Chapter 3: Fated
1117 Words
Ethan's POV:
The elk carries me through shadow and moonlight, back toward Red Claw territory.
Her scent still clings to my clothes. Sweet. Wildflower and rain. Underneath—terror, pain, blood. And Lucian's stench all over her.
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache.
'You felt it too.' My wolf's voice rumbles through my mind.
His name is Theron.
'The moment I saw her, I knew. Our mate. Finally.'
I don't answer. Can't.
'She's been hurt.' Theron's voice cracks. 'I smell him. Lucian.'
"Six months, imprisoned." The words taste like blood.
Rage floods our shared consciousness. Theron snarls, claws scraping against my mental barriers. 'We should have ripped his throat out—'
"And gotten her killed?"
Silence. Furious but heavy.
I remember the way she looked at me. Those eyes—blue like summer sky, but hollow. Haunted. The way she flinched when I touched her. The way she didn't believe I'd bring her home.
Lucian broke something in her.
My younger brother.
The word makes bile rise in my throat.
'Why didn't you tell her?' Theron demands. 'She's ours. She has a right to know—'
"Know what?" I snap. "That she's mated to another Hale? That she escaped one brother only to be claimed by another?"
'It's not the same—'
"Isn't it?" My hands fist in the elk's mane. "What I'm planning—what I have to do—it's dangerous. Deadly. If Father or Maria find out, they'll kill anyone connected to me. I won't put her in that position."
'You're making excuses.'
My jaw clenches. Theron's right. Damn him.
"You remember what happened to Mother, don't you?"
Theron whimpers. Low. Broken.
Father brought them home when I turned eight.
Maria. Beautiful, charming Maria with her honey-sweet voice and viper's smile. And Lucian—five years old, golden-haired, already spoiled rotten.
Mother stood in the grand hall. I remember how still she went. How the color drained from her face.
"Daniel." Her voice barely carried. "What is this?"
Father wouldn't meet her eyes. "Maria is... She and the boy will be staying here."
"Staying?" Mother's laugh was sharp. Brittle. "Your mistress and your bastard? In my home?"
"Our home," Father corrected. Cold. Final. "Lucian is my son. He deserves to be raised properly."
Mother looked at me. Then at Lucian. Then back at Father.
Something died in her eyes.
She lasted six months. Six months of watching Maria take her place. Six months of servants whispering. Six months of Father choosing them over us.
The official story was illness. Sudden. Tragic.
I knew better.
She didn't eat. Didn't sleep. She became a ghost long before she stopped breathing.
The day after her funeral, Father sent me away. "You need proper training," he said. "The Spartan Academy will make you strong."
Translation: Get you out of the way so Lucian can inherit everything.
Twelve years. Twelve years of brutal combat training. Twelve years of being forged into a weapon. Twelve years of planning my return.
"Mother didn't just die," I say quietly. "She was murdered. Not with poison or blade—with betrayal. With neglect. With Father's weakness."
Theron whimpers again.
"Maria did this. She orchestrated everything. And Father let her."
'And now she's raising Lucian to take what's rightfully yours.'
"Not just mine." My voice hardens. "Mother's legacy. Her bloodline. Everything she built—Maria wants to erase it. Replace it with her bastard son."
The elk slows as we reach Red Claw's borders. Guards patrol in the distance. I dismount, touching the creature's neck in thanks. It vanishes into darkness.
'What will you do?' Theron asks.
"Find the truth. Prove what Maria did. Take back what belongs to us, everything."
'And Emma?'
Her name sends heat through my veins. The mate bond pulls, even from this distance. Wanting. Needing.
"Twelve years I've waited. I can wait a little longer."
'For what?'
"To be worthy of her." I turn toward the fortress. Toward the viper's nest I call home. "When I find her again—and I will find her—I'll have destroyed everyone who hurt her. Starting with Lucian."
'You promise?'
"On Mother's grave.." My hand closes around the memory of Emma's frightened face. Her hollow eyes. The way she jumped off a cliff rather than return to my brother. "I'll make them all pay. And then I'll find her. I'll tell her everything. I'll give her the choice Mother never had."
Theron settles. Satisfied for now.
I slip past the guards, back into the fortress. Back into the role I've played for twelve years—the obedient first son, trained and controlled.
Emma Reid, Wait for me.
Lucian's POV:
The vase shatters against the wall. Porcelain explodes into fragments. I'm already reaching for the next thing—a mirror, an antique worth more than most wolves earn in a year.
It breaks beautifully.
"My lord—" The guard at the door steps forward. Stops when I turn.
"She jumped off a f*****g cliff." My voice is too calm. Too quiet. "Where. Is. Her. Body."
"We searched, my lord. The river below, the rocks—"
"Then search again!" The scream rips out. "Living, I want her alive. Dead, I want proof. How is it possible you found nothing?"
The guard's throat bobs. "The current is strong, my lord. If she fell into the water—"
"If?" I laugh. High. Cracking. "You saw her jump. You watched her fall. And now you're telling me she just vanished?"
My hands shake. I curl them into fists.
"The drop was over two hundred feet," he continues. Carefully. "No one could survive—"
I'm across the room before I think. My hand closes around his throat. He gasps. Claws at my wrist uselessly.
"Find her." Each word drops like stone. "Every. Single. Piece. If she's dead, bring me her bones. If she's alive—" My grip tightens. "Bring. Her. Home."
I release him. He collapses, coughing.
"Triple the search radius. Question every rogue, every merchant, every wandering wolf within a hundred miles. Someone saw something. Someone knows."
"Yes, my lord." He scrambles to his feet. Bows. Flees.
The door slams.
Silence crushes in.
I turn to the window. Stare at the forest beyond. The cliff where I last saw her.
'She'd rather die than stay with me.'
The thought carves deeper than any blade.
My little bird. My possession. Mine.
'But she isn't dead. She can't be.'
I would know. Would feel it. The universe couldn't be that cruel.
I grip the window frame. Wood cracks under my fingers.
"I'll find you," I whisper to the darkness. "Even if I have to burn this world down."
- Writer
