Chapter 56
Lucas's POV
I reached them before I'd fully processed what I was doing. My hand shot out, fingers closing around Ellie's wrist.
"Ellie," I said, my voice rougher than intended. "I need to talk to you. Now."
Jackson was on his feet instantly, moving between us with the kind of fluid speed that made something in my wolf brain sit up and take notice. He was tall—same height as me—and in the dim bar light, his eyes flashed with something that looked almost golden.
"Lucas." His voice was calm, controlled. Everything I wasn't feeling right now. "I think you should let go of her."
The others at the table had gone silent.
But I couldn't let go. Not yet.
"This is between me and Ellie," I said, trying to keep my voice low. Trying to remember that we were in public, that there were rules about this, that I couldn't just—
"Then ask her nicely." Jackson's stance didn't shift, but something in his posture changed. A challenge. A warning.
My wolf responded before I could stop it, something aggressive and territorial surging up my spine. For a second—just a second—I felt my eyes flash gold, felt my grip on Ellie's wrist tighten just a fraction.
"Lucas." Ellie's voice cut through the testosterone-filled standoff like a knife. She pulled her wrist free—easily, like I wasn't even holding on that hard—and stood up. "If you need to talk, we can talk. But not like this."
She looked at Jackson, and something passed between them that made my chest constrict. "It's okay," she told him. "I'll handle this."
Jackson held my gaze for another heartbeat, and in that moment, I was absolutely certain: he knows. Somehow, this stranger knew what we were, knew what was at stake.
His eyes—were they glowing? Or was that just the bar lights?—promised consequences if I pushed this wrong.
"I'll be right here," he said to Ellie, but the message was clearly directed at me.
She nodded, then turned to me with an expression that was carefully, devastatingly neutral.
"Outside," she said simply. "Now."
---
The side door led to a small patio area, mostly deserted this time of year. The October air bit through my thin costume shirt, but I barely felt it. All my attention was focused on Ellie as she crossed her arms and fixed me with that look—the one that used to mean I was in trouble when we were kids.
"Well?" Her voice was cold. "What's so urgent it couldn't wait? What's so important about our 'family' that you had to drag me away from my friends?"
I flinched at the way she said 'family'—our code word for pack, for the secret we shared. The word tasted bitter now, reminder of everything we'd lost.
"You and Jackson," I started, then stopped, not sure how to voice the jealousy eating me alive. "That costume—you're dressed like a couple."
Her eyebrows rose. "And?"
"And?" I took a step closer, frustration making my voice rise. "Everyone can see you're together. You're parading around like—like—" I gestured helplessly at her dress, at the careful way she'd styled her hair. "Like you've moved on completely."
"Moved on?" Now there was heat in her voice, the first real emotion breaking through her icy exterior. "Lucas, what exactly did you think would happen? You stomped on my family's heirloom. You told me Samantha was your priority. You made it very clear where I ranked in your life."
"That's not—I didn't mean—" The words tangled on my tongue. How could I explain that seeing her with Jackson felt like my chest was being ripped open? How could I tell her that every protective instinct I had was screaming at me to pull her away from him, to keep her close, to—
But I had no right. I'd given up that right months ago.
"Jackson's human," I blurted out, the words spilling before I could stop them. "You're getting close to a human, Ellie. Spending time with him, letting him touch you, wearing matching costumes with him. You have no idea what you're risking."
Her eyes flashed—definitely gold now in the dim light. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." I pressed forward, frustration overriding caution. "You're always so worried about exposure, about keeping the secret safe. But here you are, practically dating some random guy who knows nothing about what we really are. What gives you the right to criticize my relationship with Samantha?"
"First," Ellie said, and her voice had gone clinical now, like she was listing facts for a court case, "the costumes were coordinated by our friends, not planned by me and Jackson. We're not together."
Something in my chest loosened slightly.
"Second," she continued, holding up another finger, "even if we were together—which we're not—I trust Jackson not to bring the kind of danger you worried about. He seems to understand boundaries and respect."
That loosening sensation reversed into a tight knot.
"Third, I have never once opposed any choice you made. Not when you started dating Samantha. Not when you brought her to your parents' house. Not when you made it clear she was your priority. I kept my mouth shut even when I had every right to speak."
Each word landed like a physical blow.
"And fourth," she said, her amber eyes boring into mine, "Lucas, I only care about one thing where you're concerned anymore: don't expose what we are. Don't put our families at risk. Don't drag the rest of us down with your drama. Beyond that? Your relationship with Samantha, your choices, your life—none of it has anything to do with me anymore."
The finality in her voice—that's what broke something in me. Not anger. Not accusations. Just... disinterest. Like I was a problem she'd solved and moved past.
"Ellie, I—" My throat tightened. I wanted to argue, wanted to make her understand that I never meant for things to get this bad, that I still—
"Lucas?"
We both froze.
Samantha stood in the patio doorway, backlit by the warm glow from inside the bar. Her red dress seemed to absorb all the light, making her pale skin look ghostly in the shadows. Her eyes moved from me to Ellie to the space between us—small enough that anyone could read as intimate.
Her expression cycled through confusion to understanding to something harder. Angrier.
"You said you were going to the restroom," she said slowly, stepping onto the patio. Her gaze fixed on Ellie's wrist, where my grip had left faint red marks on her pale skin. "But you came out here. With her."
Ellie glanced between us, and I saw the exact moment she decided this wasn't worth her time. Her face went carefully blank, and she turned to leave.
"Wait—" I reached out instinctively, needing to—to what? Apologize? Explain? Fix this somehow?
But Samantha moved faster, putting herself physically between us. Her hand closed on my arm, possessive and trembling slightly.
"Is this why you've been so distracted tonight?" she demanded, her voice rising. "Why you kept staring across the bar? You were watching HER?"