Chapter 93
I lowered my gaze.
To someone like Theo Hale, I didn’t even have the right to exist in his line of sight–much less expect
concern.
Every time we crossed paths, his words cut sharper than a blade. If that’s the reception I always got, why would I ever look forward to seeing him?
And now that he’d found me here… it could only mean the Ebonclaw Pack wouldn’t be far behind.
Those lunatics had already tried to trade me off like livestock–wanted me to marry into the Duskgrave family from Stormridge Pack, all for a stake in some damned Eastward development project.
I almost agreed. For Mia’s sake. For Carmen’s.
But ever since last night, when I learned my embroidery sold for a fortune, something shifted inside me.
I didn’t want to keep swallowing dirt just to survive. Not anymore.
But that required time–time to stay hidden, to make enough with my own hands to protect the only people who’d ever treated me like I mattered. Once I could get Mia and Carmen out of Mooncrest safely, I’d have nothing holding me back. No weaknesses left to exploit.
If it came down to war with the Ebonclaws, I’d burn the whole damned Pack down and not flinch.
I tried to focus on the soup in front of me–pigeon broth with goji berries–but it tasted like nothing. Like chewing on air.
Theo was still here, hovering like a storm cloud. His brows were scrunched, clearly pissed I wasn’t groveling at his feet. The great Hale heir wasn’t used to being unwelcome, clearly.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Typical.
But before he could even light it, a low, commanding voice stopped him cold.
“Don’t smoke in here.”
Lucien Duskgrave. I now knew his name.
And even though his last name was exactly the same as that of the infamous fiancé from the legends, I told myself it had to be a coincidence.
They said the Alpha of Stormridge was old, hideous, and cursed–every mate he’d ever taken had died because of him.
But Lucien… the man standing in front of me…
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There was no way he could be that Alpha.
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Finished
Lucien’s tone wasn’t loud, but it crackled with Alpha dominance so strong even I felt it brush against my skin like static.
Theo visibly stiffened. “And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”
Lucien didn’t blink. “This is a hospital.”
Theo bit down on his lip and shoved the cigarette and lighter back into his pocket like a sulky pup.
“She didn’t say anything,” he grumbled, gesturing toward me. “Why are you acting like her handler?”
I froze mid–sip, caught in the crossfire. “I… don’t like the smell of smoke.” I admitted softly.
Theo’s expression crumpled in disbelief.
He barked a laugh. “Seriously? Who even is this guy, Riley? You’re defending him like he’s your mate or something. I’ve known you for eight years and never even heard you mention him.”
I didn’t respond. What could I say?
I didn’t even know who Lucien truly was–not yet. Only that he’d helped me, twice now, when no one else had.
Theo fumed in silence for a few moments, then turned on his heel and stomped toward the door like a sulky child.
“Theo–wait!”
He paused, hand on the handle, but didn’t turn back.
Still, my voice must’ve meant something, because the air around him seemed to soften just a little.
“Please,” I said, my voice low, almost pleading. “Don’t tell the Ebonclaws I’m here.”
His shoulders tensed, then slumped.
“I won’t,” he said, quieter now. “And I won’t tell Maddox. Or Ronan either.”
Relief surged through me so fast it left me dizzy. “Thank you.”
Just two words, but Theo looked like he’d been handed a crown.
“Just get better,” he muttered, a little sheepishly. “Maybe I’ll… stop by again sometime.”
And with that, he left.
The silence that followed was like snowfall. Still. Clean.
I picked up my spoon again and resumed eating, more relaxed than I had been in days. Across the room, Lucien sat by the window, sunlight streaming across his profile, casting soft shadows over his angular
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features.
Finished
He looked like he belonged in a different world. One of marble mansions and ancient power. Everything about him—his posture, his focus, the way he turned pages of his book with deliberate care–oozed quiet strength. Controlled elegance.
I glanced at him more than once, though I tried not to make it obvious. The way the sunlight reflected off his gold–rimmed glasses made his eyes seem even deeper, darker.
There weren’t many people who made me feel safe.
Fewer who made me feel… seen.
Lucien was both.
Most of the wolves I’d known from high–ranking families were cruel behind their politeness, dressed in silk but rotted at the core. Maddox. Ronan. Even Theo, for years. The Ebonclaws, especially.
But Lucien?
He was different.
Steady. Composed. Not just powerful–gracious.
And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.
Suddenly, Lucien looked up from his book, catching me in the act of staring. His eyes locked with mine, and I forgot how to breathe.
“Still hungry?” he asked gently.
I snapped out of it, checks burning. “No, it’s good. Really good. Your grandmother cooks very well.”
I hesitated, biting my lower lip. The memory of last night surfaced–me guzzling down two entire bottles of his wine without offering him so much as a drop.
That car he drove… a Rolls–Royce. Which meant those wines probably cost more than my yearly rent.
Crap.
“About last night…” I started awkwardly, fidgeting with my spoon. “Those two bottles of wine–how much were they? I’ll pay you back.”
Lucien’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. He looked at me for a long beat, and then said, completely deadpan, “Five hundred thousand a bottle.”
My spoon clattered into the bowl.
What?
He said it so casually, like he was commenting on the weather. Five hundred thousand?
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Was he serious?
My heart sank to my stomach.
And then… the tiniest flicker of mischief flashed behind his glasses.
Oh no.
He was messing with me.
Lucien Duskgrave was teasing me.