LUCIAN’S P.O.V.
"Lucian... I t a man in the town I ran to. Because of him, I had to run away from the town. And I’m sure he’s coming after , even as we speak."
The mont Teresa’s words hit my ears, I felt like soone had yanked the rug from under my feet and replaced it with a bed of nails. My jaw tightened, and a deep, unsettling tension coiled in my chest like a snake getting ready to strike. A man? Ares, restless as ever, was already losing it, pacing in my head like a caffeinated hamster on a wheel.
"What man? Why was she even talking to a man? And why in the world did he seem to matter enough to make her run?" Ares was growling, spitting, and throwing a pity party all at once. And then ca the guilt trip: "This is on you, Lucian. You pushed her away. Congratulations, genius. Now there’s another man in the picture."
"Would you shut up for one second?" I snapped inwardly, pinching the bridge of my nose like that was sohow going to ease the migraine building in my skull. Outwardly, I tried to keep my composure. Barely. "Teresa, go on. Tell everything." My voice was calm, but inside, I was ready to start a one-man demolition derby.
She hesitated, her fingers twisting together like she was trying to braid invisible ropes. "I... I t him in a small town called Windre. It’s about seven or eight towns from Redfield, surrounded by mountains. The people there were so kind... but this man, Adrian, he was different. Nicer. He helped through my pregnancy, even when I refused his help..."
My jaw clenched so hard I was half-expecting to crack a molar. "Nicer? Nicer? Oh, that’s rich," Ares sneered. "Let’s see how ’nice’ this Adrian really was."
"And then," Teresa continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "everything changed the night my house caught fire. It was my fault—it was so careless of . I—"
"Wait." My voice ca out sharper than intended, slicing through her words. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Are you okay? Were you hurt?" My gaze scanned her as though injuries were going to magically pop up under my scrutiny.
"I’m fine," she said quickly, her hand landing on my arm as though to anchor . "Adrian saved . He got out just in ti."
Adrian. There it was again. His na was like a mosquito buzz in my brain—small but incredibly annoying. My fists curled instinctively. "Go on," I managed through gritted teeth, though my patience was wearing thinner than a cheap rug.
"After the fire, Adrian insisted I stay at his estate," she said, her voice trembling now. "I had nowhere else to go, and he... he was so persuasive."
Persuasive. Oh, fantastic. That’s just what you want to hear about the man who’s apparently your replacent. "Persuasive? More like manipulative," Ares snarled. "I’ll persuade his face into the dirt."
"At first, everything was fine. He was generous, even kind. But then, one night... I saw sothing." Her voice wavered, and she looked anywhere but at . "I saw sothing that scared . After that, I went into labor early."
"What did you see?" I asked, forcing my voice to remain steady even though my brain was already cataloging the worst-case scenarios. Murder? Blood rituals? A collection of taxidermied squirrels?
She shook her head, biting her lip so hard I thought she might draw blood. "I... I can’t. It’s too much."
Her heartbeat was pounding like a drum in my ears, her fear practically radiating off her in waves. "Teresa," I said softly, reigning in the storm of emotions swirling inside . "You can trust . Please."
She hesitated for a mont before her voice cracked like brittle glass. "Lucian, after the babies were born, Adrian... he changed. He wouldn’t let leave the house. I was locked inside. He said it was for my safety, but he started watching my every move. He... he beca obsessed. He loved the babies. Loved . But it was suffocating. I felt like... like I was his prisoner."
Ares let out a snarl so feral it made flinch. "Prisoner? Obsessed? Oh, we are burning that estate to the ground."
"Did he hurt you?" The words barely made it out of my mouth, sharp and jagged with the fury I was trying (and failing) to suppress.
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head like she was trying to convince herself. "He was never violent. But I was so scared, Lucian. I... I had to escape. Luckily for , Harry, Adrian’s right-hand man, let go because he didn’t really like ."
"Well, thank the goddess for Harry and his questionable loyalties," I muttered under my breath.
