Arin's POV
I woke up to silence.
Not the comforting kind, not the kind you slip into after a long nap in someone's arms. No. This silence was cruel. It echoed in my ears and crawled into my bones like ice. Cold. Hollow. I blinked at the ceiling of the hospital room, the sterile white above me taunting me, almost laughing. My body ached—dull pain in my back, soreness between my thighs, a stinging burn at my wrist where a needle had been removed. But none of it hurt like the empty space beside me.
Lucien wasn't there.
He wasn't in the chair by the bed where he usually sat like a shadow refusing to leave me. He wasn't pacing the room like the restless wolf he is, whispering promises of love and revenge and forever. My hand searched weakly over the bed, dragging across the cool sheets. Empty. I thought maybe he just stepped out. Maybe to grab food. Maybe to argue with a nurse about my chart because he hated when I got pain meds without his approval. He always said he wanted to watch everything that went into my body.
But it's been an hour now.
An entire fucking hour.
The guards at the door shifted every now and then, but they wouldn't tell me where he was. I asked. Once. Twice. Then I stopped. I didn't want to sound desperate.
I am not desperate.
…I was just scared.
Scared that something was wrong. Scared that he was hurt. Scared that maybe—no. No, he wouldn't leave me. Not him. Not after everything we did. Not after the way he touched me. The way he looked at me like I was his entire world. He called me beautiful even when I cried, even when I flinched from him. He kissed the scars I tried to hide. He held me through my panic and told me I was safe.
Where the fuck are you, Lucien?
I pulled the thin blanket closer, curling up on the bed like a child because it felt like the only way to keep my insides from falling out. I hated this feeling—this raw, clawing ache. I wanted him. I needed him.
I needed him to hold me.
To kiss my forehead.
To press me against his chest and whisper, "I'm right here, little tiger. I'm not going anywhere."
My lip trembled. I bit it hard.
Then the door opened.
I looked up so fast my neck cracked.
But it wasn't Lucien.
It was my father.
Of course. Fucking of course.
I tensed immediately. My body went rigid, muscles tightening in defense. He stepped inside like he owned the room, like he hadn't ruined my life a thousand times already.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, voice low, sharp.
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, your little lover called me."
My stomach twisted. "You… you talked to him?"
He gave a smirk that made me want to throw something. "Seems like you finally met someone. How sweet, by the way where your lover? "
I narrowed my eyes. "He probably stepped out to get something for me. He knows I get hungry easily. Not like you. You don't give a shit if I starve."
He chuckled—actually chuckled—like I was being cute. "Awww. But sad to tell you, sweetheart… he left."
That was when the world tilted.
"What?"
My voice cracked, weak. My heartbeat skipped, then thundered in my ears like a war drum.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Left you this."
I couldn't breathe.
I took the letter. My fingers trembled so hard I nearly dropped it. Lucien's handwriting. Slanted. Sharp. Rushed.
"I can't live with you."
"I can't be chained up like you."
"Your world is dangerous."
"I need to protect my sister and myself."
"Let's break up."
"I'm going."
"Sorry"
Each word was a knife. No—a bomb. A bloody, deafening explosion in my chest. I read it again, then again. It didn't make sense. This couldn't be real. He wouldn't write this. He loved me. He promised me.
No, no, no.
I stared at the ink, willing the words to change. Willing them to disappear.
He left me.
He left me.
My throat closed. My lungs burned. Something broke inside me—something fragile and important. The room spun.
"You're lying," I whispered. "You fucking liar."
But it was Lucien's handwriting.
I knew it better than my own.
I saw him when he always sign his at the end of his sketches
The glass on the bedside table caught my eye. It was just sitting there—innocent, untouched. I reached for it in blind fury and hurled it at the wall. The sound of it shattering was… beautiful. It matched the sound in my chest. The noise my soul made when it cracked open.
My father didn't flinch. Of course he didn't. He'd always liked watching me break.
"You better be ready tomorrow," he said, turning toward the door. "I want you back home. No more hiding in that pathetic little apartment of yours."
His words didn't land.
I was sinking. Drowning. Dying.
He walked out like I meant nothing, like he hadn't just handed me the end of the world in a single letter.
And I sat there.
Alone.
My fists clenched around the sheets. My knuckles white.
He left me?
Lucien, who whispered "mine" every time he kissed my scars?
Lucien, who begged me to open up to him?
Lucien, who cried into my chest when I flinched from his touch and swore he'd never hurt me?
He touched me. Took me. Whispered he loved me while I always told him I love her.
And now… he's gone?
Just like that?
No. No. No. No.
He's mine.
My head snapped up, fire blooming in my veins. I grabbed my phone with shaking hands. "Get me my guards," I snapped into the receiver. "Now."
When they answered, I didn't even breathe. "Track him. I want his location. I want to know every fucking step he takes. Find him."
They hesitated, probably hearing the rawness in my voice. But I didn't care.
He doesn't get to leave me.
Lucien might think he could walk away, but he was wrong. So fucking wrong. He tied himself to me the moment he touched me like that. The moment he said my name in that broken, breathless way while burying himself inside me. You don't get to leave after that. You don't get to whisper love into someone's skin and then vanish.
He is mine.
He chose me.
And now he's mine forever.
I felt it—something dark unraveling inside me. Something twisted and sharp. I laughed—low, bitter, and shaking. My nails dug into my palms until I felt the sting of blood.
"You think you can leave me?" I whispered to the empty room. "After everything? After I fall in love again?"
I stood, wobbly but determined, ripping the IV out of my arm.
I don't care if my legs break under me.
I'll find him.
And when I do…
He'll remember what it means to belong to me.
You don't leave me.
You don't love me like that and leave.
No.
Lucien…
You're mine.
Mine alone.
Forever.