A Broken Alpha Heiress' Revenge novel Chapter 317

Chapter 317

Lucien’s POV

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My throat felt as though a blade had lodged itself there, sharp and merciless. I couldn’t force sound out at first, only the ragged pull of my breath. Grief surged like a flood through my chest, drowning reason, drowning restraint.

And then I looked down–into the eyes of my daughter. Eyes wide, bright, filled with expectation so pure it carved me open.

Steel spikes drove into my heart. My wolf clawed inside me, howling against the cruelty of truth. How could I speak it? How could I tell this pup–so small, so fragile—that her mother, Riley, the very soul of my being, no longer walked this earth?

But I was Alpha–born. Lies curdle in the blood. To deceive her would be a wound she’d carry forever.

So I forced the words out, though they shredded me. “Little one… your mama has gone very far away. But she watches you always from above, and her greatest wish is for you to grow strong and happy.”

She tilted her head, trying to comprehend, her young heart catching only the edges of the truth. A flicker of sorrow touched her eyes, but then she smiled with brave sweetness. “Then, Papa, can we go home now?”

The innocence of it broke me further. I pulled her against me, her tiny frame too light, too thin, pressing her against my chest where my heartbeat thundered like a storm. She smelled faintly of Riley–wildflowers and pine, though dulled by hunger and neglect.

Wolf instincts burned. I would never let her go again.

Her little hand reached up,/brushing my hair, her voice so soft it nearly undid me. “Papa, don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll be sad too.”

The wisdom in her tone–far too old for her years–seared me. My arms tightened. “I won’t cry, pup. I promise. I’ll take you home now.”

I moved to lift her, but she squirmed. “Papa, I didn’t say goodbye to Uncle Duke

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yet.”

I paused, then carried her into Duke’s house.

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The scent hit first–ale, bitter and sharp. But the place was not chaos. The hearth swept, floors clean. My wolf bristled with pride and pain at once. She had done this. My two–year–old pup, left alone among grief and drink, had kept the den in order. She had carried burdens no child should bear.

I found Duke slumped on the floor, hollow–eyed, as though his soul had been torn free the night Carmen was sentenced. My chest ached with old loyalty. I knelt, speaking low. “Duke. We all bear scars, but time drives us forward whether we wish it or not. I give you three days. In three days, you will come back to Stormridge Hall and resume your post. Busy hands forget pain.”

He lifted his head. His gaze was an empty well, lifeless. His lips parted, then shut again. Silence swallowed him.

I shifted my daughter in my arms, but she pushed free, toddling to Duke. She reached up with her tiny hand and pressed it against his face. “Uncle Duke, you must get better, okay? My papa came to take me home.”

Duke’s vacant eyes blinked, confusion flooding in as he glanced from her to me. “Papa?” he croaked, like the word itself didn’t belong in his mouth.

I stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, steady but unyielding. “It’s a long story. She’s Riley’s and mine. Our blood. One day, I’ll tell you everything.”

He sagged further, but I could feel his pulse quicken–beneath my touch. He understood enough.

I gathered my pup into my arms again and carried her out. The night air felt sharper, cleaner, as though the world itself acknowledged the truth at last.

The ride back to Stormridge Manor was swift, the car slicing through the darkness. My daughter nestled in my lap, wide–eyed, marveling at the leather seats, the flick of lights, every new sound. Her wonder filled the silence, and for the first time in years, the heaviness inside me lightened.

Home.

The gates of the Duskgrave estate opened, iron bars groaning as though they, too,

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recognized her blood. The moment we crossed the threshold, Matriarch Duskgrave and Mrs. Beck hurried forward.

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I set my daughter down, steadying her on the gravel. “She is mine. Riley’s and mine,” I told them, my voice low but resonant with the bond of truth.

For a moment, they froze. Their eyes widened, disbelief painted across their faces. My grandmother’s hand flew to her lips, her body trembling, and Mrs. Beck swayed, as though her legs had forgotten how to hold her.

Caelum filled the silence, recounting every step. of the story, each scar Riley had carried, every shadow that had touched this pup. Their faces fell deeper and deeper into grief.

The Matriarch bent, her aged knees shaking, until she was level with the child. Her eyes brimmed, tears falling freely as she reached trembling arms forward. “Little one… come to Great–Grandmother.”

My pup hesitated, gaze flicking to me for reassurance. I nodded, my wolf urging her forward.

She padded into my grandmother’s arms. The Matriarch gathered her as if she were spun glass, clutching her to her chest with a ferocity only blood can summon. Her voice shook with anguish. “Sin upon sin. What suffering Riley endured, and now our little one too… how much cruelty must the Fates demand?”

Tears carved paths down her wrinkled cheeks.

But my daughter, my fierce pup, reached up again, wiping those tears with her tiny fingers. “Don’t cry, Great–Grandmother. I’ll be good. I can wash clothes, cook, clean. You won’t have to worry.”

Her words cut through me. Too much burden. Too much understanding for one so

young.

The Matriarch broke, sobbing into the child’s hair. “You’re already the bravest, most precious treasure we could ever ask for.”

And I stood there, fists clenched at my sides, wolf howling within, swearing silently that never again would she have to carry weight alone. She was mine. She was Riley’s. And she would know what it meant to be loved by the Stormridge Alpha line.

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Chapter 318