✦ Chapter 11 ✦
The mansion loomed in the pale morning light, its stone walls still clinging to night's last shadows. Lucien stood before it without speaking, the quiet weight of his presence settling over the guards like a shroud. His hair — long, white, and silken — had been tied back into a low bun, though several strands had slipped free, drifting against the angled lines of his face with a softness that did nothing to warm his expression.
Today, his face was a mask of winter.
Unbroken. Unreadable.
Cold in a way that felt carved, not worn.
Beside him, the beta guard shifted uneasily. His eyes followed Lucien's rigid posture, then the direction of his stare. A single window on the highest floor — a place most would overlook, yet Lucien's gaze clung to it as though the world narrowed to that point alone.
The guard cleared his throat carefully. "Is there something else you want to bring, Alpha Lucien?"
Lucien's eyes slid toward him — golden, sharp, almost predatory in their intensity. The guard froze under that stare, breath caught somewhere between his lungs and fear. Only when Lucien looked away again did the man exhale, shoulders sagging.
"No. I don't need anything else," Lucien replied.
Liar, something whispered in the back of his mind. Soft, insidious, and not entirely wrong.
Because there was something he wanted.
His gaze rose again to the window — and there he was.
Elian.
Seated quietly by the glass, as if waiting for sunlight to decide whether to touch him. His hair fell over his shoulders in a spill of white silk, catching the morning's first glow. Even from a distance, Lucien could see how those violet eyes shimmered faintly, stubbornly bright despite the pain etched beneath their surface.
Elian looked like a ghost still tethered to the world by sheer force of beauty.
Lucien drew in a breath, closing his eyes for a heartbeat. Too beautiful, he thought bitterly.
Too beautiful for a world sharpened by cruelty.
And beauty never survived long in the hands of wolves.
He turned, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips before he could stop it. The guards stiffened, uncertain whether the sound was humor or something far more dangerous.
"Should we request a carriage, Alpha?" one asked cautiously.
Lucien shook his head. "No. We walk. It isn't far."
Without another word, he started down the road. The guards hurried to match his stride, their footsteps echoing faintly in the early light.
The sky was beginning to unfurl, streaks of orange bleeding into soft blue as the sun pushed itself over the mountains. A quiet hush lingered in the air — the fragile moment before the kingdom fully woke.
"Why did my father call for me?" Lucien asked suddenly.
The guards exchanged glances until the eldest stepped closer.
"I believe Alpha Silvermoon wishes to discuss… the matter of the next pack ruler."
Lucien didn't respond immediately. His jaw tightened, the only hint that the words had struck deeper than the guard intended.
By the time they entered the heart of the Bloody Diamond Pack, the streets had begun to fill. Vendors called out to passing customers, their voices rising in warm, practiced tones. People bowed when Lucien passed — polite, reverent, and hollow.
They looked alive.
So alive it almost seemed convincing.
Lucien's lips twitched, though the sound he made wasn't a laugh — more a low, mirthless exhale.
Kind eyes often hid the ugliest hearts.
Cruelty wore smiles better than kindness ever did.
Let them smile.
Let them pretend.
He refused to.
The palace gates appeared ahead, gold-tipped and imposing. Vynn stood waiting just inside them, her smile as polished and false as ever.
"Brother," she cooed. "I didn't think you'd come. I assumed you'd be too busy with your omega."
Her sarcasm dripped like venom disguised as honey.
Lucien didn't even slow. He walked past her without acknowledgment, and her smile collapsed, slipping into a glare she wasn't fast enough to hide.
The guards bowed once more and took their leave. Lucien's steps echoed through the palace halls, and maids reacted the same way they always did — eyes widening, hands pausing mid-task, heads bowing swiftly as if afraid to draw his attention.
Good.
Fear was useful.
He reached the throne room and stilled. His eyes narrowed, a faint surge of irritation darkening the air around him.
On his father's lap sat a stranger — an omega. The scent of fresh tulips drifted through the room, soft but potent, awakening something primal beneath Lucien's stern composure. His Alpha bristled instinctively, recognizing the scent, rejecting it, questioning it.
"Found a replacement for Mother so soon?" Lucien said, voice cold enough to frost the air between them. It wasn't asked.
It was spoken like a truth.
A blade.
The omega on his father's lap stiffened.
Lucien didn't care.
Something deep within him twisted — not jealousy, not anger, but something older and strangely hollow.
Because while tulip-scented strangers sat on thrones…
the boy with violet eyes still sat alone in a window of a home that wasn't safe enough for him.
And Lucien felt the weight of that truth settle heavy on his shoulders, as inevitable as the dawn breaking behind him.
✦ End Of Chapter ✦