Chapter 3 Anna's Last Breath

He remembered her in his arms. No matter how many years passed, no matter how much blood he spilled or how many enemies he buried, that memory never left him. It wasn't just burned into his mind. It lived there.

It had teeth. It had claws. It tore into him every time his thoughts went quiet. Every time the night got too still. Every time someone said her name...or someone dared to love him. That battlefield was his grave long before his enemies knew it. Rain was falling that night too. Not like this cold, clean storm he sat in now..but thick and hot.

Rain laced with ash, with soot, with the scream of burning trees and the howls of wolves torn apart mid-shift.

The sky was black, lit only by the fires eating the edges of their camp. And she was in his arms. Bleeding. Convulsing. Dying. He remembered the way her body jerked violently, the way she tried to speak and only coughed blood, spraying it across his neck, his cheek, his lips.

He remembered her fingers clutching weakly at his coat, then sliding down like silk when her strength gave out. He remembered her heartbeat.

How it stuttered. How it slowed. How it... stopped. But the part that never left...the part that killed him every time...was the way she looked at him in her final breath. Not with fear. Not with pain.

But with love. A love so deep it broke him. "Lucien," she whispered, her voice soaked in blood, so soft he had to lean in to hear it through the crackling flames and the thunder of combat behind them.

He remembered the way her lips trembled around his name, the way she said it like a secret only they shared. He pressed both hands against her throat, trying to hold her neck together. It was gaping.

Torn wide open. Deep enough to show white tendons and glimpses of bone under all that slick, warm red. He pressed so hard his arms started to shake.

He tried to hold her life in with just his hands. But it slipped through his fingers. Warm and wet. Sticky. Endless. "No, no, no...baby, look at me," he'd pleaded, cradling her against his chest, rocking her like she was a wounded child instead of a dying warrior.

"Stay with me. You're okay. You're okay. I've got you. You're safe." Her eyes fluttered. Blood ran from her nose now too. He could feel her slipping.

He felt it. Like watching sunlight die behind a cloud. She mouthed something again. So faint. He leaned in, ears ringing, mouth dry. "I'm sorry..." Lucien froze. His entire body locked. She was apologizing.

With a throat torn open. With minutes...seconds...left to live. She wasn't scared for herself. She was sorry for him. "No," he whispered, shaking his head, his voice splintering.

"No, don't say that. Don't you fucking say that, Anna." He cupped her face in his hands, smeared blood across her cheeks, her lips, her jaw. He kissed her temple. Her forehead. Her mouth. Tasted iron and smoke. "Help is coming," he lied. "Evans is coming. Diego and Amos too. They're all on their way. Just hold on a little longer. We'll get you patched up, baby, I swear. You're going to be okay. Please don't do this to me. We are suppose to get married remember. Your wedding gown is all set.

"You're gonna look so beautiful on that day my love. Don't leave me Anna. Youre gonna get through this. Just wait a little longer. Please! Moon goddess please let her leave! I beg you!" Her eyes softened. She tried to smile. And that destroyed him. That little smile. That quiet, tragic acceptance. He shook his head again, harder this time, as if he could shake death off of her like dust.

"No, you listen to me. Don't you go. You don't fucking leave me. You're my mate. You're my future. You said we'd go to the coast, remember? You said you wanted to see the sea... Her eyes began to unfocus. Her body shivered once.

Then... stillness. Pure, unholy stillness. Lucien froze. His hands stopped pressing. His breath caught in his throat. He stared at her. Her mouth had fallen open.

Her eyes, wide and glassy, stared up at the burning sky. Nothing moved. No breath. No pulse. No twitch. Just... gone. "Anna?" His voice cracked. He leaned in. Shook her slightly.

"Anna?" Nothing. He screamed. It came from the bottom of his lungs. From the pit of his soul. It ripped out of him like a beast being exorcised. Like a curse being broken. Like love being torn out by its roots.

He didn't know how long he screamed. He didn't care. He pulled her body tighter, buried his face in her neck. Still warm. Still soft. But empty.

He kissed her again. Pressed his lips to hers. Begged. "I love you. I love you. Come back to me. Please. Fuck...please." No gods answered him. No miracles came. Only the sound of battle in the distance.

The smell of death thick in the mud. Lucien sat there with her until the fires began to die. Until the blood soaking his pants and hands and chest began to cool.

Until the sounds of the dying quieted into eerie silence. Then he laid her down gently. As if she might break. As if she wasn't already broken. He stared at her for a long time.

Then something inside him shifted. He stood up slowly. His fists clenched at his sides. He didn't wipe the blood off. Didn't fix his coat. Didn't breathe. He looked across the field. He saw them. The ones who ran.

