Chapter 53 – The Anguish and the Departure
Lucien POV
The world went silent.
Or maybe it wasn't the world—it was me.
The mate-bond snapped like a frayed wire. Pain like nothing I had ever known tore through me, deep into the marrow, into the places no one else had the right to touch. It wasn't just loss. It was betrayal, guilt, fury, heartbreak, and something darker: a knowledge that I had crossed the line, taken something irreplaceable, and now nothing could undo it.
I fell to the ground, hands pressed to my face, shoulders shaking. My breath came ragged, ragged in a way that made my ribs ache, my throat raw. Every heartbeat was a hammer against my skull, every thought a jagged knife.
Hazel.
Her name was a curse and a prayer at once. She had trusted me. She had believed in me. And I… I had done what was necessary, yes, but at what cost?
Tears burned my eyes. Uncontrollable, unrelenting. I let them fall. I had never cried like this before, never allowed myself to dissolve in front of anyone. But the battlefield—the silence—the weight of what I'd done—it demanded it.
I looked around. The ashes of Helena's army drifted like snow in the pale dawn light. The United Packs were alive, safe, cheering, crying, hugging, celebrating—but I felt nothing but a hollow ache. The golden aura still lingered faintly around me, a whisper of Helene's presence, steady and calm. It did nothing to soothe the storm inside.
I staggered to my feet, knees trembling, legs heavy as if filled with lead. My hands shook, claws digging into my palms, leaving shallow lines. The Red Wolf energy pulsed faintly beneath my skin, impatient, urging me to act, to move—but I couldn't. Not here. Not now.
Hazel would come. She would. But I couldn't face her. Not yet. Not when her eyes would find mine and see the blood on my hands—the blood I didn't regret but couldn't forgive myself for.
I turned my back to the battlefield. To the laughter, to the cries, to the first glimmers of life returning. I let the wilderness swallow me.
Trees blurred past as I ran, feet pounding dirt, roots catching my ankles, branches whipping my face. Pain, exhaustion, guilt—all of it fueled me. The forest became my refuge, my confessional, my tomb. I didn't stop until the sounds of life faded behind me. Until the battlefield was gone. Until it was just me and the night.
I fell against a rock, chest heaving, head tipped back. The stars blinked above, distant, uncaring. My hands covered my face again. My mate. My queen. My light. My heart.
And now she was gone from me, not by death, but by the fracture I had caused.
I screamed into the night, raw, primal, soul-shattering. My roar echoed through the cliffs, through the empty valleys, and for a moment, the universe seemed to answer in kind.
I would not return yet. I could not. Not until the anguish eased, not until my grief became something I could carry instead of something that would drown me.
Helene's presence hummed faintly in my chest. A reminder. A whisper. A guide. She would wait. She always waited.
And so I disappeared into the wilderness, carrying my heartbreak like armor, my guilt like a blade. Alone.
Because some wounds were too deep, some choices too permanent, for the world to witness.
I had won the war. But I had lost myself.
And for now… that was enough.