The storm inside Lucian was not quiet. It was raging—a wildfire, a tempest, a force that could tear apart the very foundation of Magnus' twisted empire.
He had fought battles before. He had faced death on countless occasions. But nothing—nothing—had ever ignited this level of fury inside him.
Magnus had taken Eva.
And that meant Magnus had just signed his own death warrant.
Lucian stood in the war room, breathing heavily, his hands braced against the table. The room was filled with warriors, but no one dared to speak. The air was too thick, too charged with raw fury.
Tobias shifted uncomfortably. "Lucian, we need a plan—"
Lucian slammed his fist against the table so hard that the wood cracked beneath his strength.
"A plan?" His voice was lethal, like the blade of a sharpened sword. His eyes—usually cool and calculating—were ablaze with something darker, something merciless.
"We don't need a plan," Lucian growled. "We need war."
Tobias blinked. "Alright. So we go in loud—"
"We go in mercilessly," Lucian interrupted. He straightened, his entire form radiating dominance. The kind of authority that left no room for hesitation.
His men had followed him into battle before, but they had never seen this side of him. This wasn't the knight they knew.
This was a man ready to tear apart the world for the woman he loved.
And he didn't care who got in his way.
Gareth stepped forward cautiously. "Lucian—"
"Do you understand what Magnus has done?" Lucian's voice was sharp, like the edge of a blade. "He didn't just capture any noblewoman. He took Eva."
His breathing was ragged, his body taut like a bowstring about to snap.
"That bastard thinks he can take what's mine and live to tell the tale?"
Silence.
Not a single person in the room dared to correct him. Not a single person dared to remind him that Eva wasn't his.
Because in that moment, Lucian Valemont wasn't speaking as a knight. He wasn't speaking as a warrior.
He was speaking as a man whose woman had been taken.
And a man like Lucian?
He would burn a kingdom to the ground before he let that stand.
Tobias exhaled slowly. "Alright then. So we ride tonight?"
Lucian's eyes darkened.
"No," he said.
"We ride now."
---
The Storm Unleashed
The hooves of their warhorses thundered across the ground, cutting through the night like an unstoppable force.
Lucian led the charge, his cape billowing behind him, his eyes locked on the distant castle. The world blurred around him, his only thought Eva.
Her wild spirit. Her sharp tongue. Her stubborn defiance.
All of it his.
And Magnus dared to touch her?
Lucian's grip on his reins tightened until his knuckles turned white.
Tonight, Magnus would pay.
They rode straight to the castle gates.
"Lower the portcullis!" a guard shouted.
Too late.
Lucian didn't slow. He kicked his horse forward, drawing his sword in one swift motion.
The first guard didn't even have time to react before Lucian cut him down.
Screams filled the air.
The resistance fighters stormed forward behind him, a wave of vengeance crashing into the castle walls.
Lucian didn't stop. He didn't pause. His mind was consumed by only one thought—
Eva.
He would find her.
And God help anyone who stood in his way.