Three Months Later – April
The impact of knuckles against leather echoed through the private gym like gunshots.
Lucien moved around the heavy bag in a fluid circle, his combinations flowing seamlessly from one strike to the next. Jab, cross, hook, uppercut. His instructor, Marcus Chen, a former Navy SEAL and decorated Muay Thai champion, watched with critical eyes from across the room, arms crossed over his chest.
"Your form is perfect," Marcus said, his voice carrying easily over the rhythmic thuds. "Too perfect, actually. You're holding back."
Lucien stopped mid-combination and turned to face his instructor. Sweat dripped down his bare torso, soaking into the waistband of his training shorts. Three months of intensive training had honed his already athletic physique into something more refined, lean muscle built for explosive speed and power.
"I'm hitting as hard as I can," Lucien said, which was technically true. As hard as he could while still appearing human, anyway.
Marcus walked over to the heavy bag and pressed his palm against it. "This bag is designed to take punishment from professional fighters. After three months of training, you should be making it swing more. You're fast—faster than anyone I've ever trained—but you're pulling your punches. Why?"
Because if I didn't, I'd send the bag through the wall, Lucien thought.
"Maybe I'm just not as strong as you think I should be," he said instead.
Marcus's eyes narrowed. He'd been around enough operators to know when someone was hiding something. But to his credit, he didn't push. That was one of the reasons Lucien liked him; the man understood boundaries.
"Let's work on grappling," Marcus said, changing the subject. "Strength isn't everything. Technique can overcome a significant power disadvantage."
They spent the next hour on the mats, with Marcus demonstrating various submission holds and escapes. Lucien absorbed everything like a sponge, his enhanced reflexes and spatial awareness making it easy to replicate techniques after a single viewing. It was almost unfair.
"You're a natural," Marcus said as they finished the session. "I've never seen anyone pick things up this quickly. At this rate, you'll be ready for actual sparring in another month or two."
Lucien nodded, toweling off his face. "Thanks, Marcus. Same time tomorrow?"
"Unless you want to add an evening session. I could work with you on weapons training if you're interested."
"Let's stick with hand-to-hand for now," Lucien replied. He didn't want to give away just how coordinated he'd become. The supernatural reflexes were hard enough to hide without adding firearms to the mix.
After Marcus left, Lucien showered and changed, then made his way to the study where Sarah Rose was waiting for their daily business review. The thirty-two-year-old executive had proven to be everything Jake promised and more. Sharp, efficient, and absolutely ruthless when it came to protecting the company's interests.
She looked up from her laptop as he entered, her dark hair pulled back in a professional bun, designer glasses perched on her nose. "Good session?"
"Productive," Lucien said, settling into the chair across from her desk. "What's on the agenda today?"
"Three things," Sarah said, pulling up a document on her screen. "First, the quarterly reports. Revenue is up 7% across all divisions, putting us ahead of projections. The tech investments your parents made are paying off nicely."
"Good. What's second?"
"The Beacon Hills property. Jake's found a suitable location—sixty acres on the outskirts of town, mostly wooded, with good road access. The current owner is motivated to sell. I've reviewed the terms, and I think we can close within the month."
Lucien leaned forward. "Show me."
Sarah turned the laptop around, displaying satellite imagery of the property. Dense forest surrounded a cleared area in the center, with a small access road leading to the main highway. It was perfect, isolated enough for privacy, but not so remote that it would raise questions.
"How much?" Lucien asked.
"They're asking two-point-three million. I think we can get it for one-point-nine."
"Offer them two million, no haggling. I want this closed fast."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "You're leaving money on the table."
"I'm buying goodwill," Lucien corrected. "Small town like Beacon Hills, word gets around when some rich kid from LA starts throwing his weight around. Better to be seen as fair and generous than as a shark."
A small smile crossed Sarah's face. "Smart. I'll handle it. Third item, Jake wants to discuss the security personnel he's been recruiting. He has six candidates lined up and wants your approval before proceeding."
"Tell him I'll meet with him after we're done here. Anything else?"
