CHAPTER 72: THE DAY THE DEVIL CHOOSE HIM

Lucien sat cross-legged on the bed, a small breakfast table arranged neatly in front of him with all his favorite morning dishes.

The sunlight from the balcony washed the room in a soft glow, but none of it helped the tightness curling inside his chest.

He took a bite of a honey-glazed fig, but even its sweetness tasted dull on his tongue.

Beside him, Adrian clung like a stubborn koala, arms wrapped around Lucien’s waist while he repeated the same line for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Lucien, I’m still hot, cool, and dominant... right?"

Lucien sighed. "Adrian."

"I didn’t cry back then, it was sweat. I swear."

Adrian buried his face into Lucien’s shoulder and inhaled deeply, voice turning soft.

"Your scent is getting stronger every day. I love it."

The fig slipped from Lucien’s fingers and rolled across the tray. His heartbeat kicked hard in his chest.

"What do you mean stronger? Was it different before I came to this island, then when I arrived, and now?"

His voice wavered. He couldn’t hide the anxiety threading under it.

Ever since Edmund mentioned his heat approaching, the thought refused to leave him alone. The memory of losing control terrified him more than anything.

"Huh? Well, yeah." Adrian nodded casually.

"At first you smelled like nothing. Then it was intense when you arrived here because of the Lune Kiss. But now..."

He paused, searching for the right word. "Now it feels comforting."

"Comforting," Lucien repeated quietly. "Not intense like... an omega in heat?"

Adrian’s eyes widened, realizing what he accidentally suggested. He lifted his head, gaze trailing over Lucien’s flushed neck, amethyst eyes, and soft lips.

His body reacted instantly, and he smirked. "Are you scared it’s getting close? Relax. We’ll treat you really well."

Lucien shoved him away without hesitation. "Shut up and don’t touch me. My whole body hurts from yesterday and I want space."

"Why are you suddenly snapping at me? I’m the one who should be upset! My pride has been crushed into dust!"

Lucien glared and stabbed his fork into food with unnecessary force. "Take a hint, Adrian. Seriously. Just shut up."

The room fell quiet except for the clink of silverware. The single word still echoed in his mind.

Heat.

His stomach twisted. His first heat was a blur of fear and pain, a memory he could barely grasp but wished he could forget entirely.

Even thinking about it made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

And now it might come again.

***

Lucien was ten at the time, far too young for a first heat. Children were not supposed to experience it until after their second gender was confirmed at fifteen.

Maybe it was because the house overflowed with powerful alphas, or maybe fate simply enjoyed cruelty.

Whatever the reason, his heat arrived early and turned the entire manor into chaos.

He remembers hiding in one of the unused dark rooms while playing hide and seek with Mikhail.

Their age gap was five years, but Lucien always followed him around, eager to be included in his world.

The sudden fever hit like a wave. A hot flush spread through his body, and an aching burn coiled low in his stomach and spine.

His legs trembled until he collapsed into the wardrobe, unable to lift himself again. His breath came out in weak, shaking gasps.

His voice cracked as he tried to whisper.

"Ugh... what is happening to me?"

Footsteps crashed into the room, and even without seeing the door open, Lucien recognized the scent.

It was warm and sharp, the scent that always made him feel safe.

"Mikhail..."

When the wardrobe door swung open, the person standing there barely resembled the boy he knew.

Mikhail looked feral, shoulders tense and breath ragged, eyes glowing with a wild hunger that made Lucien freeze.

"Lucien... what the hell. You..." His voice broke into a growl, pain twisting his expression.

Lucien should have been terrified, but the scent pouring from Mikhail wrapped around him like silk and dragged a whimper from his throat.

His body felt strange and desperate, aching for contact. He grabbed Mikhail’s hand, fingers trembling.

"Mikhail, help me. It hurts. I feel weird. Please."

Before Mikhail could touch him, heavy footsteps thundered outside, followed by desperate shouts.

He spun around and slammed the door shut, locking it before anyone could enter.

"Do not come in here. I will kill you!"

The voices outside erupted in panic, screams mixed with fists pounding against the wood as they tried to break through.

Lucien curled into himself, shaking uncontrollably, tears running down his face from terror and the burning heat crawling under his skin.

Mikhail shoved a heavy table and drawers against the door and returned to Lucien, pulling him tight against his chest.

"It is alright. You are safe. Nobody will touch you."

He stroked Lucien’s back, trying to soothe him, though his own breathing was strained and broken.

His nails dug into his own skin, and he bit his hand hard as if fighting something violent inside himself.

The chaos outside grew louder until Cesare’s voice thundered through the hall.

"What is happening here? Move aside!"

"The omega is here. Mikhail is with him!"

"What?"

Mikhail shouted back, voice raw.

"Help us. It is Lucien!"

The shouting lasted five agonizing minutes, then gunfire exploded through the silence.

Blood pooled outside the door and seeped through the crack beneath it. Lucien stared at the dark red spreading across the floor, his breath hitched with horror.

Cesare’s voice followed in a quiet tone that cut deeper than the gunshots.

"Mikhail, open the door. Give me back my son. He will be safe with me."

Mikhail’s grip tightened feverishly around Lucien.

"He is mine."

"He isn’t, he is my son!" Cesare’s voice rose, another shot fired, and the door handle shattered.

The barricaded furniture trembled as the door was forced open.

Cesare stepped inside with his gun aimed directly at Mikhail.

"Get a hold of yourself before I shoot."

Lucien felt the crushing hold around him tighten until he could barely breathe. Panic surged, and he cried louder, clinging weakly to Mikhail’s shirt.

"Father, no. Please. I am scared."

That broke whatever control Mikhail had left. His arms fell away, and Cesare lifted Lucien into his hold.

Before leaving, Cesare spoke quietly to Mikhail. Lucien could not hear the words, but the look in Mikhail’s eyes was enough to haunt him long after.

The days that followed were hell. The manor became silent like a grave. People disappeared and new faces replaced them.

His parents’ eyes changed, like pity and disappointment etched on it. Mikhail kept his distance, gaze burning with a determination Lucien did not understand.

From that moment on, he knew something had been decided that night, long before he ever understood what it meant.

From that night, the Devil wanted him.

***

"Boss, what do we do?" one of the Crimson Diablo men shouted, panic cracking his voice.

"All of our accounts and companies are frozen. Everything is locked down."

Another slammed his fist on the table. "And Victor still has not returned. What should we do?"

Mikhail leaned back on the couch with a slow smirk. Of course that damned Leopard would not sit quietly.

This was exactly his style. Annoying, predictable, and irritatingly theatrical.

"Pussy," Mikhail muttered under his breath, standing with deliberate ease.

The room fell silent as every man watched him.

"Calm down. I will handle it." He stepped toward Richard, who stiffened automatically.

"Prepare a crew. Twenty men. Armed and ready."

Richard swallowed hard. "Y-yes, boss. But what are you planning?"

Crimson Diablo disliked unnecessary questions. The temperature in the room dropped as Mikhail’s gaze cut toward him, sharp as a blade.

"We are picking up that bastard Victor," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a predator’s grin.

His golden eyes glimmered in the dim light like molten metal.

"And we are bringing home my mate."