Chapter 32
LUCIAN’S P.O.V.
I sat there, slumped in my leather chair, staring at the scattered documents on my desk without really seeing them. The stacks of contracts and reports that usually commanded my focus now felt meaningless, their words blurring into a fog. An emptiness pressed against my chest, so sharp it felt almost tangible. The only sound in the room was the steady, hollow ticking of the clock on the wall, each beat driving the ache deeper, like it was marking the distance between me and Teresa.
Ares lay silent in my mind, brooding in a darkness I hadn’t felt from him before. He hadn’t so much as growled since this morning. It was as though he was punishing me with his silence, withholding even the smallest hint of his presence. I should have been relieved—this silence, this distance, was exactly what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? A chance to be alone, to keep Teresa from getting too close, from seeing parts of me I wasn’t ready for anyone to see, from turning into a wreck like my father. But now, with Ares simmering in the background and Teresa gone, it felt as though someone had taken a knife and sliced away half of me, leaving a hollow space in its place.
A sigh escaped me, heavy and full of bitterness. But before I could sink deeper into that emptiness, the door swung open with a loud bang, shattering the silence. Rylan and Juliette stormed in, their faces a blend of panic and anger. They stopped just inside the doorway, catching their breaths, both of them staring at me with wide, searching eyes.
My heart clenched. I knew exactly why they were here. The pack knew by now. Everyone knew. I’d sent Teresa away, and judging by the expressions on Rylan and Juliette’s faces, I wouldn’t get out of this easily.
Rylan’s voice was rough, edged with a kind of fear I rarely heard from him. “Lucian, please—please tell me you didn’t send her away.” His voice trembled, the disbelief clear in his eyes, as if he were begging me to say it wasn’t true.
I forced myself to meet his gaze, struggling to keep my expression as flat and unreadable as possible. “I did,” I replied, my tone as empty as I felt inside. Yet, even as I spoke the words, they felt like stones in my mouth, heavy and bitter. The weight of the admission pressed me deeper into the chair, choking me with the finality of it all.
Rylan’s face paled, his disbelief transforming into something raw and broken. He sank down into the chair across from me, his usually calm, reliable presence now shaken, leaving him looking empty. His gaze turned glassy as he tried to process my words, a look I’d never seen on him before—lost, pained. Juliette, standing beside him, sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes flashing with shock and heartbreak. I knew that look too well. It was the look of disappointment.
“Why, Lucian?” Her voice was a whisper, barely audible, as though speaking any louder would shatter her fragile heart. “She’s your mate p>
The word hit me like a kick to the gut, pulling me back to all the moments we’d shared—the way Teresa laughed at my sarcasm, the way she looked at me with those big, trusting brown eyes, blissfully unaware of the darkness that ran through me. I gritted my teeth and looked away, forcing myself to mutter, “It’s better this way.” The words tasted sour, filling my mouth with the bitterness.
For a moment, the room fell into a tense, suffocating silence. Then, Juliette’s gaze shifted, hardening with anger. Her eyes blazed as she took a step closer, her voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “You’re acting like a damn fool,” she snapped, her tone piercing. Her words were sharp, cutting through my defenses with ease. “Lucian, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You can’t just throw her away like this. You need to go after her—crawl if you have to—and bring her back p>
Her words flared something in me, something defensive and stubborn. I wasn’t used to being challenged like this, my instincts protested. Anger rose within me, mixed with my own guilt and frustration. “Watch it, Juliette,” I said, my voice cold and cutting. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you can talk to me any way you want. I’m still your Alpha p>
Her face fell, the spark in her eyes dimming as my words sank in. For a brief moment, I saw the sadness in her gaze, the hurt. But just as quickly, she masked it, replacing it with a steely, formal expression. She dipped her head in a reluctant bow, her voice a low murmur. “Of course, Alpha p>
The title felt like a blow, but I forced myself not to flinch. She held her head high, each word weighted with cold formality. “I’m sorry for meddling in your affairs. It won’t happen again.” And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, her anger radiating with every step. She didn’t look back, didn’t hesitate. Rylan called after her, but she didn’t answer, her silence louder than any words she could have thrown at me.
I watched her leave, my anger fizzling out, replaced by a wave of guilt that only seemed to deepen the hollow ache inside me. I’d pushed away one of the few people who dared to care about me. Juliette wasn’t just my friend, she was my best friend, I had sworn never to use my alpha authority on her but today I broke that promise, and now I was left with nothing but silence and regret.
“Lucian,” Rylan’s voice brought me back, his tone gentle yet laced with disappointment. He looked at me, his eyes pleading, filled with a concern that nearly undid me. “Why did you talk to her like that? She was only trying to help p>
I ran a hand over my face, feeling the weight of my decisions pressing down. “I… I don’t know,” I muttered, my voice strained. “I’m just angry… at myself. I took it out on her.” My voice trailed off as I realized how empty that excuse sounded. The truth was, I was terrified—terrified of how much Teresa had gotten under my skin, of the way she made me feel things I’d spent years trying to bury and how Ares was captivated by her withdrawal withstrain.
Rylan sat in silence, watching me with a sadness that seemed to mirror my own. “What happened, Lucian?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What made you send her away p>
I swallowed, the memory from last night searing into my mind. “Ares… he took control,” I confessed, my voice breaking slightly. “He… he mated with Teresa. I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t control him, Rylan. I wasn’t even awake for the act. And when I woke up… I couldn’t stand it. So, I sent her away p>
Rylan’s face twisted, the horror in his eyes mingling with empathy. “Lucian,” he murmured, his voice tight. “What Ares did was… wrong. But to send her away afterward? Like she didn’t matter p>
I looked away, the shame clawing at my chest. “I know,” I muttered. “But it’s for the best p>
Rylan’s gaze held steady, firm yet understanding. “You can’t run from this, Lucian. She’s your mate. Denying that bond… it’s tearing you apart. It’ll tear Ares apart. The pack needs a strong Alpha. Not a broken one p>
I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the cracks show. “Ares will come around. He’s just sulking p>
Rylan’s faint, sad smile lingered, a look too full of pity and understanding for my liking. His gaze was piercing, seeing past every shield I’d tried to put up, straight into the deep ache I kept hidden. “You’re breaking your own heart, Lucian,” he murmured, his voice soft but unyielding. “You’re trying to cut yourself in two, to deny the goddess will and what’s inside you. But this… it doesn’t just go away.” His words settled heavily in the silence, like a weight pressing into my chest, forcing me to confront the truth I’d been so desperate to bury.
A wave of defensiveness rose in me, and I straightened in my chair, clinging to the only shield I had left: my pride. I squared my shoulders and forced my voice into a low, steady murmur. “It’s for the best,” I insisted, as though repeating it might make it real. “I won’t regret it.” My voice was almost convincing, calm and sure, but even as the words left my lips, I could feel them crumbling like dry ash in my mouth.
A silence fell between us, thick and unforgiving, filled with all the unspoken doubts and fears clawing at the edges of my mind. I wanted to believe it was for the best, that I was doing the right thing. But there, in that stillness, a quiet, gnawing doubt crept in, insidious and relentless. It was a soft whisper at first, a faint voice tucked away in the corner of my mind, but it grew louder, filling the room like a ghostly echo. It whispered that no matter how much I tried to justify it, I would never truly be whole without her. I hated it.