"Just one thing." Sarah's expression turned more serious. "Lucien, I know you're fourteen, and you have more money than most people see in a lifetime. But you're handling this business better than executives twice your age. Where did you learn this?"
Lucien met her gaze calmly. "My parents weren't just wealthy, Sarah. They were smart. They made sure I understood how the business worked from a young age. They wanted me to be ready to take over someday." He paused, letting genuine emotion color his voice. "They just didn't expect it to happen so soon."
Sarah's expression softened. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me."
"It's fine. You're right to question it. But I promise you, I know what I'm doing. And when I don't, I'm smart enough to listen to people who do. That's why I hired you."
"Fair enough." Sarah closed her laptop. "I'll get started on the Beacon Hills purchase and schedule the security meeting for this afternoon."
As Sarah left, Lucien allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Three months in, and he'd successfully positioned himself as a competent, if unusually mature, teenage CEO. The business was stable, his cover was solid, and the Beacon Hills plan was coming together.
Now he just needed his pack.
Two Weeks Later – New York City
The rain came down in sheets, turning the New York streets into rivers of dirty water and neon reflections. Lucien sat in the back of a town car, watching the city pass by through rain-streaked windows. He'd flown in that morning for a board meeting, one of the few times he had to physically appear rather than videoconference.
The meeting had been tedious but necessary. Some of the older board members still needed convincing that a teenage CEO wouldn't run the company into the ground. Sarah had coached him through it perfectly, and by the end, even the skeptics had grudgingly admitted that the Vale's heir knew his business.
"Where to, Mr. Vale?" the driver asked. Lucien had legally changed his last name a month ago—Vale felt right in a way Michaels never had. A fresh start for a fresh life.
"Just drive for a bit," Lucien said. "I need to clear my head."
The driver nodded and continued through the rain-soaked streets. Lucien wasn't ready to head back to the hotel yet. Something felt... off. Not dangerous, exactly, but like there was something he was supposed to see. Supposed to find.
He'd learned to trust his instincts since awakening as a primordial wolf. They were rarely wrong.
"Actually, head toward Queens," Lucien said suddenly.
The driver changed course without question; one of the benefits of paying well was that people didn't ask unnecessary questions. They drove for another twenty minutes, weaving through traffic, until Lucien felt that pull again.
"Stop here."
The car pulled over at a bus stop in a neighborhood that had clearly seen better days. Through the rain, Lucien could make out two figures huddled under the insufficient shelter of the bus stop overhang. Teenagers, he realized. A boy and a girl, surrounded by hastily packed duffel bags and backpacks.
Runaways.
Something in his chest tightened. He opened the car door before he could overthink it.
"Sir?" the driver called after him.
"Wait here. I'll just be a minute."
Lucien stepped out into the rain, immediately getting soaked despite his expensive suit. He walked toward the bus stop, and as he got closer, he could see the two teenagers more clearly.
The boy was probably his age, maybe fifteen, with shaggy brown hair plastered to his forehead by the rain. He had a protective arm around the girl, his sister, if the family resemblance was anything to go by. She looked younger, maybe thirteen, with the same brown hair and hazel eyes. Both of them were shivering, their clothes clearly inadequate for the weather.
They noticed him approaching and immediately tensed. The boy shifted, putting himself more fully between Lucien and his sister.
"Easy," Lucien said, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just... You two look like you could use some help."
"We're fine," the boy said, his voice hard despite the fear in his eyes. "We don't need anything."
"You're soaking wet, probably haven't eaten in hours, and you're sitting at a bus stop at nine PM with all your worldly possessions. Forgive me if I don't believe you."
The girl spoke up, her voice small and tired. "Sam, maybe we should—"
"No, Lucy. We don't know him."
Sam and Lucy. Good to have names.
Lucien crouched down to be at their eye level, careful to maintain distance so he wouldn't seem threatening. "Look, I get it. I'm a stranger, and you've probably been told not to trust strangers. Smart. But I'm also standing here in a thousand-dollar suit getting ruined by the rain because something told me you two needed help. So how about this, let me buy you some food, get you somewhere warm and dry, and then you can decide what you want to do. No strings attached. If you want to leave after, you leave. Deal?"
