Pain was supposed to fade. That's what they said.
But as I woke in the arms of a stranger, pain was the only thing that anchored me to consciousness.
I was draped over a horse — no, a massive black wolf — muscles rippling beneath me as he bounded through the dark.
Lucian.
His scent—smoke, leather, a wildness that didn't belong to any civilized pack—wrapped around me, thick and suffocating.
I wanted to fight him.
I wanted to curl up and die.
I wanted Ryker to come tearing through the woods, to realize he'd made a mistake, to beg for my forgiveness.
But he wouldn't.
He had chosen Celine.
He had kissed her like I never existed.
The vision of them burned in my mind, so sharp I could hardly breathe.
A broken sob tore from my throat.
Lucian didn't slow.
He said nothing.
Hours blurred together, until finally we broke through the trees into a clearing under the blood-red moon.
Stone towers rose against the sky — an old fortress, savage and crumbling, surrounded by tents and watch fires.
The rogue kingdom.
Wolves in torn clothes and scars gathered at the gates. They watched us with wary eyes, bristling with suspicion and thinly veiled threat.
"Alpha," one muttered, bowing his head as Lucian passed.
Lucian carried me straight through the courtyard, ignoring the stares. His grip on me was firm but careful — like he was carrying something dangerous that might explode.
He kicked open the heavy doors of a massive hall and strode inside.
The room was all shadows and stone, with a single throne carved from blackened wood.
He set me down—carefully, almost reluctantly—on a fur-covered couch near the fire.
"Water," he barked at a passing wolf. "And clean bandages."
I stared up at him, my body trembling.
"Why?" I whispered.
Lucian's dark eyes pinned me where I lay.
"Because you're mine now."
The fire cracked loudly between us.
"I don't belong to anyone," I spat, trying to sit up. Pain lanced through my side, forcing a whimper from my lips.
Lucian's mouth tightened, and in two strides he was crouched in front of me, grabbing my chin between his calloused fingers.
"You were a pawn in that pack of cowards," he growled. "Treated like a pretty little tool to be used and tossed away. You think you belonged there?"
Tears blurred my vision.
"It was my home," I choked. "My family."
Lucian's grip softened, but his voice stayed hard.
"They rejected you. Humiliated you. Left you to die."
He leaned closer, so close I could see the thin silver scar cutting through his eyebrow — a token of a hundred battles fought and survived.
"You survived," he said, quieter now. "You're stronger than you think, little wolf."
My heart twisted violently inside my chest.
All I had ever wanted was to be loved. To be chosen.
Instead, I was discarded like trash and dragged into a kingdom of killers and outcasts.
Lucian stood, stripping off his bloodstained shirt. His torso was a map of battles — old scars, new wounds, muscles carved from pure survival.
I turned my face away, shame burning through me.
"You'll heal here," he said simply. "You'll learn to fight. To hate them properly."
I clenched my hands into fists.
"I don't want revenge," I whispered. "I just…I just wanted to be loved."
Silence fell so heavy I could hardly breathe.
Then, in a voice so low it barely brushed my ears, Lucian said, "Love is a lie they tell you to keep you weak."
I looked up.
And for the first time, I saw it—not the ruthless Alpha everyone feared—but a man broken in ways that matched the fractures inside me.
Lucian Vale wasn't saving me.
He was claiming a weapon.
And he was about to forge me into something even Ryker would come to fear.