Lucian’s POV

The smile didn’t die until I crossed the threshold of my own home. It withered the second I saw Ragnar standing there, his arms crossed and his eyes tracking me like a predator.

"You were smiling," he noted, his voice dripping with suspicion. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I snapped, trying to brush past him. The lingering scent of Alina and the baby was still on my skin, and I didn’t want him treading on it.

"Where did you spend the night, Lucian?"

The question hit me like a physical wall. I stopped, my back stiffening. I turned to him, my voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "You don’t seriously think I’m going to give you an itinerary of my night. You aren’t my mother, Ragnar."

"No, I’m not," he shot back, stepping into my space. "But I am the one who had to count the bodies this morning. Our men were slaughtered last night."

The coldness in my chest turned to lead. I pivoted to face him fully. "Slaughtered? I didn’t authorize a single mission last night. What the hell are you talking about?"

"We didn’t go looking for it. Aiden and his pack brought the fight to us." Ragnar’s face twisted with a mix of grief and fury. "We needed our leader. We needed you. But you were fucking nowhere to be found."

The guilt was a sudden, sharp blade in my gut. "Ragnar, I—"

"It’s her, isn’t it?" he spat, not letting me finish. "You get a mate and suddenly everything we stand for goes up in smoke. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. We were supposed to be a team."

The pressure in my head was building. I needed him to back off. "We aren’t a team, Ragnar," I growled.

He flinched as if I’d struck him. A hollow, bitter laugh escaped his throat. "Oh. I see."

"I didn’t mean it like that," I hissed, rubbing my face. "Fuck. I shouldn’t have been gone. This is on me. I’ll fix it."

"No, you don’t have to fix a damn thing," Ragnar said, his voice thick with irritation. "Clearly, we don’t need you as much as we thought."

"Ragnar! Come back!" I shouted as he turned his back on me.

"Fuck you, Lucian!"

I didn’t follow him. I couldn’t. I marched to my room and slammed the door, stripping off my shirt. I caught my reflection in the glass—the angry welts Alina had tended to were gone. My skin was smooth, the Rogue healing factor having erased every trace of her touch.

Ragnar is right. You’re slipping, my wolf’s voice echoed in my mind, low and steady. She’s our mate, but we can’t let her turn us into a target.

"We aren’t weak," I snarled at the empty room. My heart hammered against my ribs. "We love her. Love isn’t a weakness."

Do you remember what love did to your father? my wolf countered.

The image hit me instantly—the smell of smoke, the sound of wood popping, and my father’s silhouette engulfed in flames. He loved. He had trusted. And he had been burnt alive for it.

He fell in love, my wolf whispered, and it cost him everything.

"Stop! I don’t want to hear it!" I roared at the empty air, silencing the wolf in my head. "Alina is right for me. I’ll fix the mistakes. I’ll kill every last one of the bastards who touched our men."

Rage fueled my steps as I stormed down to the basement. The air down there was thick—a suffocating mix of sweat, iron, and the bitter scent of grieving rogues. I could feel their eyes on me, heavy with judgment and loss. I didn’t blame them. I had let them down, and I wouldn’t do it again.

"Listen up!" I barked.

The low murmurs died instantly. Faces streaked with dirt and blood turned toward me, their expressions hardened by resentment.

"I know we lost brothers last night," I said, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. "I know you’re angry. I’m angrier. I promise you this: we are going to tear them apart piece by piece until they regret drawing breath."

A low, vibrating growl started in the back of the room, spreading until the basement shook with a collective roar. Only Ragnar remained silent, watching me with narrowed eyes.

"I am Lucian, the nightmare they tell stories about!" I growled, my canine teeth lengthening. "Tonight, we hunt."

By nightfall, the moon hung like a silver blade in the sky. The woods were alive with the sound of snapping branches and the rhythmic panting of the pack.

"Are you sure about this?" Ragnar asked, his anger having cooled into a professional, lethal focus.

"Certain." I threw my head back and let out a long, haunting howl that ripped through the silence of the forest. Then, I let the shift take me. Bones cracked and reset, fur erupted from my skin, and my claws extended, thirsting for a kill.

"They’re here!" a voice shrieked from the shadows.

I smirked behind my muzzle. One of Aiden’s scouts. We hit them like a tidal wave. I was a blur of gray and black, slashing through fur and bone. The metallic tang of blood sprayed across my coat, warm and intoxicating. This was the version of myself I understood—the killer. The fight was short, brutal, and absolute. We didn’t just win; we erased them.

As I shifted back into my human form, gasping for air and dripping with the enemy’s blood, a small, sharp sound broke the silence.

A sob.

We all froze, turning toward a cluster of bushes. A child, no older than Leo would be in a few years, stared up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. Ragnar didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, his claws out, ready to silence the witness.

"No!" I screamed.

I threw myself in front of the boy. Ragnar’s claws tore across my chest, a fresh spray of blood hitting the leaves as I used my body as a shield. The pain was a white-hot flash, but I didn’t move.

"Run!" I snarled at the boy. "Get out of here! Run!"

Terrified, the child scrambled backward and vanished into the dark woods.

"Lucian... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you," Ragnar stammered, his hands shaking as he looked at the gashes on my chest. "But why? Why did you stop me? He’s one of them."

"We don’t kill children," I snapped, the pain in my chest making my voice rasp.

"Since when?" Ragnar asked, his confusion turning back into irritation. "Since when do we have rules?"

"Since now," I growled, my eyes bleeding into a dark, supernatural black. "You don’t touch the kids. Ever."

I turned and walked away, ignoring the blood soaking my waist.

"This is going to be the end of us, Lucian!" Ragnar shouted after me. "This isn’t you! You need to fucking snap out of it!"

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was losing my edge. But the ghost of Leo’s weight in my arms was stronger than the rogue’s code. No one would die on my watch if they weren’t old enough to fight back. Not anymore.