A Broken Alpha Heiress' Revenge novel Chapter 344

Chapter 344

Third Person’s POV

The gates of the Western Pack loomed high and iron-bound, flanked by guards whose hackles bristled with confusion and unease. Lucien strode forward, Aria limp in his arms, her pale face turned into the curve of his chest. His wolf prowled beneath his skin, ready to burst free, the urge to protect her thrumming through every vein.

The moment he reached the threshold, a deep growl rolled across the courtyard like thunder. Aedric had arrived.

The Alpha of the West descended the stone steps, his aura rippling out like a stormfront. His golden eyes burned with barely checked rage, his wolf snapping to the surface. Behind him trailed his warriors, the scent of blood and anger heavy in the air.

Lucien stiffened, shifting Aria carefully into Carmen’s waiting arms. Carmen cradled her sister close, whispering her name, while Maeryn pressed forward with trembling hands already glowing faintly with the blue shimmer of her healer’s magic.

Lucien’s body fell into a battle stance, his claws pricking at his fingertips. If Aedric meant to stop him-if anyone meant to keep him from taking Aria back to the East-he would fight until his last breath.

“You.” Aedric’s voice cracked like a whip across the courtyard. His gaze swept over the scene: Aria unconscious, Carmen’s frantic tears, the healers pressing forward, and Lucien crouched in front of them like a feral beast. His eyes narrowed. “What in the Goddess’s name has been done?”

“Ask your own,” Lucien snarled, his wolf pushing to the surface. “Your pack’s zealots dared to lay hands on her. They tried to tear her from me.” His growl deepened, the gravel of it vibrating through the stone beneath them. “For that, I’ll see blood spill.”

For a heartbeat, tension snapped like a live wire. The Western guards shifted uneasily, their wolves caught between their Alpha’s authority and the wrongness of what had been done.

But instead of meeting violence with violence, Aedric turned. His voice cut cold and final: “Bring them out.”

From the shadows, several wolves were dragged forward-members of the radical faction, their wrists bound, muzzles torn from scuffles, their eyes darting with fear.

Lucien’s lip curled. He recognized some of them.

“They will answer for this disgrace,” Aedric growled, his wolf aura flaring until every guard in the courtyard bowed their head. The radicals whimpered, trying to resist, but Aedric’s claws struck like. lightning. One slash across the ringleader’s throat sent crimson spilling onto the stones. The others cried out, but no mercy was shown. Blow after blow fell, swift and merciless.

Carmen flinched, holding Aria tighter, while Maeryn’s lips tightened, though she said nothing. Justice in the wolf world was never gentle.

Finally, Aedric wiped the blood from his claws and turned back to Lucien. His eyes, though still sharp, had softened with remorse. “What they did was treason,” he said, his voice echoing low. “To you. To her. To the Goddess. Their blood will not erase the insult, but know this, Lucien-this was not my will.”

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Lucien’s chest heaved, his wolf still restless, but the sincerity in Aedric’s tone tugged at the thin thread of restraint he clung to.

“She nearly died,” Lucien spat. His voice cracked under the weight of the words. “If she hadn’t—” His throat closed. He couldn’t finish the thought. He wouldn’t.

Aedric inclined his head. “Then I owe her more than an apology. I owe her a debt. And you-both of you

-owe no chains here. Take her. Protect her. No wolf will bar your way.”

For a moment, silence stretched, the night wind carrying the scent of blood and smoke. Then Lucien nodded once, sharp and curt, and turned back to Carmen and Maeryn.

“Keep her safe until I take her,” he said, his voice low but iron-clad. “We leave now.”

No wolf dared step forward. Aedric himself raised a hand, commanding his warriors to clear the path. Lucien gathered Aria back into his arms, her weight a fragile anchor against the storm inside him. With Carmen and Maeryn trailing behind, they left the Western Pack’s courtyard, the echoes of justice and bloodshed still ringing in their ears.

The journey back blurred in Lucien’s memory. He did not sleep. He did not rest. He barely breathed, except to check that Aria still did. Every flicker of her pulse against his chest was a reminder of how close he’d come to losing her.

When they finally reached the Eastern stronghold, he carried her to the safest chamber he knew-the private quarters shielded by both steel and spell. He laid her on the bed as though she were made of spun glass, brushing a strand of hair from her brow. Her skin was pale, lips parted in shallow breaths, her lashes trembling but never opening.

He sank into the chair at her side and refused to move.

Day bled into night. Night bled into day. Lucien never left her. His wolf paced, restless, pressing its snout against her limp hand, whining low in her dreams.

“Aria,” he whispered into the quiet hours, his voice breaking with memory. “Do you remember? The first hunt under the silver moon? The way you laughed when you beat me to the kill?” 1

Sometimes he spoke of battles, of the nights they had sparred beneath the pines, of the scars they’d shared, the promises they had once made beneath a sky littered with stars. Other times, his voice turned raw, whispering things he had never admitted even to himself-fears, regrets, the truth of how she had changed him. 2

Still she did not wake.

Carmen often came, slipping in with food Lucien barely touched. Maeryn worked spells that shimmered over her body, muttering incantations to knit together the jagged edges of her memory. The air in the chamber smelled of herbs, blood, and wolf tears.

“She’s fighting,” Maeryn said one night, exhaustion etched into the lines around her eyes. “Her spirit isn’t gone. But her mind…” She hesitated, her fingers trembling above Aria’s temple. “Her mind has been fractured. The radicals tore at her memories. It will take time to piece them together.”

Lucien gripped Aria’s hand tighter. “Then I’ll give her time. As much as it takes.”

He pressed his forehead to her knuckles, closing his eyes. His wolf pressed closer, wrapping itself around

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hers in the dreamworld, trying to guide her back.

For the first time in many years, Lucien prayed-to the Goddess, to the moon, to anything that might

listen.

“Bring her back to me.”

And though the room stayed silent, though Aria’s eyes did not yet open, a faint shimmer ran across her skin-like moonlight brushing her cheek.

Lucien’s heart clenched.

“She hears me,” he whispered.

And with renewed resolve, he vowed he would never stop calling her back. Not until Aria opened her eyes and remembered who she was. Not until she remembered who he was.