Ares, anwhile, was piecing things together with the grace of a rabid detective. "Windre? A hidden town surrounded by mountains, seven to eight towns away from here. Isn’t that the area we ran into problems with vampires? Isn’t that vampire territory? And this man’s na is Adrian? With a right-hand man nad Harry? Lucian, you don’t think..."
My stomach dropped. My fists clenched tighter. It couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence. "Teresa," I said slowly, dread dripping from every syllable, "what’s Adrian’s last na?"
Her brows furrowed at my question, hesitation flickering across her face. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely audible. "Daegon."
The na struck like a bolt of lightning. My chest tightened, and I felt the world tilt around . My breath caught, and a cold sweat broke out on my palms. "Daegon," I whispered, the na leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. My mind raced, connections forming and unraveling at once. "Teresa. Take the babies." I handed her the twins and leaped to my feet. This changes everything.
"Lucian," Teresa said cautiously, her voice tinged with apprehension, "do you know him?"
I didn’t respond imdiately. My mind was too consud with the implications, the dangers. Daegon. The na wasn’t just familiar—it was a warning. Finally, I forced myself to focus. "What did you see, Teresa?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. "That night you went into labor. What was it?"
She hesitated, her lips trembling, before she admitted, "I didn’t tell you because... I thought you’d think I was crazy. But I saw him, Lucian. I saw him drinking a woman’s blood." Her voice faltered, and tears welled in her eyes. "His eyes were red. He had fangs. And claws."
I cursed under my breath, running a hand through my hair as I paced the room. "This is bad," I muttered, more to myself than to her. "This is really bad."
Teresa broke down, her sobs wracking her body. "I’m so sorry, Lucian! I didn’t know he wasn’t human. I didn’t know he was... a monster!"
Her words cut deeper than I thought possible. I crossed the room in an instant, pulling her into my arms. "It’s not your fault," I said firmly, trying to keep my own voice steady. "You couldn’t have known. This isn’t on you, Teresa. It’s on . I pushed you away. I... I failed you."
Ares stirred within , his growl low and nacing. "She’s seen what Daegon is. But what will she think when she finds out what we are? What you are?"
I tightened my hold on her, my heart breaking at the sound of her cries. She felt so small, so fragile in my arms. For the first ti, I realized I had no plan. No answers. No way to make any of this right.
All I could do was hold her. For now, that would have to be enough.
After a long while of soothing hugs and whispered reassurances, her sobs finally subsided. She leaned against for a mont longer, her trembling breaths the only sound in the room. Reluctantly, I pulled away, an awkward yet necessary motion. Her warmth was comforting, grounding, but the fragile infants cradled in her arms made cautious. I couldn’t risk squeezing my babies any further, no matter how much I wanted to stay close.
Rising to my feet, I began pacing the room. My mind churned with unease, each thought darker than the last. What was I supposed to do? Adrian Daegon—a na that struck terror into even the bravest souls—was headed for Redfield. If all the rumors about him were true, then no one in this city was safe, not her, not the babies, not anyone.
A war was coming, and I knew I needed to act fast. My pack and every allied pack within reach had to be alerted, brought to a state of ergency. This wasn’t going to be a skirmish or a fleeting battle—it would be an all-out war. Adrian Daegon didn’t show rcy, and hell itself would freeze over before I let him win.
Turning sharply, I locked eyes with Teresa. She sat still, her wide, frightened gaze fixed on like a hawk tracking its prey. Her vulnerability was palpable, but so was the determination simring beneath the surface. I knew I couldn’t afford to sugarcoat my words.
"You need to move back here imdiately," I said firmly, my tone leaving no room for argunt.
Her lips parted as if to protest, but I cut her off before she could speak. "Not just you," I added, my voice hardening. "Luke and his entire family as well. If you want to keep them alive, they need to be here. Now."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Teresa clutched the baby closer to her chest, her expression a mixture of fear and reluctant understanding. I couldn’t bla her for being terrified—I was too—but survival demanded action, and hesitation could cost us everything.
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