"Lucien!"
The scream tore from Erald’s throat before she could think.
Lucien jolted upright in bed, just as the silver blade ca down.
It all happened in a blur.
The masked figure was fast, dressed in black from head to toe, but Lucien was faster. His hand shot up and caught the attacker’s wrist a split second before the blade could plunge into his chest. The knife still grazed him, slicing through his skin.
The masked man didn’t stick around.
Erald’s scream had ruined the elent of surprise. With a low, guttural snarl, the intruder tore himself free, leapt over the bed, and darted straight for the open balcony doors.
"Lucien!" Erald called, rushing forward, but he was already up and out of the bed, sprinting after the assassin.
Lucien reached the balcony just as the figure vaulted over the edge and disappeared into the darkness below.
He scanned the shadows. Nothing. There was no movent, just the wind and trees and stars.
Lucien cursed under his breath and stepped back inside, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath. Blood trickled down his side from the already healing wound, staining the edge of his shirtless torso.
Erald stood just inside the doorway, hands trembling slightly.
Lucien looked at her, breathless. "If you hadn’t yelled..."
"I know." She swallowed. "You would’ve been dead."
They stared at each other.
The tension from earlier hadn’t left the room, but for a mont, it paused, just long enough to acknowledge what had nearly happened.
Lucien sat down on the edge of his bed, pressing a hand to his side.
Erald moved forward slowly. "Let ..."
"I’ve got it," he said quietly, reaching for a cloth.
She crossed her arms, her heart still pounding. "You have a lot of enemies."
Lucien didn’t look up. "I do."
She exhaled. "I’d ask who tried to kill you, but you don’t seem to have a habit of answering questions."
Lucien paused, then glanced at her. "If you’d just hear out..."
Erald hesitated.
"I’m leaving in a few hours anyway," she muttered, moving to the chair near the bed. "Might as well pass the ti."
Lucien gave a small, tired smile.
She didn’t return it.
"I’m listening," she said flatly.
Lucien nodded once, then started. "What you heard is true. My father was a tyrant. But not in the way the stories paint ."
He leaned forward, his voice low. "He was Alpha of our forr pack, but all he cared about was power. When we went into drought, famine, illness... he sold people. Our own people. The weak, the sick, the old. He made deals with the Midnight Fang, sent them slaves in exchange for weapons and influence."
Erald’s stomach twisted. "Slaves?"
Lucien nodded. "That’s how I first learned about this pack. I was a boy when I watched them drag our elders out of the gates. My father didn’t blink."
"What did you do?"
"I waited. And watched. I trained. I built allies in silence." His hands curled into fists. "Then I led a rebellion."
Erald was quiet.
Lucien didn’t look at her. "We won. But during the final confrontation... my father fell off the cliffside during battle. I didn’t push him, but I didn’t reach for him, either."
He lifted his gaze to et hers. "So yes. His blood is on my hands."
Erald said nothing.
Lucien continued. "After that... I ca here. I ca to free the people he sold. The Midnight Fang was ruled by an Alpha who refused entry. He tried to have executed on sight."
Erald frowned. "So you killed him."
"I defeated him. Then, I offered his people a choice: freedom under new leadership... or more bloodshed. They surrendered, even though not everyone accepted it."
"And now they call you a tyrant."
"They tell stories, whisper lies; the ones who supported the old Alpha twisted everything. They poisoned hearts, sowed doubt. And slowly... the people I ca to save began to look at the sa way they looked at my father."
Erald sat there, struggling to absorb the weight of it all.
Lucien sighed. "The council never wanted in power. They hated that I won through strength, not birthright. And so still want dead. That much I’m sure of."
"So why didn’t you just say that?" she asked. "Why bring here and let walk blindly into the middle of your history?"
"I didn’t want you to see like this," he admitted. "I thought if I could just... show you sothing else, sothing stable, y-you’d believe in ."
Erald exhaled. "The market."
Lucien’s jaw clenched. "They hurt you."
"And you hurt them," she shot back. "Your guards brutalised people... children."
"I was scared," he said honestly. "I didn’t know if soone would strike again. I wasn’t thinking clearly."
Erald looked away.
"I’ve made mistakes," he continued. "I know that. I let fear control how I ruled. I thought strength alone would protect them. But all it did was make them fear ."
"And ," she whispered.
Lucien’s voice dropped. "I never wanted you to get caught in this."
"You brought anyway," she said, looking up. "That was selfish."
He nodded. "It was."
Erald leaned back in her chair, staring at the bloodied cloth in his hand. "So what now?"
Lucien looked exhausted. "I don’t know."
She studied him for a long ti, uncertain of what she saw in his eyes. There was still strength there, but it was cracked... worn thin.
She understood that feeling.
"I know what it’s like," she said softly. "To have people inside your own walls waiting for you to fall. To feel alone, even in your own territory."
Lucien blinked slowly, watching her.
She stood. "I’ll stay... for now," she said. "Just until we figure out who’s trying to kill you."
Lucien’s eyes widened faintly. "Erald..."
"This isn’t forgiveness," she added. "And this doesn’t an I believe you’re innocent."
He nodded quickly. "Understood."
"I still think you have a lot to atone for," she said. "But you won’t fix this by ruling with fear."
Lucien sat back, finally exhaling. "You’ll help ?"
"Let’s just call it... strategic support." She walked to the door. "I have a ride coming at dawn. If I decide you’re not worth saving... I’m gone."
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