Chapter 4: Lucien’s Truth

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I demanded, my voice shaky but firm.

Lucien stood in the doorway, his figure a shadow against the fading light. I could feel the tension in the room—the air thick with something I couldn’t name, but it wasn’t hatred. It was something else, something raw and unexpected.

“I’m waiting,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You always keep me in the dark. Well, no more. I want to know why.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned me as if measuring whether or not I could handle the truth. I barely noticed the sweat trickling down my temples from the backlash of magic I’d just unleashed. My head throbbed, my energy drained, but I wasn’t backing down.

“I want to know why you’re so cruel.” The words spilled out before I could stop them, rough and desperate. “Why do you hurt me? Why do you enjoy it?”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. But then, something flickered in his gaze. A flicker of something human. Regret? Pain? I couldn’t tell.

“I never wanted to be this way,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. His voice wasn’t the commanding growl I was used to—it was softer, almost… tired. “But you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” I snapped, still on my knees. I wasn’t going to back down. Not anymore. Not when I could feel the power inside me stirring again, demanding to be used. “Tell me. Why do you do this? Why am I nothing but your puppet, your plaything?”

Lucien looked away, his eyes distant as he took a slow step forward. He didn’t touch me. But there was something in his posture—almost like a man on the edge of a precipice.

“My father left me when I was too young to understand it,” he finally said, his voice rough. “He abandoned me without a word, without a care. And my mother… she…” He swallowed, and I saw a flash of pain cross his face. “She died when I was still a child. I had no one. No one to teach me how to be anything but what I had to become.”

I blinked, his words catching me off guard. I hadn’t expected this. Not from him.

“You became cruel because of them?” My voice softened, though I didn’t mean for it to. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

Lucien’s gaze hardened again, but I noticed the subtle twitch at the corner of his lips. He didn’t respond immediately, as though the question itself had torn something open inside him.

“I became this way because the world didn’t care,” he said, his tone low, like he was speaking to himself again. “I had to survive. If I didn’t learn to take control, to dominate, I would’ve been left broken. Like them.”

I swallowed, unsure of what to say. Part of me wanted to reach out to him. To show him that there was another way, that he didn’t have to stay in that dark, bitter place. But then, the memories of the pain he had caused me, the cruelty in his eyes, stopped me.

“You’re not the only one with a broken past, Lucien.” My voice was quieter now, and I didn’t recognize the sorrow that had slipped into my words. “I’m not your enemy. I’m not your possession either. You don’t own me.”

His lips curled into a half-smile, but there was no amusement in it. “You think you can change me?” He raised an eyebrow. “You think you can fix me?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my heart beating erratically in my chest. “But I can’t just keep living like this. Not with you. Not under your control.”

There was a long silence, and then Lucien stepped forward closer this time. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the intensity of his presence overwhelming, like the calm before a storm. His eyes never left mine as he crouched down, lowering himself until he was at my level.

“I never wanted you to be my puppet,” he said, his voice strangely gentle. “But I didn’t know any other way.”

My breath caught in my throat as his large hand reached out—hesitated—then slowly, cautiously, touched my arm. The contact sent a jolt through me. Heat rushed to my skin, and my heart thundered in my chest. I jerked back instinctively, pulling my arm away, but Lucien’s fingers lingered, a quiet strength holding me in place.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer at first. His hand dropped to his side, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. There was something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place—something broken, something vulnerable.

“I want… I want to know why you’re different,” he muttered. “Why can’t I break you? Why do you fight so hard?”

The words stung, but they also confused me. The man who had tormented me, who had treated me like an object, was asking me why I wouldn’t break. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

“Because I’m not weak,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “I may not be as powerful as you, but I’m stronger than you think.”

For a brief moment, something flickered behind his eyes. A look I couldn’t place. And then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Lucien rose to his feet, and I followed suit, standing slowly, my knees protesting. My body was sore from the magic I’d unleashed, but I stood tall.

“Get up,” Lucien said abruptly, his voice returning to its usual harshness. “You’re not finished yet.”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to understand where this was all coming from. But he didn’t give me time to process.

“Don’t think for a second that this is over,” he warned, his gaze darkening. “This—” He waved his hand between us. “This will never be over.”

I clenched my fists, trying to calm my racing pulse. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

Lucien’s lips curled into a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. “No. You should be.”

Before I could react, there was a sound—faint at first, like a distant howl, but then growing louder, more insistent. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned toward the window, my stomach dropping as I saw the shape moving in the trees outside.

Lucien’s eyes flicked to the same spot, and I saw something shift in him. Was it fear? No. It was something darker. Something dangerous.

“They’re coming,” he said, his voice a low growl. “And you have no idea what you’ve just unleashed.”

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. “What do you mean?”

Before Lucien could answer, the door slammed open, and I spun to face the new threat.

And then, I saw him.

The figure standing in the doorway wasn’t Lucien. It wasn’t anyone I recognized. But I knew who he was.

“I’m here for her,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “And I will not be denied.”