Chapter 2 Torn Apart

*Trigger Warning: Brutal graphic violence, psychological torture, gore, disturbing content. This chapter is savage, unhinged, and not for sensitive readers. Proceed with caution**

The warehouse was dead silent except for the hum of a single overhead bulb that flickered like it was gasping for life. The air itself felt wrong. Too thick. Too still.

As if it were holding its breath in fear. And then came the sound. Boots. Slow. Echoing. Lucien. He emerged from the shadows like a storm cloaked in flesh.

The kind of presence that made even silence whimper. The kind of presence that dragged fear out of your bones.

Drenched in black, gloves on, coat heavy across his shoulders, his posture radiated death with elegance. His dark eyes scanned the room like a butcher deciding which part to carve first.

Evans stood by the wall, stiff-backed and stone-eyed, beside the prisoner. Jonas. Once a soldier. Now a trembling, bloodstained wreck strapped to a metal chair, arms twisted behind him with cuffs thick enough to hold a beast.

His head hung low, chin dripping with spit and blood. One eye was completely swollen shut. The other darted in wild, feverish panic.

His skin was pale, trembling violently, soaked in sweat and something worse. His torn shirt clung to his chest, red and black with dried blood. Lucien said nothing at first.

He didn't need to. The very air shifted the moment he stopped in front of Jonas. The bulb overhead flickered again, casting shadows across his face...turning him into something his facial expression into something inhuman.

Jonas whimpered when he saw him. That was his first mistake. Lucien's lip twitched upward. "I haven't even touched you yet," he murmured, voice cold as the grave.

"And you're already crying. What a fucking embarrassment." Jonas's breath stuttered. "Alpha... I swear... I didn't...please, I swear I didn't mean..." Lucien cut him off with a sudden backhand across the mouth.

As Jonas's head jerked to the side, blood spraying from his lips, a tooth skittering across the floor and bouncing near Evans's boot. Lucien didn't move for a moment.

Then slowly, he crouched, his black-gloved fingers wrapping around the armrest of the chair.

His eyes never left Jonas's. "I told you to shut your fucking mouth, didn't I?" Jonas's breath hitched. "I-I didn't...." Lucien's fist drove into his ribs, fast and deep, making the chair screech against the floor. Jonas howled, body spasming against the restraints.

"You didn't?" Lucien repeated, standing. "So you didn't know my men were ambushed because of you? Didn't hear them scream as they burned alive in that van? Didn't watch them choke on smoke and blood?" He paced now with a smirk on his face, his hands folded behind his back as his voice dropped into something colder.

Smoother. Scarier. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you opened your mouth to Dorian. You knew.

" You watched me give you a seat at my table. You watched me trust you. You bowed to me. You called me Alpha. And the moment Dorian showed his cock and his promises, you dropped to your fucking knees."

Jonas shook his head frantically as he clicked his tongue, one eye wide with anger. "Jones...You incompetent fool" "It wasn't like that...he threatened me, Alpha, please..I have pups...I have a mate...I didn't have a choice..." Lucien stopped walking. That word. "Choice." He turned slowly.

His smile came back. "Let me explain something to you, Jonas," he said softly, stepping closer. "You always have a choice. My men had a choice when they were dying. When they were being gutted. Burned. Mutilated.

They chose to scream my name. To beg for me. Not their mothers. Not the fucking gods or the moon goddess. Me.

Because they knew I would come. Because they believed I would avenge them." He crouched again, face level with Jonas's, his tone dropping to a whisper so soft it was suffocating.

"And now you're going to help me do exactly that." Lucien stood and turned to Evans. "Bring it." Evans didn't ask. He simply nodded and unrolled the leather bundle. Knives. Twenty of them, lined up like instruments in an orchestra of pain. Polished silver, curved, thin, fat.

Each one shaped to perfection. Some designed to kill. Others to prolong. Lucien selected a blade no longer than his palm. Curved. Thin. Perfect for skinning.

He held it up to the light. Admired it. Then turned to Jonas. "You know what I love about pain?" he said conversationally. "It tells the truth. It speaks in screams. It doesn't lie.

Pain doesn't stutter or make excuses." He stepped forward and pressed the blade against Jonas's shoulder. Not stabbing. Just pressing. Jonas sobbed, full-on, shoulders shaking, mouth trembling.

"Alpha please..please I'll do anything...just please..." Lucien leaned in. "You'll scream." He dragged the blade down. Skin peeled. Jonas screamed so loudly the bulb above flickered again.

His back arched violently, blood pouring in thin rivers down his chest. Lucien didn't blink. His hand was steady. His face unreadable. Another cut. Another scream.