The ones who laughed. The ones who did this. They didn't see him yet. Didn't know what was coming. He started walking. Not running. Walking.

And when he reached the first man, he didn't hesitate. He grabbed him by the jaw, lifted him clean off the ground, and crushed his skull against a tree trunk until bone split and brain matter painted the bark.

The next one tried to scream. Lucien tore out his throat with his bare hands. Then it was carnage. He didn't shift. Didn't use a blade. Just rage. His fists broke ribs. His boots shattered spines.

He punched a man until his face collapsed inward, then kept punching long after he was dead. He broke necks with his elbows. Slammed skulls into rocks. Snapped legs.

Dislocated arms. He hunted them. One by one. No mercy. No pause. No humanity. And when the last one tried to run, crying, begging, saying he didn't even touch her- Lucien didn't speak. He didn't blink.

He just carved the man's eyes out with his thumbs and left him screaming blind in the dirt. When the sun began to rise, there were no survivors. Only Lucien.

Covered in blood that wasn't his. Breathing heavily. Staring down at his hands. He walked back to her. Dropped to his knees beside her. She was cold now. Her blood drying in black streaks across her neck. He picked her up. Held her again. Didn't speak.

Didn't cry. Didn't blink. He carried her home. Not to a healer. Not to the pack. To her tree. The one by the lake. The one she loved to sit beneath. The one she once said she wanted to be buried near if she ever died young. He dug the hole with his bare hands.

He laid her body down with the same gentleness he used to lay her on their bed. He kissed her once more. Then buried her. Alone. He sat there with the dirt up to his elbows, staring at the mound, until the sun was high in the sky.

He didn't eat for three days. Didn't speak for five. Didn't sleep for eight. And when he returned to the pack, they barely recognized him. He was colder. Sharper. Meaner.

They didn't know why. He never spoke of her again. But inside? Inside the monster was born. "He said she wasn't your true mate."the voice grew louder. Lucien's nostrils flared.

His lips twitched at the corner like something wild threatened to break free from behind his teeth. He didn't believe that. He couldn't. She was his. She was.

The bond between them may not have come with glowing marks or destiny-stitched threads, but it had been forged in fire. Pain. Loyalty. Choice. She was his because he chose her. And she chose him. Every single day.

"What the fuck did fate know about love? And then he heard his name. It was faint. "Lucien!" He blinked. Didn't breathe. "Lucien!" Louder this time. Sharper. His eyes snapped open as his mind was brought back to reality. Evans.

He was leaning forward from the driver's seat, one hand still on the wheel, the other hovering cautiously in the air like he wasn't sure whether to shake him or back the fuck off.

"Alpha," Evans said again, this time softer. "You alright?" Lucien stared at him for a moment too long. Then blinked once.

"I'm fine" Evans studied him. A full second. Then another. Then leaned back into his seat with a stiffness that suggested he didn't buy it..but wasn't about to press. "You didn't look fine," he muttered.

"You looked like you were in another world." Lucien turned back to the rain-streaked window. "I was thinking," Lucien murmured. "You were thinking about her." Silence. Lucien didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Evans shifted in his seat. His voice was hesitant now, low, like he was stepping on landmines in the dark. "Was it... what that bastard said? About her not being your one true mate?" Lucien went still. Evans swallowed. Too late to unsay it. "Tell me," he said quietly.

"Was he lying?" Lucien spoke through his teeth as he looked at Evan's with eyes that would kill. "She was everything. My calm. My clarity. She knew what to say when I didn't even know what I felt.

She could touch me and quiet the violence in my blood. She could look at me like I wasn't the thing they all said I was. Like I was worth saving." A pause. So long it hurt. "She was the only thing that made me believe there was anything left of me that wasn't a fucking monster." His voice dropped. He turned his head.

"So don't fucking ask me if she was my true mate." Evans didn't speak. Just listened. Good. He knew better. He swallowed hard and nodded. No argument. No questions. Just silence as he tried to change the topic.

"I forgot to tell you. Alpha Vale sent his pack messenger. He said he's coming tomorrow... to pay off his debt". He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek slowly, his jaw flexing.

"About fucking time," he muttered, voice flat, cold, clipped. "He's been dragging his feet long enough." "It's fine," he added, quieter this time. His voice had lost all emotion. Detached. Deadpan.

"We'll be ready." Evans gave a short nod, flicked the turn signal, and merged them onto the main road. Lucien leaned his head towards the window and muttered.

"I hope he pays his debt complete if not i would fucking end him"