Damien hesitated. “And you?”

I met his gaze, steel in my voice. “I’m going to make Lucian regret thinking he could trap us.”

I didn’t wait for arguments. I turned and pushed through the thickening smoke, heading toward one of the hidden pathways Eva had secured earlier. The pack had used these tunnels for centuries, and I knew them as well as I knew my own heartbeat.

If Lucian wanted to corner me, I would make sure he never saw me coming.

I slipped through the dark passage, emerging near the western wall. Outside, Lucian’s forces were gathered in the flickering firelight, their attention fixed on the burning stronghold.

And there he stood—Lucian himself, his stance relaxed, his lips curled in satisfaction.

Fury ignited inside me.

I had spent too long letting him pull the strings. Letting him push me into a fight on his terms.

Not anymore.

I reached for my dagger, my pulse steadying.

If Lucian wanted a queen, he would see what happened when she struck first. 

The fire roared behind me, but my focus was on Lucian. He stood near the western barricade, the flames casting his sharp features in flickering gold. His warriors clustered around him, watching the burning stronghold with satisfaction.

They thought they had us cornered.

They thought we had no way out.

I gripped my dagger tighter, crouching lower in the shadows. Eva’s hidden tunnels had given me the perfect vantage point—an opening none of them had anticipated.

Lucian’s voice carried over the chaos. “Let it burn.”

A soldier hesitated. “And if they escape?”

Lucian let out a quiet chuckle. “Then they’ll run. And when they do, we’ll cut them down.”

Fury coiled inside me.

He thought he could break us.

He thought I would run.

Wrong.

I moved swiftly, slipping past the outer guards before they even sensed me. They were too busy watching the flames to notice a shadow moving between them. I reached the edge of the barricade just as Lucian turned away from his men, inspecting the burning fortress like a conqueror admiring his victory.

His mistake.

I struck.

The dagger flashed as I lunged, aiming straight for his throat.

Lucian reacted fast—too fast. As if he had been waiting for me.

He twisted, dodging at the last second, and my blade barely grazed his jaw. A thin line of blood bloomed along his skin, but he only smiled.

“Ah. There’s my little queen.”

I snarled, slashing again, but he caught my wrist, yanking me close. The heat of the fire reflected in his dark eyes. “You never did learn patience.”

I drove my knee up, aiming for his ribs. He deflected it with a sharp twist, sending me stumbling back—but only for a breath. I used the momentum to roll, grabbing a fallen sword from one of his men before springing to my feet.

Lucian’s smirk widened. “That’s better.”

I didn’t waste time with words. I lunged again, my blade clashing against his with a sharp clang. Sparks flew as we moved—fast, deadly, precise. His strikes were powerful, calculated. Mine were relentless, fueled by fury and something deeper.

I wasn’t just fighting for survival.

I was fighting for my pack.

For every wolf he had slaughtered.

For every life he had shattered.

Lucian feinted left, but I anticipated it, countering with a brutal slash. He barely dodged, my blade catching the fabric of his coat, cutting deep into the leather.

A flicker of something crossed his face—not fear, but interest.

“Not bad,” he murmured.

I tightened my grip. “I’m not done.”

Lucian exhaled, shaking his head. “No, I don’t suppose you are.”

Then his eyes darkened.

And suddenly, I wasn’t facing just a man anymore.

His wolf surged forward in his gaze, and I felt the shift in the air.

He had been holding back.

My heart pounded.

Lucian was done toying with me.

Now, he was ready to kill.