Chapter 32 LUCIAN
LUCIAN’S POV
Leaving her feels wrong.
Not dangerous, wrong in the way that makes my chest tighten, like I’m stepping away from something fragile that’s already begun to crack. I hate it. Every instinct in me hates it. My wolf paces restlessly under my skin as I lock the cottage door behind me, as if distance itself is a threat.
She’s safe, I remind him.
For now, my wolf replies. But she needs us.
I grip the steering wheel harder as I pull onto the dirt road leading away from the cottage. The forest closes in quickly, tall pines swallowing the little structure behind me until it’s gone from sight. Too soon.
The sedative Orion gave me will give her a few hours of clarity, maybe rest. After that… things get complicated.
And I need answers before they do.
\---
The pack hospital smells the same as always, sterile herbs, antiseptic, faint iron. It’s quiet at this hour, most of the activity pushed into the day. Orion is exactly where I expect him to be: his office light on, door half open, the glow spilling into the hallway.
He looks up as I knock once and enter.
“You left her,” he says, not unkindly.
“Briefly.”
Orion exhales through his nose and gestures for me to sit. “How is she?”
“Embarrassed. Confused. Scared.” I pause. “Still trusting me.”
His expression softens at that. “Good. That will matter.”
I sit, folding my hands together to keep them from clenching. “Tell me everything. No softening it.”
Orion studies me for a long moment before nodding.
“She suppressed her heat for years,” he begins. “Not chemically, trauma did it. Her body learned it wasn’t safe. That kind of suppression doesn’t erase the cycle. It delays it. Compounds it.”
I already know this much. I say nothing.
“Now that she’s bonded,” he continues, “her instincts no longer feel the need to hide. The heat is coming back in force. Stronger. Longer. Less predictable.”
“How long,” I ask.
“Seven to ten days,” he says. “Possibly more.”
My jaw tightens.
“And control?” I ask. “Hers.”
Orion hesitates. “Limited. Especially at peak.”
I nod once. “I don’t want to take advantage of her.”
His gaze sharpens. “Good. Because if you do, it will break her.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“I won’t,” I say immediately.
“I know,” he replies. “That’s why I prepared this.”
He reaches into his desk and slides a small vial across the surface. Inside are pale tablets.
“A mild sedative,” he explains. “It won’t suppress the heat, but it will give her periods of rest. Sleep. Mental clarity. It will also reduce the constant arousal so she’s not suffering every waking hour.”
“And me?” I ask bluntly.
Orion gives a humorless smile. “You’ll still feel it. But it may help you keep your footing.”
I take the vial and tuck it into my jacket pocket.
“There’s something else,” Orion says.
I look up.
“You remember telling me we’d talk about your brother after things settled?”
My shoulders stiffen. “Yes.”
“They won’t,” he says quietly. “Not until we do.”
I say nothing, my chest tightening.
“I’ve been reviewing old records,” Orion continues. “Autopsy notes. Patrol reports. Testimonies that didn’t sit right at the time.”
“Orion…”
“I think your brother’s death wasn’t as simple as we were led to believe.”
The room feels smaller suddenly.
“We’ll talk after the heat,” I say firmly. “First thing.”
He nods. “That’s all I ask.”
—
Darius is in the training yard when I find him, shirt off, sweat glistening on his skin as he spars with two younger wolves. He disarms one with ease, drops the other with a sweep of his leg, then looks up and grins when he sees me.
“Well, if it isn’t the Alpha who disappeared mid-crisis,” he says. “Heard you’re nesting.”
I glare.
He laughs. “Relax. Word spreads.”
“I’m not here for jokes.”
That sobers him. He waves the others off and grabs a towel, draping it around his neck.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I tell him. Not everything, but enough.
The heat. The isolation. The risk.
When I mention the sedative, his brows lift. “You’re really planning to white-knuckle this?”
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
The teasing fades completely then.
Darius nods slowly. “You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he says. “Because you’re terrified. And men who are afraid of doing harm usually don’t.”
I exhale.
“Keep watching Malrik,” I add. “I’ll be gone for days.”
“Already am,” he replies. “And Lucian…”
I pause.
“If anything feels off… you call. No heroics.”
I nod once. “Same to you.”
\---
The market is busy, loud, full of life I barely register as I move through it. I gather supplies mechanically, food that will last, water, blankets, extra clothes. Things to make the cottage livable.
I’m halfway through when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Lucian?”
I turn to find Nyx’s mother standing outside her bakery, flour dusting her apron.
“She told me you might come by,” she says gently.
“She did?” I ask.
“She worries,” the woman replies. “But she trusts you.”
That feels heavier than any accusation.
Inside, the smell of sugar and yeast is overwhelming. Nyx herself pops up behind the counter, eyes lighting up.
“You’re getting everything,” she says immediately. “All her favorites. No arguing.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
She smirks. “Good.”
As I load the boxes, her mother touches my arm lightly.
“Take care of her,” she says. “She’s had enough men fail her.”
“I will,” I promise.
\---
By the time I return, the sun is low, the forest painted gold and shadow. The cottage comes into view, warm light glowing from the windows.
Relief hits me hard.
I unload the supplies quickly, my senses stretching outward.
She’s inside.
Awake.
Waiting.
I pause at the door, hand hovering over the handle.
Steady, I tell myself.
For her.
I open the door and step inside.
“Aria,” I call softly.
From the bedroom, I hear her voice. “I’m here.”
Alive. Present.
Still mine.
And the hardest part is only just beginning.