Divorced by the Alpha, Claimed by the Rogue

Lucian’s pov

The silence from Alina was killing me.

Three days. No calls. No messages. Not even a single fucking read receipt. Every ring that went to voicemail felt like a knife twisting deeper in my chest. I told myself she was busy, that Aiden was watching her like the parasite he was. But the longer it stretched, the louder the doubt screamed in my head.

What if she’s done with me? What if she finally realized I’m not worth the risk?

I couldn’t wait anymore. Tonight, I was getting answers.

The mansion loomed ahead like a dark crown against the night sky. I moved like a shadow—silent, careful, heart hammering against my ribs. I’d studied the patrols for weeks. I knew exactly when the guards rotated and which cameras had blind spots. Scaling the wall and slipping through the garden was easy. The hard part was keeping my breathing steady as I reached her window on the second floor.

It was unlocked. Good girl.

I pushed it open and slid inside, landing softly on the plush carpet. The room smelled faintly of her—jasmine and warm skin—but the scent was weak. She wasn’t here. My stomach tightened.

Then I heard footsteps in the hallway.

My lips curved into a smile before I could stop it. Finally. I turned toward the door, ready to pull her into my arms and demand why she’d been torturing me.

But something was wrong.

I couldn’t pick up her scent.

The footsteps grew closer. Heavy. Confident. Male.

Fuck.

I dropped low and slid under the bed in one fluid motion, heart now pounding for a completely different reason. Dust tickled my nose. From my hiding spot, I could see the doorway clearly. Expensive black shoes stepped into the room. Aiden.

Rage boiled up so fast I had to clench my jaw until it hurt. This is how he comes into her room? Anytime he fucking wants? Like he owns her?

Another set of footsteps followed. Lighter. Softer.

Alina.

Her scent hit me like a drug—sweet, warm, hers—and for a second it calmed the storm inside me. Then I heard her voice.

"You don’t need to keep checking on me, Aiden."

His laugh was low and condescending. "I’ll check on you as much as I like. Especially now."

There was a pause. I saw his shoes move closer to hers.

"Don’t even think about going against me or trying to leave just because Emily is pregnant," he said, voice dropping into a dangerous tone. "I won’t let you go, Alina. Not now. Not ever."

My fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to burst out from under this bed and rip his throat out. The image played so vividly in my mind—his blood on my hands, Alina finally free—that I had to force myself to stay still. Not yet. Not like this.

Alina’s voice was quiet. Too quiet. "I won’t disobey you."

The words sliced through me sharper than any blade. Disappointment crashed over the anger, heavy and cold. Why are you submitting to him? Fight, baby. Please fight.

Aiden made a satisfied sound. His shoes turned and walked out. The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence.

Then, softly: "You can come out now."

I froze for half a second. She knew.

I crawled out from under the bed and rose to my full height. Alina stood near the window, arms wrapped around herself, watching me with those beautiful eyes that always saw too much. I didn’t smile. I couldn’t.

"Why are you here, Lucian?" she whispered.

"Because you stopped answering me." My voice came out rough. "Three days, Alina. I thought something happened to you. I thought—" I stepped closer, searching her face. "What did I do wrong? Tell me so I can fix it."

She looked away. "Just go."

"No." I caught her hand, holding it tightly—too tightly. My thumb brushed over her knuckles like I was afraid she’d disappear. "I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. I’m begging you, Alina. What the hell did I do?"

Her eyes met mine, flashing with pain. "When were you going to tell me Emily is carrying your child?"

The question hit like a punch.

I let out a half-laugh, bitter and disbelieving. "She told you that?"

Alina tried to pull her hand away, but I held on, desperate.

"Baby, listen to me. Emily is a liar. She’s always been a liar. That child is not mine. I haven’t touched her in months—months. I swear on everything I am. You know me. You know I wouldn’t hide something like that from you."

She searched my face, doubt and hope warring in her expression. I stepped closer until our bodies nearly touched, pouring every ounce of truth into my voice.

"I’m not the father. And even if I was, which I know I am not,it wouldn’t change how I feel about you. Nothing changes this. Nothing changes us."

The fight slowly drained from her shoulders. She leaned into me, forehead resting against my chest. Relief flooded through me so strongly my knees nearly buckled.

"I was scared," she whispered.

"I know." I tilted her chin up. "But you don’t have to face him alone anymore. Why didn’t you tell me he’s been like this? I never would’ve let you come back here if I knew—"

She smiled sadly and pressed a finger to my lips. "Don’t worry. It will all get sorted. I’ll leave. I promise."

I wanted to argue, to throw her over my shoulder and take her away tonight. But the look in her eyes stopped me. For now, I just pulled her closer.

Our kiss started desperate—teeth and hunger and all the fear of the past three days. Then it deepened, turning obsessive, emotional, like we were trying to pour our souls into each other. My hands gripped her waist, hers fisted in my shirt. I tasted salt—maybe her tears, maybe mine. I didn’t know anymore.

When we finally broke apart, breathing hard, I rested my forehead against hers.

"Next time I come here," I whispered, "it’ll be to take you away for good."

I kissed her once more—soft this time—and slipped back out the window before I lost the strength to leave her behind.

The night air felt colder without her.

But for the first time in days, hope burned in my chest.