Sam and Lucy exchanged a look, one of those silent sibling communications that said more than words could. Finally, Sam's shoulders slumped.
"Just food?" he asked suspiciously.
"And somewhere to dry off. You have my word."
Another moment of silent deliberation, then Sam nodded. "Okay. But any weird shit and we're gone."
"Fair enough."
Lucien helped them gather their bags—they didn't have much, which told its own sad story—and led them to the waiting town car. The driver's eyes widened slightly when he saw the two bedraggled teenagers, but he didn't comment as Lucien helped them into the back seat.
"Take us to the hotel," Lucien instructed. "And call ahead, I want food sent up to my suite. Pizza, burgers, whatever they have that two hungry teenagers would want. A lot of it."
"Yes, sir."
The drive back was quiet. Sam kept his arm around Lucy, both of them eyeing Lucien warily. He didn't try to make conversation; they needed time to process, to realize he wasn't a threat.
When they arrived at the hotel, a five-star establishment that probably cost more per night than these kids had seen in months, the doorman rushed to open the car door. If he was surprised by Lucien's two wet, homeless companions, he hid it well.
The suite was on the top floor, a sprawling three-bedroom affair with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of the city lights. Sam and Lucy stood in the entryway, dripping on the expensive carpet, looking completely overwhelmed.
"Bathrooms are through there," Lucien said, pointing to the two guest bedrooms. "There should be robes and towels. Get dried off, and the food should be here soon."
They didn't move.
"It's okay," Lucien said gently. "You're safe here. I promise."
Lucy was the first to move, slowly walking toward one of the bedrooms. Sam hesitated a moment longer, then followed her, though he kept glancing back at Lucien as if expecting him to suddenly reveal himself as some kind of predator.
While they were gone, Lucien changed into dry clothes and ordered additional items, clothing in various sizes, toiletries, everything two kids on the run might need. The hotel staff were professionals; if they found the requests odd, they didn't show it.
The food arrived just as Sam and Lucy emerged from the bathrooms, both wearing the hotel's plush white robes, their wet clothes presumably hung up to dry. They looked younger, like this, more vulnerable. Lucy's hair was still damp, hanging in dark waves around her face. Sam had scrubbed his face clean, revealing a spattering of freckles across his nose.
"Hungry?" Lucien asked.
The way they attacked the food answered that question. He watched them eat, noting how Lucy would glance at Sam before taking each bite, how Sam would push the better pieces toward his sister. Protective. Loyal. Exactly the kind of people he needed.
When they'd finally slowed down, bellies full for probably the first time in days, Lucien leaned back in his chair.
"So," he said. "Want to tell me why two kids are running around New York in the rain with everything they own?"
Sam's jaw clenched. "That's our business."
"It is. But I just spent a few hundred dollars on you, so humor me."
"We ran away," Lucy said quietly, ignoring Sam's warning look. "From our dad."
"Lucy—"
"It's okay, Sam." She turned to Lucien, her hazel eyes far older than thirteen should allow. "Our dad... he's not a good person. He drinks. A lot. And when he drinks, he gets mean. And a few days ago, he tried to..." She couldn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to.
A cold fury settled in Lucien's chest. He kept his expression neutral, but he could feel his eyes wanting to shift, wanting to flash silver.
"Sam stopped him," Lucy continued. "Hit him with a lamp. We grabbed what we could and ran. We've been on the streets for three days."
"Do you have anywhere to go? Family, friends?"
"Our mom died when I was six," Sam said, his voice flat. "No other family. And we can't go back. He'll kill us. Or worse."
The pieces clicked into place in Lucien's mind. Two teenagers with nowhere to go, no one to trust, nothing to lose. Loyal to each other, brave enough to run, desperate enough to accept help from a stranger.
Perfect.
"I have a proposition for you," Lucien said carefully. "But before I make it, I need you to understand that what I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. You're going to think I'm crazy. But I need you to hear me out. Can you do that?"
Sam and Lucy exchanged another one of those looks.
"We're listening," Sam said warily.
Lucien took a deep breath. This was it. The moment that would either gain him his first two betas or send two traumatized kids running back into the rain.
