(Luca's perspective)
I used to believe in things like love. Loyalty. Humanity. I thought those things made us strong—made me strong.
They didn't. They made me weak. A fool. A dreamer who thought he could keep his world intact with hope and sheer determination.
But hope is a liar.
It whispered in my ear for months, telling me she'd come back. That I'd find her. That Quinn would be okay.
She wasn't.
I knew it the moment I burned the last picture of her. The edges curled under the flame, the image of her face shrinking into black ash. That photograph was the final piece of her—the last link to the boy I used to be.
The boy who searched for her.
The boy who loved her.
Gone.
I stood there, staring into the fire as the smoke curled into the night sky. My hand tightened around the lighter until my knuckles turned white. This was it. The final step.
I let the lighter fall into the flames and with it, I let Quinn go.
I used to think I was different from my father. That I could lead this pack with honor, fairness, even compassion. But compassion doesn't hold a pack together. Fear does. Ruthlessness does. Power does. I understand that now.
I've become him. My father. Cold. Calculating. Unforgiving...and it feels… right.
Because emotions don't keep you alive. They don't protect the pack. Strength does. Control does. The pack doesn't need a dreamer. It needs a leader. Someone who doesn't hesitate. Someone who isn't afraid to make the hard decisions. Even if it means killing those who stand in my way.
I walked back to the main house, the scent of smoke still clinging to me. Inside, the pack members moved with purpose, each one careful to avoid my gaze. They feared me now. Good. Fear keeps them loyal. Fear keeps them obedient.
The last time one of them questioned me, I tore his throat out in front of the others. He thought he could challenge my authority, that I was weak without her.
He was wrong. I'm stronger than I've ever been.
"Alpha," Marcus greeted me at the door, his expression neutral, but I could see it—the flicker of concern in his eyes. He's always been the one who watches too closely, who questions too much.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice cold, detached.
"There's… a situation," he said carefully. "Ash, Nick, and Ethan are waiting in the east wing."
I nodded and walked past him, the weight of my position pressing on my shoulders. They didn't see it yet, but they would. Every decision I made was for them. For the pack. Even if they hated me for it.
When I entered the room, the tension was thick. Ash leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Nick sat on the edge of a table, looking like he wanted to punch something—or someone. Ethan paced back and forth, his hands clenched into fists. And Kimmy… she stood in the corner, her eyes shadowed with worry.
None of them liked the new me. They didn't have to.
"What's this about?" I asked, my tone flat.
Ash was the first to speak, his voice low and measured. "We need to talk about you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Me?"
"You're not the same, Luca," Kimmy said softly, her voice almost a whisper. "Since Quinn—"
"Don't." My voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "Don't say her name."
Kimmy flinched, and for a moment, guilt twisted in my chest. But I buried it. Emotions are a weakness. I don't have time for them.
Nick jumped in, his frustration evident. "You've changed, man. You're turning into him."
Him. My father.
Good.
"The pack needs strength," I said, my tone unwavering. "Not weakness."
"We're not saying the pack doesn't need strength," Ethan said, stopping his pacing to face me. "But you're ruling with fear. People are afraid to speak. To breathe."
"They should be."
"They shouldn't," Ash shot back, his eyes blazing. "This isn't who you are, Luca. This isn't who we are."
I stepped forward, my gaze locking with Ash's. "Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is the pack."
Marcus, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was calm, steady. "The Luca you knew died when Quinn disappeared."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
"She's not coming back," Marcus continued. "And neither is he."
Kimmy's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. "There has to be a way to—"
"There's no way," Marcus said firmly. "We have to deal with the new ways."
Ethan shook his head, his frustration boiling over. "There's always a way. We can get him back."
"Can you?" Marcus challenged, his gaze cold and unwavering. "Or are you just clinging to a ghost?"
I didn't say anything. I didn't need to. They could talk about bringing me back, about fixing what was broken, but they didn't understand.
There's nothing left to fix. This is who I am now. The Alpha they need. The Alpha they'll follow even if it means they hate me for it. Even if it means I hate myself.
"Are we done here?" I asked, my voice icy.
Ash's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "For now."
I turned and walked out, my footsteps echoing in the silence. But their words stayed with me, swirling in my mind like a storm.
But some things aren't meant to be fixed – some things are just too broken.
As I stepped outside, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it a scent that made me freeze.
Faint. Barely there. But unmistakable.
Quinn.
My heart clenched, the cold mask I'd built cracking for a split second.
No.
It couldn't be.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. To focus.
But the scent lingered, haunting me like a ghost.
And for the first time in months, a single thought pierced through the cold.
Will she come back to me? And what do I do or say if she does?