202 Bloodlines and Breaking Points
Lucian
“I know my mother isn’t perfect,” Darian said, his voice cracking with a raw honesty that cut through the room. “But she’s not a killer. The worst she ever did was ruin breakfast with her complaining and lie about people she didn’t like. That’s it. What else did she do, Father? Because this… this is too much.”
He stepped closer, eyes burning with restrained anger.
“I’m starting to believe her when she said you never loved her. There’s not a single picture of her in this house. Not one. And you’re always the first to point out her flaws-as if she was nothing but mistakes. You did it so often, it became
normal. Routine. But this?” He gestured around us, voice rising. “Trapping her in a room like a prisoner? This is extreme.”
Darian’s voice broke, but he didn’t stop. “So she’s being blackmailed-maybe she didn’t tell you because she knew you’d toss her aside. She’s always afraid of you, and now I understand why. You’re heartless. You locked her in here like a
criminal. What’s the plan, huh? Wait her out until she starves?”
My father’s temper snapped. “No one stopped your mother from eating!” he barked, rising from his chair, face flushed.
I stepped between them, raising a hand. “Enough.”
But Darian wasn’t finished.
“Then let her go,” he said. “Why can’t you just let her leave?”
My father sighed heavily, like the weight of decades had just landed on his shoulders. “Because she hurt me, Darian,” he
said quietly. “She made me look like a fool. Weak.”
Darian shook his head. “That’s what love does to you,” he said. “Look at Lucian and Mara. Look at me and Tiffany. We’re
fools for our mates, every one of us.”
Father’s eyes darkened. “You say that now. But if you were mated to a woman like your mother, you’d understand.”
“I do understand,” Darian said, stepping back. Then he turned to me. “I love you, Lucian. But I won’t stay here and pretend
this is okay. I’ve kept quiet long enough. If what my mother said about Father is even half true, then I don’t belong here. I
can’t sit beside the man who treated her like this.”
He looked back at our father, eyes full of something between grief and defiance.
“You always made it clear Lucian’s mother was the one you cherished-the golden wife who gave you the golden son.
Fine. You don’t need me, then.”
I stood there, stunned. I hadn’t realized until this moment just how deeply this had cut Darian. Mara had warned me, and I’d brushed it off. But this wasn’t something he could just move past. Martha was his mother. Would I have done any different in his place?
“Darian, please,” I said gently.
But he shook his head. “I love you, Lucian. But I’m leaving when my mother leaves.”
He walked out with Tiffany, and the silence that followed was painful.
My father stared at the door like he was still trying to believe what just happened.
I turned to him.
“Father… maybe it’s time to give Martha one last chance. You say you’re over her, but if that were true, you wouldn’t have locked her in. You wouldn’t still be this angry. You still care-maybe more than you want to admit.”
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He didn’t argue, just kept listening.
“She’s scared. Not just of Alaric-of you. And maybe she has reason to be. But if what she said is true, then you failed her too. And that’s okay to admit. None of us are saints in this.”
I paused, then added, “If this keeps going, we’ll lose them both. I’ll lose my brother and my niece. You’ll lose your son and granddaughter. And for what? Pride? Hurt? We’re too entangled to just tear apart like this.”
My voice dropped. “I’m not judging you. I just think it’s time-really time-for the two of you to talk.”
“I still need time,” my father said, his voice firm but not cold. “Tell Darian I’ll talk to his mother. I’ll settle things-eventually. But not tonight. She doesn’t get to win every time.”
He turned and walked out, leaving Mara and me in the office alone.
She gave a small shrug and smiled, the corner of her lips curving with weary amusement. “Your first night as Alpha,” she said. “And already your office is the most dramatic room in the house.”
I stepped closer and pulled her into my arms. The scent of her, the feel of her against me, the way that red dress clung to
her-it was impossible to ignore.
“Isn’t every second in this mansion dramatic?” I murmured, and she laughed quietly against my chest.
That night, in the same office where my title had been made official, I made love to my wife-claiming not just power, but the bond we shared. It wasn’t about passion alone. It was about us-our place, our future, the weight of what we’d just
stepped into.
Later, Mara wore my shirt, her dress bundled in one arm, shoes dangling from her fingers. I’d pulled my trousers back on and was carrying my shoes as we snuck barefoot down the hall like guilty teenagers. The quiet of the mansion wrapped
around us as we slipped back into the left wing, back into our room.
I reached out, trying to link with Darian-but he was asleep. Locked off. I sighed and let it go.
Tomorrow. I’d talk to him in the morning.
One Week later
We were eating breakfast in the lounge when a scream tore through the house-raw, panicked, unmistakably Lacy.
For a second, I froze. I thought she’d already left. She hadn’t joined us for meals in days. I’d assumed she and Martha had finally been allowed to go. But apparently, security had followed orders to the letter.
We left our plates and bolted for the right wing, feet pounding on the hardwood, dread rising with every step.
Martha’s door was ajar. Lacy was inside, crumpled on the floor, sobbing. “Please get up! Mama, please!”
My father reached her first, pushing the door open wide. I was right behind him.
Martha lay motionless on the carpet, pale and still. Lacy was on her knees, shaking her, tears streaming down her face. The room smelled sharp-chemical, acidic. Poison.
No one asked questions. There wasn’t time.
My father dropped to his knees and scooped her up in his arms, moving faster than I’d seen in years. We sprinted to the car and didn’t stop until we reached the hospital.
When we arrived, the emergency staff were already outside waiting. They rushed to the car, pulled her onto a stretcher, and disappeared behind the doors with her. I stood there, breathless, heart hammering in my chest.
My father looked stunned, like someone had reached inside him and pulled something loose. Darian was pale, silent, clinging to Tiffany’s hand like it was the only solid thing in his world.
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I tried to stay calm, to be the Alpha, to hold everyone together-but I couldn’t. Not this time.
Was this what she meant when she said she was leaving? Was she always planning this?
That selfish, complicated woman… she was going to kill herself.
And we hadn’t seen it coming.
