Lucien’s POV
I HAD never been a man built for patience. Waiting, watching, holding still—it went against every instinct I’d honed as an Alpha, as a Thorne. And yet here I was, trapped in a safehouse that reeked of antiseptic and stale air, pacing like a caged wolf while Celina lay pale and fragile on the bed.
My chains weren’t iron or steel. They were her. The faint rise and fall of her chest, the soft shiver of her fingers when a nightmare gripped her, the way her lashes fluttered when she dreamed of things she never told me. My whole body was wired with a terror I refused to name.
Because the Seer’s voice still crawled in my head.
Because Kael’s promise—“Only one Alpha leaves this city alive”—wasn’t a threat. It was a prophecy.
And now, as if the fates enjoyed mocking me, he was her
