Chapter 6

Celine’s pov.

The car ride was suffocating. I sat rigidly in my seat, hands clenched in my lap as I stared blankly out the window. The city lights blurred past, but I barely saw them. My mind was still stuck in the mall, in that moment when Lucien raised his hand, in the way the Alpha King had stopped him so effortlessly. Lucien had almost hit me...in public.

I swallowed hard, gripping my dress tighter. He had never been affectionate, never the kind of husband to hold my hand or whisper sweet words, but he had never been outright violent either. Until tonight.

But that wasn’t the only thing that unsettled me, it was his silence. I had expected him to lash out the moment we got in the car, to yell at me for embarrassing him, for drawing attention. But he didn’t. He didn’t even look at me. Instead, his grip on the steering wheel was tight, and his knuckles went white. His jaw was clenched, his entire body stiff as though he was battling something inside him.

I stole a glance at him, my heart pounding. He wasn’t just angry. He was afraid. But of what? The question sent a shiver down my spine. What did the Alpha King say to him?

I turned away, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. The car felt smaller with every second, like the walls were closing in. I needed air, space—something to clear the heaviness in my chest.

The mansion loomed ahead, its dark silhouette waiting for us. Lucien pulled into the driveway and stopped the car engine. He didn’t move, just sat there, fingers still wrapped around the wheel.

I hesitated. “Lucien…”

“Go inside.”

His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. But there was no heat behind it, no anger, just exhaustion.

I stared at him, searching for something…anything that would explain this sudden change in him. The man beside me wasn’t my husband, at least not the one I knew. Lucien never backed down. He never hesitated. But tonight, he wouldn’t even meet my eyes. Something was wrong.

A chill crept up my spine, but I said nothing. Instead, I opened the door and stepped out. As I walked toward the house, I felt his gaze on me, lingering like a shadow. The moment I stepped inside, I exhaled, pressing a hand to my chest. The tension in my body refused to ease. The air inside felt just as heavy as the car.

The house was quiet, except for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. A reminder that time was moving forward, but my mind was still stuck in that moment.

I slipped off my shoes, my feet aching from the evening, but I couldn’t bring myself to go upstairs just yet. Instead, I walked toward the sitting room, my fingers brushing against the polished wood of the furniture as I passed. Why was he so quiet?

I replayed the scene in the mall over and over in my head. The way the Alpha King had stepped in. The way Lucien had stopped in his tracks when he saw him. The flicker in his eyes—recognition, surprise… and something deeper. Something I couldn’t quite place. Lucien wasn’t just caught off guard. He was shaken.

I rubbed my arms, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping over me, it wasn’t just tonight’s incident, it was everything. The way Lucien had been acting lately. The hushed conversations behind closed doors. The sudden tension in the air.

The front door clicked shut. Lucien had entered the house. I stiffened, but I didn’t turn around. I could hear his movements, the rustle of his coat as he removed it, the sharp exhale of breath as he ran a hand through his hair. Normally, he would go straight upstairs, ignoring my presence entirely. But tonight, he lingered.

Seconds turned into what felt like minutes before he finally spoke.

“You shouldn’t have embarrassed me like that.” His voice was low, controlled, but there was something to it.

I turned slowly, meeting his gaze. He was standing near the doorway, his face expressionless. But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the stiffness in his posture.

I forced myself to stay calm. “I didn’t embarrass you,” I said quietly. “You embarrassed yourself.”

His eyes darkened…a familiar warning. But something was different this time. He didn’t immediately snap. He didn’t lash out or raise his voice. He just stared at me, as if he was seeing me for the first time. Or maybe as if he didn’t know what to do with me anymore.

My stomach twisted. I needed to know. “What did he say to you?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

Lucien didn’t respond right away. Instead, he moved past me, heading toward the small bar in the corner of the room. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, then, finally, he spoke.

“That’s none of your concern.”

I clenched my fists. “It is my concern if it has to do with me.” I said.

Lucien chuckled, but there was no amusement in it. He took a sip of his drink before turning back to me. “You think everything is about you, don’t you?”

For a moment, he went silent. Then, with slow steps, he walked toward me, stopping just close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“You should worry less about me,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “And more about yourself.”

Lucien was many things—manipulative, selfish, cold. But for the first time, I realized something else. He was afraid. My thoughts kept getting clouded, even as I lay in bed later that night, sleep didn’t come easily.