The streets of Raven Hollow pulsed with a quiet intensity, the kind that seeped into Aria's bones and refused to let her rest. The city never truly slept; its heartbeat was constant, carried in the echo of distant footsteps, the murmur of voices behind shuttered windows, and the faint hum of tension that tied everything together.
Aria moved like a shadow, her hood pulled low over her face. She had left the pack's compound against Alpha Roderick's orders, her need for answers outweighing the consequences she knew would come. Lucien's name was a poison now, whispered in the corridors, etched into the sharp lines of her alpha's face.
But Aria couldn't let it go. Something about the vampire prince didn't add up.
She rounded a corner and slipped into an alley, her boots splashing in shallow puddles left by the earlier rain. Her wolf senses were on high alert, her ears catching every rustle of fabric, every faint breath carried on the wind. Somewhere in this maze of stone and shadow, there was a source—a truth waiting to be uncovered.
And then she felt it.
A presence, heavy and unmistakable.
She froze, her hand instinctively going to the blade at her side. The air grew colder, and the shadows seemed to deepen, pressing closer around her.
"Out alone, little wolf?"
The voice was smooth, unhurried, and carried an edge that made her pulse quicken.
Aria turned slowly, her hand still on her blade. Lucien stood at the far end of the alley, his silver eyes catching the faint light and glowing like twin moons. He was dressed in dark, tailored clothing that made him look every inch the predator he was—a vampire prince, the monster her kind had been hunting for generations.
"I don't remember inviting you," she said, her voice steady despite the tension coiling in her chest.
Lucien smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You didn't need to. Your restlessness called to me. You've been searching, haven't you?"
Aria's grip on her blade tightened. "What do you want?"
"What I want?" Lucien tilted his head, his expression almost amused. "That's a dangerous question to ask someone like me. Are you sure you're ready for the answer?"
She didn't reply, her eyes narrowing as she measured the distance between them. He wasn't close enough to strike, but she knew better than to underestimate him. Vampires were fast—faster than even the strongest wolves.
Lucien took a step closer, his boots silent against the wet stone. "I spared you, Aria. And yet here you are, stalking the shadows like a hunter. What is it you're looking for? Justice? Revenge? Or something else entirely?"
His words struck a nerve, and Aria clenched her jaw. "I don't owe you an explanation."
"No, you don't," Lucien agreed, stopping a few paces away. His gaze softened, just enough to make her hesitate. "But perhaps I owe you one."
Aria blinked, her breath catching in her throat. "What are you talking about?"
"The war," he said simply, his voice quieter now. "The bloodshed, the chaos—it's not what you think."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, really? Then why don't you enlighten me? Because from where I stand, it looks like your kind is doing just fine, tearing the world apart."
Lucien's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or something deeper. "You see only what you've been taught to see. The vampires are not as unified as you believe. There are factions, divisions—ambitions that go beyond mere survival."
Aria's heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to dismiss his words, to call him a liar and walk away. But something about the way he spoke, the quiet conviction in his tone, made her pause.
"Why are you telling me this?" she demanded.
"Because you're not like the others," Lucien said, his gaze piercing. "You don't follow blindly. You question. You think. And whether you realize it or not, that makes you dangerous—to your pack, to me, to everyone."
Aria's grip on her blade faltered, just slightly. "I don't trust you."
"Good," Lucien said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Trust is earned, not given."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. The rain began to fall again, soft at first, then heavier, until the sound of droplets hitting stone filled the space between their breaths.
Aria didn't know what to say, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Lucien was the enemy—he had to be. But his words planted seeds of doubt that she couldn't ignore.
Before she could decide what to do, Lucien stepped back, his form blending into the shadows as if he were part of them. "Be careful, Aria," he said, his voice a whisper on the wind. "The truth is rarely kind. And once you see it, you can't unsee it."
And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the alley, the rain washing over her like a cold baptism.
Aria stood there for a long moment, her hand still on her blade, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know what she was feeling—anger, confusion, fear—but she knew one thing for certain.
This wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.