SERAPHINA’S POV
"Hi, Sera."
His voice was deep and smooth, mildly amused—maybe because I was staring at him with my eyes popping out of my head.
When I didn’t move or say anything, he chuckled, the sound rumbling in the space between us. "I see I must have caught you at a bad time. I’ll just—"
He turned to walk away, and I gasped out of my frozen state. "Wait!"
He turned back, an eyebrow raised.
"It’s... you."
His lips twitched. "Lucian Reed." He stretched out the tattooed arm to me expectantly.
On autopilot, I reached out with my uninjured arm and took his hand. It was large and warm and swallowed mine. "Seraphina Bl—" No, not Blackthorne—not anymore. Not really Lockwood, either. Besides, he already knew my name.
"Uhm... come in, please." I stepped out of the doorway and gestured into the house.
"Thank you," Lucian said as he crossed the threshold. He towered over me, almost as tall as Kieran, and I took an instinctive step back.
"Th-this way."
I led him to the living room and gestured for him to sit in the armchair.
He sat in it as if it were a throne, and something told me he could drop into a pile of mud and make it look regal.
His head swiveled, taking in the living room—the flowery wallpaper, the mismatched couches, and oddly matching side tables.
"Your home is lovely."
I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, but I waved the comment away. "It came like this. I just moved in."
As soon as I said the words, I dropped my gaze. Why was I telling this stranger my business?
"How are your injuries?" he asked, nodding toward my bandages.
My fingers brushed over the surface. "They’ll heal. I—" I swallowed. "Thank you. I should have said that the moment I opened the door—thank you so much for saving my life."
Lucian grinned, a full-toothed smile that made him look less intimidating.
"You’re very welcome, Sera."
I worried my lower lip between my teeth. "Can I ask, though... why did you do it? Everyone was protecting what mattered to them; we don’t even know each other."
He shook his head, his smile fading into something softer. "You may not know me, but I know you."
He slipped a hand into his pocket and then stretched it to me. My eyes scanned the contents.
"’Out of the Shadows,’" I read out loud, looking up at Lucian in question.
"I’m the Alpha of the Shadowveil Pack in the south," he said.
"And the president of—" I glanced at the card again. "’Out of the Shadows.’"
Lucian nodded. "It’s a relief organization dedicated to helping wolfless and vulnerable wolves—Omegas, outcasts, rogues." He shrugged. "If a wolf needs help, OTS is there."
Well, that explained a lot.
"That’s..." Noble, impressive, awe-inspiring. For someone who had spent her whole life being ridiculed and cast aside for being wolfless, it was a dizzying relief to find out that there was someone out there—a whole ass organization—who cared that much for my kind.
"You said you knew me," I said. "How?"
Lucian leaned in, bracing his elbows on his thighs. "I did some business with your late father—my condolences, by the way."
I shrugged, ignoring the twinge of pain in my chest. It felt strange and uncomfortable receiving condolences for a man who’d hated me up until he drew his last breath.
"But there was another reason why I attended his funeral," Lucian continued.
I cocked my head, frowning as he said, "I heard Edward Lockwood’s eldest daughter was wolfless."
I could almost hear my mental walls slamming up, iron gates locking.
"What is this?" I hissed. "Were you targeting me? Did you save me so you could—"
"I saved you because you were in danger," Lucian said simply. "And I’m here to check up on your well-being."
"Are you checking up on all the other wolves you saved?"
"No," he answered honestly.
"So... why me?"
"Because I want you to join my organization."
I blinked. "What?"
He nodded. "You’re an Alpha’s daughter, an Alpha’s sister, and an Alpha’s wife—"
"Ex-wife," I corrected immediately.
Something twinkled in Lucian’s eyes as he nodded. "Forgive me—ex-wife. Either way, I believe your identity and experiences could inspire many werewolves facing similar... disadvantages." It was a kinder word than the ones I’d heard my whole life: disability, problem, impairment.
I snorted. "I’m not role-model material."
Lucian raised a brow. "I’d say you’ve built quite a life for yourself and your son, even in light of your family’s antagonism and recent divorce."
"I—" It was slightly unsettling how much this stranger knew about me.
"The point is, Sera," he said, "I find you inspiring, and I know many others would, too. OTS is more than a relief organization. We also offer the... tools every wolf needs. We can train you, make you strong in your own right, so you never have to rely on someone else to save you."


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