Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Rain drummed against the café windows, the steady rhythm a stark contrast to the tension crackling hendan Be two Alphas. Riven lazily stirred his coffee, each deliberate motion a subtle display of territorial dominance
Lucien’s opening statement made Riven’s hand freeze mid motion.
“Give her back to me.”
“I’ll trade anything you want.”
Riven’s eyebrow arched with predatory amusement, his amber eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Anything”
“Yes.” Lucien’s voice emerged as a ravaged thing, stripped of its customary command. “Controlling interest in Shadowpine Industries. The silver mines in my northern territory. My offshore assets.”
“Even…” his voice faltered, the admission visibly painful as his wolf struggled beneath his skin, “I’ll bring Saela back and make her kneel in apology to Mira if that’s what it takes.”
Riven’s sudden laugh held no warmth–just pure, undiluted satisfaction at witnessing his rival’s desperation.
He set down his coffee cup with deliberate precision, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet café. “Six years as her mate, and you still fundamentally don’t understand what Mira is, do you?”
“She’s not some asset in your portfolio, Ashmorne.” His voice softened when speaking her name, a tenderness slipping through his typically carefree demeanor. “She’s a living, breathing wolf who’s bled and wept and suffered under your negligence.”
“You had something precious that half the Alphas in three territories would have killed for–her absolute devotion. And you treated it like trash.”
Riven stood, his full Alpha presence unfurling as he looked down at Lucien with undisguised contempt that shifted to something gentler when he mentioned Mira. “Now it’s my turn to show her what it means to be truly treasured.”
“As for you…” his lips curved into a pitying smile, “you deserve exactly what’s coming to you. A lifetime of regret, knowing exactly what you threw away.”
Lucien remained frozen in place, watching Riven’s retreating figure disappear into the rain. The scene triggered a cascade of painful memories–Mira walking away just like this, countless times after he’d pushed her aside, only to return with those hopeful amber eyes still looking at him like he hung the moon.
How had he never recognized what an extraordinary gift her persistence had been?
Being loved so completely was a luxury he’d discarded without a second thought.
Lucien remained in European Territory for another full week.
Each dawn found him outside the Mooncrag compound with fresh white moonflowers tied with silver ribbon–her
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Chapter 22
favorite combination. Every afternoon he waited patiently outside Riven’s office building, enduring the mocking glances of the pack guards just to catch a glimpse of her laugh. Nights were spent beneath the ancient pak outside her bedroom window, watching silhouettes move behind the curtains until the lights finally went out.
Until his Beta’s eighteenth desperate call broke through-
“Alpha, the council can’t hold things together any longer. The eastern territory project is hemorrhaging silver–we’re looking at losses exceeding fifty million.”
His parents‘ calls followed immediately after: “Lucien, when are you coming home? Your father’s heart condition is acting up again…”
Ending the call, Lucien stood in the downpour outside the Mooncrag compound, his soaked clothes clinging to his skin as he stared at the illuminated second floor window.
Two silhouettes moved in intimate synchrony behind the gauzy curtain, their closeness unmistakable.
His claws extended involuntarily, drawing blood from his palms as his wolf howled in silent anguish.
The next morning, as Mira stepped onto the porch, she found Lucien standing at the bottom of the steps.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, stubble roughened his usually immaculate jaw, but his spine remained ramrod straight–a proud Alpha refusing to show submission even in defeat.
“I need to return to Shadowpine,” his voice scraped like gravel over raw wounds. “Business matters require my attention. My parents are unwell.”
Mira’s expression remained deliberately blank, not even the flicker of an eyelash betraying emotion. “Safe travels, then.”
“I’m coming back,” he insisted with the stubborn determination that had built his empire. “As soon as everything is settled, I’ll return immediately.”
“Lucien,” she finally met his gaze directly, amber eyes cold and clear, “I don’t want to see you again.”
He acted as though her words had evaporated before reaching him, suddenly stepping forward to press a velvet box into her palm.
“Wait for me.”
With that, he turned and walked away, his departing figure somehow managing to radiate both absolute defeat and desperate hope in equal measure.
Mira stared after him, then slowly opened the box to find a new mate ring, “M&L” engraved on the inner band, still warm from his body heat.
For a moment, something flickered across her carefully controlled expression–a memory of that snowy night six years ago when he’d stood before her without even offering a ring, simply stating with cold efficiency, “We’re getting married.”
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Chapter 22
Rain lashed against the windows of Lucien’s Shadowpine estate as he pushed open the massive oak doors.
A fragile figure huddled in the shadows of the foyer, waiting.
“Luc…”
Saela lifted her face, once flawlessly beautiful, now gaunt and hollowed by suffering. Purple bruises circled her throat, silver–burn rope marks scarred her delicate wrists.
She threw herself into his arms, sobbing with genuine desperation. “I was wrong… God, I was so wrong about everything…”
“I don’t care about being an Ashmorne princess anymore. I don’t care about status or power. I just need you…” Her voice broke with genuine remorse. “I should have chosen you when I had the chance.”
The sound of tires screeching outside cut through her pleas. A heavyset man in his fifties rushed in from the rain, visibly trembling when he recognized the Alpha of Shadowpine.
“Mr. Ashmorne… I can explain-”
Lucien looked down at Saela clinging to him, her tears soaking his shirt. For a moment, something like his old protective instinct flared–but then images of Mira flashed through his mind: Mira with her head bleeding from broken bottles, Mira with her beautiful hair hacked away, Mira enduring a hundred slaps because of this woman in
his arms.
Gently but firmly, he disentangled himself from Saela’s desperate grasp.
“Go back with your
mate.”
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