A King in Chains

Thalia stood in the grand hall of the Alpha Mansion, her boots clicking against the polished floor. The air was heavy. Thick with tension.

It smelled the same—oak, leather, burning firewood. The same as when she ruled here. But the energy had shifted. The walls held secrets now. The kind that poisoned from the inside out.

Lucian sat on the Alpha's throne. A king—but a caged one.

He looked the part. Tall, strong, shoulders squared. A ruler in every sense of the word. But his hands… his hands betrayed him.

His fingers gripped the armrests too tightly, veins bulging beneath his skin. His knuckles—white.

Thalia's gaze flickered up to his face. His breathing was controlled, measured. But she saw it.

The flicker. The fight.

Selene stood beside him, her perfect image of Luna never wavering. Too perfect. Too polished.

Her hand rested lightly on Lucian's shoulder, a delicate, almost possessive touch.

To the pack, it was a show of unity. A symbol of strength.

To Thalia, it was a leash.

Lucian's stormy gaze met hers, blank and unreadable. But she knew him too well.

He was waiting. Holding something back.

The question was—what?

"I didn't expect you to come back," Lucian finally said, voice edged with caution.

Thalia smirked, stepping forward. One step closer. "And I didn't expect my brother to fall under a spell."

A murmur rippled through the warriors standing along the hall. Their unease was palpable.

Selene's expression didn't falter—but her fingers twitched.

A tell.

"That's a bold accusation," she said smoothly, voice even. But Thalia didn't miss the slight press of her nails into Lucian's shoulder.

Lucian stiffened. His body reacted before his mind did.

Thalia ignored Selene, keeping her focus on Lucian. Watching. Waiting.

Then, softly—just enough to cut through the fog—

"Tell me, Lucian. Do you feel free?"

A sharp inhale. The slightest flinch.

Then—something happened.

A whisper of warmth. A scent so faint, so achingly familiar, that his wolf snapped to attention.

A laugh. Soft. Sweet. A sound that didn't belong in this room of cold power and control.

A name.

Adira.

Lucian's grip on the chair tightened—his jaw clenched.

The growl started deep in his chest. His wolf was awake now. Stirring. Snarling. Fighting.

His heart pounded.

The fog thinned—just for a second.

Then—pain.

Selene's nails dug into his skin, harder this time.

Lucian flinched. The pain grounded him—dragged him back under.

The fog returned, suffocating, relentless.

The memory—gone.

Selene smiled, soft and sweet. A serpent's smile.

"Lucian and I have already made our bond official," she murmured, fingers still curled into his flesh. "This is his choice."

His wolf howled.

Trapped. Shackled. Raging.

Thalia's smirk never wavered, but inside, her stomach twisted.

He's slipping.

And she was running out of time.

The night air was sharp, thick with the scent of pine and damp earth.

Magnus paced the training yard, his jaw locked, fists clenched. Every second wasted was another second Adira was further from them.

Rowan watched him warily, shifting on his feet. "She's here to stir up trouble," Magnus muttered.

Rowan frowned. "Thalia?"

Magnus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "She plays both sides too well."

Rowan hesitated. "But… she's right about one thing. Lucian isn't himself."

Magnus stopped pacing. His breath hitched.

I know.

"And that's exactly why we have to find Adira before it's too late."

Rowan swallowed. "What if… she doesn't want to come back?"

Magnus stilled.

She has to.

"She doesn't get a choice," he said finally, voice hard. "Not when she was forced out. She belongs here."

Rowan hesitated, but nodded. Then, after a moment—

"The border."

Magnus's head snapped toward him.

"The guards won't talk, and if Lucian really wanted her gone, he wouldn't risk keeping her close. He sent her to the border."

A beat of silence. Then, a single, determined nod.

"Let's move."

Lucian sat at the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

His breathing was uneven.

The whispers were back. Something is wrong.

The fog pressed in—but it wasn't as thick now. There were cracks in it. Little holes where warmth tried to slip through.

The scent again. That damned, familiar scent.

Selene's voice cut through the haze. Soft. Deceptive.

"You trust me, don't you?"

Lucian stiffened.

