RAVEN POV:
Okay, so remember when I said unconsciousness was actually a blessing? Yeah… scratch that. Being unconscious is only good if you stay in the same arms you passed out in. But guess what? Yours truly apparently isn't that lucky, because my unconscious self was transferred like a hot potato from one pair of arms to another. And not just any arms. No, I woke up swinging—literally—head down, dangling like a sack of rice, and the very first thought in my groggy brain was: what in the seven hells is happening now?
My head bobbed side to side like a pendulum, my body bouncing against a shoulder that was definitely not Scott's. Scott was gentle, kind. Whoever was carrying me now? Not so much. More like a butcher carrying his latest prey.
And then it hit me. No, not the ground yet—though trust me, that came later—but the scent. That scent. That maddening mix of pine smoke and something sharp, metallic, like storm air before lightning cracks the sky. Oh, I knew it. I knew it the second it invaded my lungs.
Lucian.
The bane of my miserable existence. My number-one tormentor. My devil in dark hair and ice-cold glares. And here he was, hauling me around like he'd just picked up trash from the roadside.
My survival instincts kicked in—about five minutes too late, but hey, better late than never. First thing I did? I screamed. Or at least, I tried to scream. It came out more like a half-drowned cat's yowl, but still, effort points.
The response? Immediate. Brutal. I got dumped. Yup, full-on body-slammed onto the floor, butt-first, and I swear I felt my spine vibrate all the way to my skull. "Ow!" I gasped, clutching my poor, abused tailbone.
Before I could even process where I was, icy water blasted me from above. My shriek this time was real, throat-shredding real. One second I was sore, the next I was drenched like someone had just summoned the entire Arctic Ocean over my head.
"Seems little miss Blackwood has finally awakened," Lucian's voice sneered from somewhere in front of me.
Oh, I knew that voice too well. Smooth as velvet, sharp as knives, and designed solely to piss me off.
Blinking water from my lashes, I squinted through the icy downpour. My hands flailed uselessly in front of me, and yeah, there he was—Lucian, standing with one hand on the shower lever, looking like the smug prince of darkness himself. Perfectly dry, perfectly composed, perfectly infuriating.
Meanwhile, I looked like a drowned chicken.
"Are you insane?!" I screeched, teeth chattering, arms wrapping around myself as if that would stop the glacier-water from stabbing through my skin.
He tilted his head, that dark hair falling just enough to shadow one of his piercing eyes. His lips curled—not in a smile, oh no, because Lucian didn't smile. He smirked, like some villain who already knew the ending of the story and was just humoring me until I figured it out.
"Insane? No," he drawled. "Cautious? Absolutely. For all I knew, you were faking it. Playing weak again. It's hard to tell with you."
I gasped, my hands slapping the wet floor for emphasis. "Excuse me? Do I look like I was faking when I passed out in the middle of the damn field?!"
He raised an eyebrow, and I swear it was the most irritating thing I had ever seen. "You look like someone who can't even run five laps without collapsing. Which makes me wonder…" His eyes raked over me—slow, deliberate, assessing. "What kind of a wolf are you really, Blackwood?"
My heart stuttered. Not because of his stupidly intense gaze—don't get me wrong, it was intense, the kind of look that could pin you in place like a butterfly in a collector's frame—but because of his words. What kind of wolf are you?
Panic fluttered in my chest. Could he tell? Did he know? No. Impossible. The blockers were supposed to work. They had to work.
"You're insane," I muttered, louder this time, forcing my voice not to shake. "Completely delusional. I'm not hiding anything except maybe the fact that I hate your guts."
The corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. Definitely not. But something dangerous. "Hate, hmm? Good. Hate me all you want, Blackwood. Just remember…" He leaned in, close enough that his shadow fell over me, close enough that his scent swarmed my senses until I wanted to choke. "…hate and desire are two sides of the same coin."
My breath caught. My brain short-circuited. Did he seriously just say that?
"Y-you—" I stammered, pointing a trembling finger at him. "You are the most arrogant, twisted—"
"Careful," he cut in, his voice a low purr. "Your insults are getting repetitive."
I wanted to slap him. Actually, no, I wanted to launch him into orbit with a rocket. But the problem was, my body wasn't cooperating. My muscles were still mush from the laps, and now freezing water had numbed me from the toes up.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked finally, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to sound strong.
He straightened, his expression chilling over like ice hardening on a lake. "Because you annoy me, Blackwood. Because you exist where you shouldn't. And because…" He paused, his gaze locking with mine, unflinching. "…I don't like garbage."
My throat went dry. He couldn't know. He couldn't. That's what Omegas are thought by an Alpha-garbage.
I forced out a laugh, brittle as glass. "What, you think I'm plotting to overthrow you? I can't even run laps, remember?"
"Exactly." His tone was sharp as a blade. "An alpha who can't run, can't fight, and collapses at the slightest effort? Something doesn't add up."
I froze. My lips parted, but no words came out.
For a moment, silence stretched between us, the icy water still pouring down, the steam of my breath mingling with the cold. His eyes narrowed, searching my face, like he was trying to peel back my skin and see the secrets beneath.
And then, abruptly, he turned the tap off. The water stopped, leaving me shivering in drenched clothes, my hair plastered to my face.
Lucian crouched down so we were eye-level. My heart rammed against my ribs, traitorous and loud.
"I don't know what game you're playing," he said softly, too softly, almost intimate if not for the steel beneath his words. "But I'll find out. And when I do, Blackwood, no excuse, no lie will save you."
And with that, he stood, leaving me shivering on the cold tile, my head spinning from more than just the water.
Because for one terrifying second, I thought he already knew.