Another layer of skin hanging from Jonas's body like torn paper. "You feel that?" Lucien asked, tilting his head. "That's honesty. That's who you really are, stripped raw and begging like a worm." Jonas convulsed, frothing at the mouth, tears and blood mixing on his face. "You want to talk about your family now?" Lucien asked, slicing again, slower this time. "You want to beg for the life of your pups after you handed over mine?" Jonas wailed.

Lucien kept going. Minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Jonas was soaked. His body shook violently with every breath.

Blood puddled beneath the chair, creeping toward Lucien's boots. And still Lucien worked on his skin. Measured. Focused. Controlled. He cut shapes into Jonas's chest. Etched symbols. Carved memories.

He whispered while he worked. "You told him where my shipments move. That cost me twenty-seven wolves. I want you to remember every single one." Another cut.

"That truck explosion killed two teens..barely of age to shift. Their bones snapped before they even knew what hit them." He pressed harder. Deeper. "One of them was my cousin's son." He grinned now.

"You remember Derrick, don't you? He taught you how to fight. Took a fucking bullet through the neck trying to hold the line you compromised." Jonas was sobbing.

Vomiting. Losing consciousness. Lucien stood suddenly and backhanded him again. Jonas's eyes flew open, wide and bloodshot. "No," Lucien snarled.

"You don't get to pass out. You don't get peace." He leaned in, his lips brushing Jonas's ear. "You get justice." Jonas's mouth worked open and closed like a fish gasping on the shore. "Dorian," he whispered.

"He wants... your woman... he said... he'd take her... he said he'd find your mate. He said Anna wasn't your real mate. He knows your real mate. Lucien stilled.

Every muscle in his body went rigid. "What?" he said, dangerously quiet. "He... he wants to fuck her... while you're dead... he said... he'd break her..." Silence.

Lucien's face changed. No rage. No fire. Just ice. The stillness before the avalanche. He didn't shout. He didn't shake. He simply grabbed the nearest serrated knife.

And rammed it into Jonas's stomach. Then dragged it sideways. Jonas screamed. Lucien twisted. Jonas shrieked like an animal as blood burst from his mouth, his legs kicking helplessly.

Lucien grabbed his jaw and forced his head up, his voice ice-cold and clear. "You and Dorian y'all are crazy as fuck! If you think this would work on me.

My mate is fucking dead! Don't you fucking joke about her not being my real mate unless I would fasten your death! He grabbed his chin as he gave him a punch straight to the air. And honestly dear readers that punch splitter jones eyes opened.

Then he let go. Jonas slumped forward, chest heaving, blood pouring from the massive tear in his gut and eyes. Lucien dropped the knife. Then picked up another.

This one longer. Thicker. He jammed it into Jonas's throat. Jonas was dead. The body convulsed. Gurgled. Stilled.

Lucien stepped back, blood dripping from his hands like holy water. Evans didn't speak. Lucien turned slowly.

"Box his head." "Yes, Alpha." Lucien started walking. At the door, he stopped. The rain outside poured hard. Thunder roared like war drums. He didn't look back. "Leave it at Dorian's doorstep. Clean it. Seal it.

And carve one message into the box." Evans waited. Lucien's voice was final. "You started this. Now bleed for it."

"Take care of that and meet me in the van," Lucien muttered, his voice dry and sharp as a snapped bone. He vanished into the rain. And hell followed.

***

He reached the van, ripped the door open, and climbed into the passenger seat with a quiet grunt.

The door slammed shut behind him, muffling the storm outside. Lucien sat there, soaked and seething, the leather under him creaking as he shifted. Then he stilled. His hands rested on his thighs. His fingers twitched.

His jaw clenched hard. "He wants your woman. Said he'd take her. Said he'd make her scream. The words were on respeat in his head" That bastard.

That fucking bastard. Lucien's hands curled slowly into fists. His knuckles cracked under the pressure. The leather of his gloves groaned with strain. And then...Anna. The memory came like a blade through the ribs.

He didn't want to think of her. He hadn't allowed himself to think of her in months. Maybe years. But that voice in his head...that disgusting threat...brought her back.

Forced her forward from the grave he buried her in. His mate. Not just a woman. His soul. Anna. Eyes the color of spring after a long winter. Hair like wildfire and a laugh that used to crack through the walls of his chest and make something inside him feel alive.

The only one who could touch him without fear. The only one who ever reached into the cage and didn't flinch when the beast bared its teeth. She never flinched.

Until the day her throat was cut open right in front of him. Lucien blinked. The rain outside blurred everything. But he saw it. Like it was yesterday as the memory came flashing back in full speed.