A beat of silence.

For the first time—he hesitated.

Selene's pulse pounded in her ears.

No. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the vial from the folds of her dress, uncorking it. The liquid inside was thick, dark. The key to keeping him hers.

She pressed it to his lips. "Drink, my love."

Lucian's wolf snarled.

A warning. A threat.

Lucian flinched, his breath uneven. "I…"

Selene's heart clenched.

No. No, no, no.

She pressed the vial harder against his lips, her voice soft, but this time, there was steel beneath it.

"Lucian. For me."

A moment.

A pause.

Then, slowly, reluctantly—he swallowed.

Selene's body sagged in relief.

His muscles loosened. His expression blanked.

His wolf fell silent.

The spell was back in place.

For now.

But tonight something cracked.

And Selene knew—cracks turned into fractures. Fractures turned into breaks.

Thalia had stirred something dangerous.

And Magnus…

Her jaw clenched. Magnus was still out there, searching.

If he found Adira—everything would fall apart.

She needed to eliminate the threats.

Adira could not return.

Not now. Not ever.

Lucian drifted into sleep, his mind sinking into a dark, misty void. The world around him felt weightless, yet heavy—a dream, but something deeper.

A voice. Soft. Desperate.

"Lucian…"

His name, carried by the wind, fragile as glass.

He turned.

A woman stood at the edge of a vast, shadowy field. The sky above her churned with storm clouds, thunder rumbling in the distance. Rain soaked her, clinging to her torn dress, her bare feet sinking into the mud. Her dark hair was tangled, her skin pale from the cold.

Adira.

She reached for him, her eyes pleading. "Lucian… please."

His chest tightened. Something about this felt… wrong. Familiar, yet distant.

A gust of wind howled between them, and suddenly, the ground beneath him changed. The storm, the mud, the cold—it all faded.

Warmth. Light. The scent of roses and expensive perfume.

Golden chandeliers hung above him, their glow casting a soft, decadent light. A silk-draped canopy framed a bed fit for royalty. The air was warm, fragrant with honeyed wine and fresh linens.

And there, reclining in luxury, was her.

Selene.

Draped in satin, her hair flowing in waves, she extended her hand toward him, her lips curved into a smile.

"Come," she whispered, her voice a melody of promise.

A strange comfort settled over him. He moved toward her, stepping onto the plush, velvet carpet. The warmth enveloped him, numbing the chill that had lingered in his bones.

But—

"Lucian!"

A sharp cry. A sob.

He froze.

Behind him, Adira.

Still in the storm. Still calling for him. Her hands clutched the air as if trying to reach for him, though an invisible barrier separated them.

"Please… don't leave me."

A part of him ached—an ache he didn't understand. His wolf stirred, restless.

His hands clenched.

Go back.

A whisper, deep in his bones. Something inside him begged him to turn around.

But then—soft fingers traced over his arm. A delicate, intoxicating touch.

Selene.

Her voice was silk, her presence warm. "Stay with me, my love."

His body obeyed before his mind did.

He stepped forward.

Adira's breath hitched.

"No…" she whispered, shaking her head.

Lightning cracked behind her, illuminating the devastation. She was drowning in the storm, sinking, reaching.

He could save her.

He should save her.

But he didn't.

His feet carried him further into the golden light, closer to Selene's embrace.

The moment he reached her, the storm behind him collapsed—the ground swallowing Adira whole.

Her scream echoed.

Then—silence.

Lucian jolted awake, breathless, his pulse hammering in his ears. His heart ached, his body rigid with an inexplicable tension.

A dream.

Just a dream.

But something inside him felt lost.

Selene stirred beside him, her fingers grazing his hand. "You're trembling," she murmured sleepily.

Lucian exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples.

"It's nothing."

But deep inside, his wolf growled.

Because it wasn't nothing.

And something had just slipped through the cracks.

Unbeknownst to Magnus and Rowan, a pair of amber eyes gleamed from the darkness.

A rogue, crouched in the treetops, had been listening.

Every word. Every plan.

His lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

Fenrir would want to hear this.

He turned, vanishing into the night.

The hunt for Adira had begun.