Chapter 45
Apr 17, 2025
Felicia stepped out of the closet, her breath still uneven as she tried to calm down. The moment she did, Danny and Max ran straight into Damien’s arms, gripping his shirt tightly as if afraid he would disappear.
Damien held them close, his strong arms wrapping around them protectively. His green eyes softened slightly as he ran his hands through their hair, whispering words of reassurance.
Felicia stood beside them, her heart still racing. The sounds of the attack had died down, but the tension still lingered in the air like smoke after a fire.
She looked up at Damien. “How did you know we were under attack?”
Damien sighed, keeping one arm around the boys as he met her gaze. “Lucien notified me.”
Felicia frowned, confused. “Lucien called you?”
Damien shook his head. “Not exactly. He sent a signal through the pack channels. A distress call. When I got it, I knew something was wrong, so I came as fast as I could.”
Felicia exhaled, rubbing her temples. “How bad is it?”
Damien’s face darkened, his hold on the boys tightening slightly. “Bad. It looks like Danielle—or whatever she is—struck again.”
Felicia’s stomach twisted. “How many?”
Damien’s expression was grim. “Too many.”
Felicia closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. This wasn’t just some random rogue attack. This was a message.
A warning.
Danielle—or rather, Daphne—wasn’t just playing games anymore.
She was making her move.
“Where’s Lucien?” she asked suddenly.
Damien looked toward the staircase. “Downstairs. He’s the one who sent me to check on you and the boys.”
Felicia nodded. She needed to see Lucien.
She took Danny and Max’s hands, leading them toward the door.
“Stay close to me.”
The four of them made their way down the hallway, their steps eerily loud against the now silent packhouse.
As they descended the stairs, the sight that greeted them stopped Felicia cold.
The dining hall was a scene from a nightmare.
Bodies of fallen warriors littered the floor, the scent of blood thick and suffocating in the air. Broken furniture, shattered glass, and deep claw marks covered the walls and floor.
But in the center of it all, surrounded by death and destruction, was Lucien.
He was on his knees, his broad shoulders shaking, his head bowed.
Felicia’s heart clenched in fear.
He looked broken.
For a terrifying moment, she thought he was injured, dying, but when she stepped closer, she saw something in his hands.
A photograph.
Felicia stopped breathing.
The image in his trembling hands made her blood freeze.
A woman shackled in a dungeon, her eyes hollow but very much alive.
Georgina.
And beside her—
Two young girls.
Twin girls.
Felicia’s heart stopped.
Georgina was alive.
And she had daughters.
Lucien’s daughters.
