Chapter 43: New Hope
LUCIAN’S P.O.V.
I had locked myself away in my room for more than a week—a week of silence, solitude, and the kind of deep emptiness that felt like it would stretch on forever.
I willingly put myself back in that prison I swore I’d never enter again the day my father laid dead by my feet. But here I was, my once-strong frame was reduced to a shell, haunted and worn. I could barely recognize myself in the mirror, let alone the wreckage I had done to my room. My reflection – a twisted, half-human, half-wolf form – barely looked back at me with red eyes that held nothing but despair. And every day, in my dimly lit room, I curled up in bed, waiting, pleading for Ares to answer me, to break this silence that gnawed at my soul. I needed him more than I ever had before, needed him to help me find Teresa. But he remained absent, leaving me in my misery.
Voices from the other side of my door filtered in now and then, muffled but insistent—Rylan, sometimes Alex and even Juliette who I thought hated me for what I did. Their worry was evident, the urgency in their voices sharpening with each passing day.
"Lucian, please," Rylan’s voice was a broken whisper, practically a plea. "Just let us in. Talk to us. You don’t have to carry this alone." But I couldn’t answer. What was the point? How could they ever understand this torment?
I’d lost track of how many times I picked up my phone, dialing Kenneth’s number, hoping he’d have news. Something. Anything. In times like this, I wished he was a werewolf, then I’d have kept him on mind line at every second of the day. Teresa had been missing for over a month now. Her phone was dead, no credit card transactions, no sightings—nothing but a void. Kenneth would always say the same thing, "I’m still looking, sir. I won’t stop." Each time, I’d snap the call shut, sinking deeper, my mind replaying every moment I’d had with her, every word I’d spoken, every mistake I’d made. Regret twisted like a knife inside me, tearing apart whatever sanity I had left. I was unraveling, piece by piece, and it felt as if I’d reached the point of no return.
One evening, I found myself lying on the cold, hard floor, my claws digging into my own flesh, trying to punish myself. Maybe if I hurt enough, she’d come back. Maybe if I suffered enough, it would make up for driving her away.
I was nearly asleep, delirious from exhaustion and sorrow, when I heard it—a voice, so soft I almost missed it.
"Lucian..."