His Stray

Chapter 15

Present Day

Lucas watched her walk off, her shoulders stiff, Brady trailing behind her like a kicked puppy. Her face… the hurt was clear as day. It cut deeper than he expected, leaving something cold and hollow in his chest.

He started to stand, but one of the warriors clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him forward. “Man, what was that about?” the guy laughed. “You trying to earn some extra scraps from the stray’s kitchen?”

Another chimed in, smirking. “Maybe he likes getting his hands dirty. The stray is kinda hot and I bet she can live up to her reputation as a freak.”

They laughed loudly as Lucas clenched his jaw. He could still see Celia’s face in his mind, the way her eyes had darted towards him, almost hopeful. But they only shuttered in pain when she realized he wasn’t saying anything. A dozen retorts burned on his tongue, but none of them made it past his teeth. Instead, he just shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the mess still scattered on the floor.

The laughter kept going. They kept making jokes, but Lucas couldn’t really hear them over the rush of blood in his ears. He didn’t want to be here anymore. Without a word, he turned and stalked off, ignoring their jeers as he pushed through the door and out into the cooler night air.

The silence outside was immediate. His heart was still thundering, every muscle wound tight. Why hadn’t he said anything? Why hadn’t he told them to shut the hell up? He could still feel the ghost of her hurt eyes following him, and it made his stomach twist in shame.

He was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice Jeremiah standing near the steps until the gamma’s son called out.

“You alright, Lucas?”

Lucas blinked and looked over. Jeremiah was leaning against the railing, arms crossed, eyes sharp under the fringe of his light brown hair.

“Yeah,” Lucas muttered. “Just needed some air.”

Jeremiah watched him for a long moment, then nodded toward the dining hall. “Wasn’t right. The way they were talking about Celia.”

Lucas’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t reply.

Jeremiah pushed off the railing, coming a little closer. “Weren’t you two friends when we were kids? Seemed like it, from what I remember.”

Lucas stared at a spot on the ground. “We were.”

“So what happened?”

Lucas opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he even say? That his father had made sure to drive a wedge between them? That he’d been too much of a coward to stand up for her, even as a kid, and apparently still was? Instead he just gave a small, helpless shrug.

Jeremiah studied him for a second more, then sighed. “It’s messed up. The way people treat her. Always has been.”

Lucas didn’t trust himself to respond. He just nodded, feeling that same ugly guilt gnawing at him.

Jeremiah clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, alright. But maybe… next time, act like the alpha and don’t let them talk to her like that.”

Then he walked off, leaving Lucas standing there under the porch light, head down, feeling more ashamed than ever.

**

Lucas waited.

He stayed around the side of the pack house long after most of the warriors had finished their dinner, long after the last of the kitchen staff had walked off into the night, laughing and chatting about plans for their free hours. He watched the windows, waiting until he was sure it was just her left.

Then he slipped in through the back door.

The kitchen was quiet except for the gentle scrap of Celia’s knife on the cutting board. She stood at the counter, her back to him, shoulders stiff.

Lucas hovered by the door for a second, taking a breath. Then he stepped inside.

“Celia.”

She didn’t turn. Didn’t even pause in her cutting. “Kitchen’s closed. If you’re looking for leftovers, there’s nothing.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Her tone was sharp. She slammed the knife down and finally turned, crossing her arms over her chest. Her face was flushed, her blue eyes dark with anger. “Then why are you here, Lucas? Here to help the stray clean up her trash again?”

He flinched. “Don’t. That’s not what I…”

“You didn’t even say anything,” she cut in, her voice trembling with fury. “They called me that right to your face, and you just stood there.”

Lucas shoved a hand through his hair, trying to swallow the sour taste in his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say, alright?”

“That’s always your problem,” she snapped. “You never know what to say when it matters.”

He felt heat rise up his neck. “I came here to apologize. To talk about us. What it means now that we know we’re…”

“No.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t say it.”

“Why not? We’re mates, Celia. That means something. It’s the Moon Goddess herself who…”

“It means nothing,” she spat, tears bright in her eyes. “It means you’d have to actually tell people about me. About our relationship. And you won’t. Because you never have.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “That’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair?” She shook her head, breathing hard “You’ve always cared more about what everyone else thinks. About what your father thinks. You couldn’t defend me today. You never could. You’re too scared of him to ever do what’s right.”

He felt that like a punch straight to the gut. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” she said, voice breaking. “You’re a coward, Lucas. Always have been. Maybe you do care about me somewhere under all that fear, but it’s never enough.” She gave a small broken sob. “I’m never enough.”

Lucas took a step forward, but she backed away, her hand flying up like she might ward him off. His breath came quick and ragged, shame and anger and pain all twisting together so tight he felt like he might come apart.

“Get out,” she whispered. “I’m done having this fight with you. Just… go.”

He stood there for a long second, his jaw tight, something sharp burning behind his eyes. Then he turned and stormed out, slamming the kitchen door behind him so hard the shelves rattled.