Sold To The Savage Alpha

"Alpha Lucien...f..fuck..yes! Please..please, harder!" The brunette's scream shattered into sobs as her body slammed against the surface of his desk.

Her cheek was mashed to the cold glass, tits flattened, mouth drooling, throat hoarse from how long he'd been using her.

Her ass was high in the air, legs spread wide, pussy stretched tight around the monstrous cock pounding into her like a weapon. Lucien didn't even look at her face.

He grunted once..low and bored..his eyes locked on the creamy ring of filth foaming around the base of his cock as he rammed into her cunt like she was nothing more than a hole to be used and discarded.

"Fuckin' loud today, aren't you?" he muttered, yanking her hair back. "What's the matter? Thought you liked being my fuckpet." She whimpered, nodding, desperate. "I do..I do...Alpha, I love..." "Don't." His voice dropped into a growl.

"Don't you dare say that word. You're not here to love me. You're here to take cock. That's it." He pulled out just to the tip and slammed back in so hard the desk actually shook.

Her scream cut off into a gagged sob as her entire body jerked forward. "That's what I fucking thought.

"Now shut up and cum for me like the good little cumdump you are." He gripped her hips like handles and used her, no rhythm, no tenderness, just raw power...just the brutal sound of slick flesh slamming against flesh.

Her pussy squelched wet and messy, juices dripping from her ruined slit to the floor in a steady stream. The whole office smelled like sex, like sweat, like Alpha heat.

"You like this desk, sweetheart?" he sneered, voice dripping with mockery. "Had three others on it before you this week. You're just the warm-up." She moaned like a broken whore.

"Alpha...please...your knot... "You want my knot, bitch? What makes you think you're good enough to take it?" His hand came down in a brutal smack across her ass.

"You beg for it, but all I see is a soaked little slut who can't even hold in her cream. You're dripping all over my fucking floor. Pathetic." Her legs trembled violently as she squirted again, completely helpless, her pussy convulsing around him in a gush of filth. Lucien laughed..cold and cruel.

"That's it. Cum all over your Alpha's cock like a needy little house pet. Ruin the fucking floor for me. That's what you're good for." He reached forward, grabbed her by the throat, and pulled..forcing her back into an arch so he could watch his cock disappear over and over into her raw, used hole.

His knot was swelling now, thick and angry, and she was choking on her own moans. "Say it. Say what you are." "I'm your...your puppet...your hole...please Alpha, knot me! Breed me like the mutt I am!" Lucien grinned.

The first real expression on his face. "That's the spirit." "You like this cock, don't you?" he growled, yanking her hair so her back arched and her scream tore through the air.

"Say it." "Yes, Alpha," she gasped. "I...fuck...I love it..." He pulled out slowly, just the tip left inside her, and she cried at the emptiness. Her walls clenched like they were starving. Lucien smirked, eyes flashing with savage heat. "Then beg me for it."

She moaned helplessly, thighs shaking. "Please. Please, Alpha, don't stop, I need..." He slammed into her so hard the desk scraped across the floor. She screamed.

Her whole body went limp, her eyes rolling back as she came without permission, gushing all over his cock, soaking his thighs. Her knees gave out, but Lucien didn't stop.

He dragged her back up by her throat, pounding her from behind, her pussy dripping and overstimulated, tears pouring down her cheeks as he fucked her through it.

"Pathetic little cunt," he hissed into her ear. "You can't even stay conscious with my cock inside you." She sobbed. He grabbed her jaw, twisted her face toward him, made her look at him as he fucked her through it all.

"You think this is the best you'll ever get?" he asked coldly. She nodded, delirious. "Yes...Alpha...yes..." "Wrong." Lucien pulled out, thick cock coated in her slick, twitching with need. He grabbed her by the hair, shoved her to her knees between his legs.

"Open your mouth." She obeyed instantly. He shoved his cock past her lips, down her throat, no warning. She choked, tears streaming, her hands gripping his thighs like he was the only thing keeping her alive.

Lucien moaned...low, dark as he threw his head backwards, His hand fisted in her hair, guiding her head, using her mouth like it was nothing more than a wet hole designed to take his cock.

"Fuck, you're better like this," he snarled, his eyes locked on her ruined face. "On your knees, drooling on my balls, throat full of Alpha cock."

She gagged and whimpered, mascara running down her cheeks, spit glistening on her lips as she stared up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes. He pulled out with a growl, dragged her back up to her feet, spun her, and bent her back over the desk.

