Chapter 5

Lucien’s POV

The moment Vikar’s body hit the ground, the Great Hall exploded into chaos.

Weapons were drawn. Guards rushed forward. The Omegas scattered, fear flashing in their wide eyes. My mother stood frozen, her expression unreadable—but I knew her well enough to sense the calculation behind her silence.

I barely had time to process what had just happened when a familiar voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“I told you I was coming back.”

A slow, deliberate grin stretched across Darren’s face as he emerged from the shadows.

Darren.

The bastard had returned.

I took a step forward, instinct already sharpening, my pulse steady despite the rising storm. My wolf stirred inside me, restless—but that hesitation, that cursed resistance, still lingered.

Darren shouldn’t be alive.

He was supposed to be dead.

The last time we fought, I left him bleeding out in the snow, his pack scattered, his claim to the throne shattered. He should not be standing here, grinning like he owned the damn room.

And yet, here he was.

“You.” My voice was low, controlled, but there was no mistaking the deadly promise beneath it.

Darren’s grin widened, flashing teeth that were sharper than I remembered. His eyes glowed—not gold like they once were, but something deeper. Darker. Red.

Something was wrong.

“I told you this is not the end,” he said, stepping closer, his confidence unshaken. “I am coming back for what belongs to me.”

Then he moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

Before I could shift, before I could think, Darren lunged. His claws sliced through the space between us, aiming straight for my throat. I dodged—just barely—feeling the sharp wind of his attack as I twisted out of reach.

My wolf wanted to fight, but something inside me resisted. I gritted my teeth, pushing through the unnatural hesitation. This wasn’t the time for doubt.

Darren came at me again.

This time, I met him head-on.

I shifted mid-air, fur erupting across my body as I collided with him in full force. The impact was bone-rattling. We tumbled across the floor, clawing, biting, slamming into the pillars that lined the Great Hall.

Marble cracked under the force.

I barely had time to register the fight when another presence entered the fray.

The masked figure.

They moved like a shadow, weaving through the chaos with deadly precision. One of my guards lunged at them, but they sidestepped, swift and fluid. A dagger flashed—one clean slice—and the guard dropped, clutching his throat.

Who the hell was this?

Darren laughed, watching the masked figure cut through my warriors like they were nothing.

“This is only the beginning, brother.”

I snapped.

A deep, guttural snarl ripped from my throat as I drove Darren back. My claws found purchase in his side, tearing through flesh. Blood sprayed across the marble, but Darren barely flinched.

Instead, he grinned.

Then he healed.

Right in front of me.

The deep wounds I inflicted closed instantly, the torn skin knitting itself back together like it had never been touched.

Dark magic.

He was using dark magic.

“You think you can kill me?” Darren taunted, his voice distorted, layered with something inhuman.

I didn’t answer. I only attacked.

We clashed again, a blur of movement, teeth and claws tearing at each other. He was stronger than before, faster, but I had fought him before—I knew his weaknesses.

I twisted, using his momentum against him, and slammed him into the floor. The marble beneath us shattered.

Darren coughed, but the damn bastard was still smiling.

A sudden, sharp crack echoed behind me.

The masked figure had just driven a blade straight through another guard’s chest.

That was the final straw.

I ripped myself from Darren, ignoring the deep claw marks he left across my torso. Whoever this assassin was, they were either with Darren—or worse, working for someone else.

I needed to know.

I lunged.

The masked figure dodged.

Fast. Faster than I expected. They twisted at the last moment, their body a blur of agility, but I was faster. My claws barely missed their throat, nicking the fabric of their cloak instead.

They landed lightly, eyes locking with mine.

And for a split second, something flickered in those eyes.

Recognition?

No. Something more.

The hesitation cost me.

A blade flashed.

Pain seared through my side.

They got me.

I growled, spinning, but they had already retreated, melting back into the shadows as if they had never been there.

Darren chuckled behind me.

“That one’s not yours to kill,” he taunted.

I didn’t take my eyes off the spot where the masked figure had disappeared.

Darren was one thing—his fight was personal.

But this assassin?

They were something else entirely.

The doors to the Great Hall burst open.

My warriors flooded in, weapons drawn. Finally,

Darren clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk. Looks like our fun is over—for now.”

I didn’t move.

I was bleeding. My body was screaming at me to shift back, to heal.

But I refused to look weak in front of him.

Darren took a slow step back, his red eyes glowing in the dim light.

“This isn’t the end, brother.”

Then he did something that sent ice through my veins.

He disappeared.

One moment, he was standing there, grinning like a lunatic. The next—gone.

Vanished.

Not even a scent trail left behind.

Dark magic.

A growl rumbled deep in my chest.

Darren was supposed to be dead.

And yet, he had returned—stronger, faster, and protected by magic I didn’t understand.

And then there was the masked assassin.

I turned, scanning the room, but they were gone too.

One of the bodyguard stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “Well,” she said, voice cool, “this certainly complicates things.”

I ignored him. My focus was elsewhere.

On Darren.

On the fight that was far from over.

And on the mystery of the assassin whose dagger was still lodged in my side.

I yanked it out, my blood dripping onto the floor.

This wasn’t just an attack.

It was the beginning of something much, much worse.

And I had the feeling it wasn’t Darren I needed to worry about the most.

It was them.