Donna's POV
Sleep wouldn't come.
No matter how many times I turned, how tightly I wrapped myself in the blanket, my mind refused to quiet down.
His scent still lingered in the room, faintly earthy, laced with something warm like smoke and pine. It unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.
When he'd left, I thought I'd finally be able to breathe. But the silence he left behind felt heavier than his presence.
I pushed off the bed, rubbing my arms to fight the chill. The moonlight slipped through the curtains, casting pale stripes across the floor.
Somewhere in the hallway, I could still hear faint footsteps, his maybe.
Before I could think too much about it, I moved.
The door creaked softly as I opened it, and a cool breeze rushed in from the corridor. My heart thudded.
I didn't even know why I was following him, only that I couldn't stay there, surrounded by ghosts and questions.
By the time I caught sight of him, he was at the end of the corridor, heading toward a set of stairs that spiraled down into the courtyard.
"Alpha," I called softly.
He turned, surprised. "Donna?"
I caught up to him, slightly breathless. "I… I couldn't sleep," I said quickly before he could ask. "I thought maybe… you could show me around. You mentioned earlier."
He hesitated. "It's late."
"I know." I offered a faint smile. "But I'm not feeling well, and sometimes a walk helps me clear my head."
He studied me for a short moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he nodded once. "All right. But stay close."
I fell into step beside him as he led the way out into the night.
The Shadowfang grounds were different in the moonlight, softer somehow. The towering walls that had seemed suffocating in daylight now shimmered like silver lines against the dark sky.
The air was crisp and cool, filled with the distant sound of crickets and the low hum of wolves on patrol.
"This," Dane said, gesturing to the wide courtyard, "is where the warriors train every dawn. You'll hear them sometimes. It's loud."
I nodded, taking in the rows of weapon racks and dummies. Everything here spoke of discipline, order, and war.
He pointed next to a cluster of smaller stone buildings beyond the courtyard. "Those are the quarters for the sentinels and their families. They've served this pack for generations."
"And the big building beyond?" I asked.
"The council hall," he said. "Where disputes are settled, alliances signed, and rogues judged."
His tone when he said rogues carried a dark edge that made me shiver.
I tried to keep the conversation light, but every path we walked led to something that hinted at power, hierarchy, or bloodshed. He ruled this place not just by birthright but by fear and respect.
"Do you ever get tired of all this?" I asked softly after a while. "The duty, the people watching you, the weight of it all?"
He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Tired?" He gave a small, humorless laugh. "Sometimes. But when you're born into something, you don't get the choice to step out of it."
I understood that too well.
We walked along a narrow stone path lined with flowers that seemed to glow faintly under the moonlight. It was quieter here, almost peaceful.
"What is this place?" I asked.
"My mother's garden," he said. "She planted every flower here herself. She says it reminds her that beauty can survive even in a place built on war."
His voice softened when he spoke of her. I could hear the affection beneath the restraint.
"She's kind," I murmured.
"She is," he agreed. "Too kind for the things she's seen."
I wanted to ask more about him, about what he'd seen but the question that had been clawing at me since earlier slipped out instead.
"What about before?"
He glanced at me, frowning slightly. "Before?"
"Your former bride," I said carefully. "Clara mentioned her. I didn't mean to pry, I just…"
His expression shuttered instantly, his jaw tightening. "There's nothing to say."
The sharpness of his tone startled me. I stopped walking.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I shouldn't have asked."
He sighed, turning away slightly. "No. It's not you. It's just… not something I like to talk about."
His voice was quiet now, but there was something raw under it, grief, maybe. Or guilt.
I nodded, pretending I understood, even though a part of me wanted to ask why the pain in his eyes looked so familiar.
So I said nothing. We walked in silence, our footsteps soft against the stone path.
After a while, he started talking again, this time about the land beyond the walls, the villages that thrived under his protection, the old forests that guarded the borders, the training fields, the river that marked the end of their territory.
I listened. Not because I cared about the geography, but because his voice low, deep, certain had a strange way of calming the unease in me.
He was different from how I'd imagined an Alpha would be. Less arrogant. More controlled. And yet, something in him felt… dangerous. Like a fire barely kept in check.
When we reached the last bend before returning to the manor, my steps faltered.
The world spun suddenly, the ground tilting beneath my feet.
"Donna?"
I barely heard him before my knees gave way. The dizziness came fast like a wave crashing over me and I stumbled forward.
But before I could hit the ground, strong arms caught me.
"Easy," he said sharply, one hand steadying my back, the other under my knees. "You shouldn't have pushed yourself."
His scent enveloped me again dark and warm and the strength in his grip felt both foreign and familiar at once.
My head fell against his chest, and through the haze of exhaustion, I heard my own voice whisper, barely audible.
"Lucien…"
The name slipped out before I could stop it.
He went rigid. "What did you say?"
But I didn't answer. The world was already fading again, the darkness pulling me under. The last thing I felt was the slow, steady rhythm of his heart against my cheek and the faint tremor in his breath.
Then everything went black.