"Still not done," he muttered, sliding his cock back into her dripping pussy with a grunt of satisfaction. She sobbed. Came again. And this time, he let himself go. Lucien buried himself to the base, his knot swelling, stretching her until she screamed and came again, her body convulsing around him as he fucked her through orgasm after orgasm.

He bit her shoulder. Hard. And dipped his claws into her skin. And when he finally came..when his cock exploded deep inside her, pumping her full until she couldn't even hold herself up anymore..he just exhaled and let her collapse. He pulled out without a word.

She lay there. Shaking. Whimpering. Wrecked. Lucien walked away, still half-hard, wiping his hands on a silk towel like he'd just washed his car. She struggled to sit up. Her dress was ripped. Her legs were useless.

Her breath shaky. "Alpha..." she whispered, voice hoarse. "When should I come back? When will you need my service again?" Lucien turned slowly. Lit a cigar. Took a deep drag.

Then crossed the room in three slow, heavy steps. He grabbed her jaw so hard her lips parted. His voice was a low, dangerous snarl.

"When I need your fucking service again" he said coldly, "I'll let you know" He shoved her back. "Now get the fuck out of my office before I snap your neck! I'm done with you" She didn't say another word.

Just grabbed her heels, stumbled barefoot across the marble, and vanished through the door, soaking wet and destroyed. Lucien stood in silence.

His chest was bare. His cock still thick. His hands still twitching from the violence of release. Just as he was about to go for an important meeting, his phone buzzed. He picked it up as he looked at the caller ID. Evan's. What the hell does he want?

"Speak to me Evan's! And I swear to the moon goddess if it's not something of importance I'd rip your fucking head off and feed it to my dogs! Evan's voice crackled on the other end, calm and cold. "We found him Alpha" Lucien's jaw clenched. Muscles flexed. Something inside him snapped.

His voice dropped to a whisper, a low husky whisper thst honestly would send a shiver down anyone's spine. "I'm coming" That was all it took. Lucien dropped the phone without looking. His jaw clenched, muscles twitching in his neck as silence pressed against the room like a loaded gun.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. The kind of breath a man took right before he did something irreversible. His skin was still hot from the sex. His cock still heavy, his body still humming from the girl's screams echoing off the desk.

But the tension in his bones was changing. Shifting. Not lust anymore. Something colder. He walked across his office, as he reached the edge of the bookcase and pressed his palm against the wall.

A soft hiss broke as a hidden door opened, revealing the room no one dared to enter. The walls were black. The weapons gleamed. He stepped inside.

"He thinks he can fuck with me," he muttered to himself. "He thinks he can get away with what he did" He opened a drawer. Pulled out his gloves. Thick, black leather. Lined with iron. He slid his hands into them, fingers curling one at a time.

One punch was enough to shatter bone. A second? It wouldn't leave a face behind. You'd ask yourself what kind of Alpha did that. What kind of Alpha needed spiked gloves and silence to kill. Oh, dear reader. Lucien Virelli wasn't like other Alphas.

He wasn't just a wolf. He wasn't just a king. He belonged to the mafia...the supernatural kind. The kind that made the strongest packs kneel and beg not for peace... but to be spared. He didn't play politics.

He didn't forgive. He didn't show mercy. He fucking erased. "One punch," he whispered, staring at his reflection in the steel panel. "That's all it'll take. Maybe two if I feel merciful." He smiled at his own lie. Lucien didn't know mercy. Didn't care for it. He was carved from something colder than right or wrong. He grabbed the shirt hanging from the hook. Black silk. Expensive.

His kind of armor. He threw it on without bothering to button it past his navel, letting the tattoos over his chest and ribs show like a warning. He strapped a blade to his thigh. Slid two silver daggers into the hidden sheaths at his sleeves.

Tucked a gun behind his back. "You made me come off my high for this," he muttered, rolling his neck. "So now I'll return the favor." He walked to the mirror. Bloodshot eyes. Heavy breath. Sweat still slick across his collarbone. The scar along his jaw stood out under the lighting.

He looked like a man who had just finished fucking and was already craving a body to bury. Not the kind you bury with tears. The kind you bury in pieces. He reached for the cigar he'd left burning on the edge of the glass shelf. Took a slow drag.

The smoke curled through his lips as he stared into the glass, eyes cold, dead, hungry. "You had your chance," he whispered. One more drag. One last breath.

Then he crushed the cigar beneath his glove, turned toward the door, and smiled without warmth. "Time to kill."

*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.

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"