"I'm not entirely human," he said simply. "I'm something called a werewolf. And I can make you like me, stronger, faster, able to heal from almost anything. I can give you the power to make sure no one ever hurts you again."
Silence filled the suite.
Then Sam laughed. It was a bitter, almost hysterical sound. "Right. Werewolves. Of course. Lucy, we need to—"
"Show us," Lucy interrupted.
"What?"
"Show us," she repeated, looking at Lucien with an intensity that belied her age. "If you're really a werewolf, prove it."
Lucien met her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. He stood up and walked to the center of the room, where they could both see him clearly. Then he let the wolf rise.
His eyes flashed brilliant silver, so bright they cast shadows on the walls. He raised his hands, and his nails elongated into razor-sharp claws that gleamed in the lamplight. He could feel his fangs extending, his features sharpening, becoming more predatory.
Lucy gasped. Sam's hand shot out to grab his sister, pulling her back, but he couldn't look away.
Lucien held the transformation for a few seconds, letting them see, then pulled it back. His eyes faded to gray, his claws retracted, his features returned to normal. He stood there, breathing calmly, and waited.
"Holy shit," Sam whispered.
"That's... that's real," Lucy said, her voice filled with wonder rather than fear. "You're really a werewolf."
"I am. And as I said, I can make you like me. But you need to understand what that means. There are downsides. Full moons are difficult; you'll feel the pull to transform, to hunt. You'll need to learn control. There are things that can hurt you, wolfsbane, certain types of ash. And there are people who hunt our kind. It's not all superpowers and invincibility."
"But we'd be stronger," Sam said slowly. "Fast enough to fight back. Able to heal."
"Yes."
"And you'd... what? Turn us and then send us on our way?"
"No." Lucien sat back down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "If I do this, you become part of my pack. That means you're under my protection, and I'm responsible for you. It means I'll make sure you have a home, food, education, and everything you need. But it also means you answer to me, you trust me, and you don't betray me. Ever."
"Why would you do this?" Lucy asked. "You don't even know us."
"Because I'm building something," Lucien said honestly. "And I need people I can trust. People who are loyal, who understand what it means to fight for family. You two have been taking care of each other against impossible odds. That's the kind of strength I need."
Sam looked at his sister. "Lucy, this is crazy. We don't know what we'd be getting into."
"We also don't have anywhere else to go," Lucy pointed out. "And he did say there are people who hunt werewolves. At least with him, we'd have protection. Training. A real chance."
"There's another option," Lucien said. "I can set you up with money, help you disappear, and get you new identities. You don't have to accept the bite if you don't want it. I'm offering this because I think you'd be good for my pack, but I'm not going to force you into anything."
It was important they understood that. Consent mattered, even for things like this.
Sam and Lucy talked in hushed whispers for several minutes. Lucien let them, walking over to the window to give them privacy. The city sprawled out below, millions of lives intersecting and diverging in an endless dance. Somewhere down there, their father was probably sleeping off another drunk. Somewhere down there, other kids were in similar situations, desperate and afraid.
He couldn't save them all. But he could save these two.
"Okay," Sam said finally. "We'll do it. Both of us."
Lucien turned back to face them. "You're sure? Once it's done, there's no going back."
"We're sure," Lucy confirmed. "Whatever happens, it's better than going back to that house. And... and you seem like you actually care. That's more than we've had in a long time."
The trust in her voice made Lucien's chest tighten. These kids were putting their lives in his hands based on an hour of conversation and a supernatural light show. He couldn't let them down.
"Alright then," he said. "We'll do it tomorrow night. There are some things I need to prepare, and you both should rest and think about this one more time. If you change your minds, that's okay. No judgment."
"We won't change our minds," Sam said with quiet certainty.
That night, Lucien lay in his bedroom while Sam and Lucy slept in the guest rooms, planning the next steps. The bite would be the easy part. Teaching them control, helping them through their first transformations, integrating them into his life, that would be the challenge.
But he'd been given a second chance at life. The least he could do was offer the same to two kids who desperately needed one.
Tomorrow, he would gain his first betas.
Tomorrow, his pack would truly begin.