Chapter 386: Chapter 386: You shouldn’t be here, Luca
SOMEWHERE IN THE DEPTHS OF THE STONE PALACE...
Luca’s back rested against the cold stone wall, the roughness scraping against his skin. It would have been unbearable for a human, but he didn’t flinch. Beast men had skin hardened through years of battles and hunts; to him, it was nothing more than the faintest scratch.
He stood in the shadows, where the torchlight from the courtyard didn’t quite reach, arms folded loosely across his chest. The celebration outside rang with laughter and music—the pounding of drums, the distant crackle of fire, the shrill joy of children’s voices—but here, in this lonely hallway, it felt like another world.
He wasn’t interested in the festival. He had nothing to do with it. His reason for being here had nothing to do with roasted meat or palm wine or dances under the moonlight.
He was waiting.
Waiting for someone who also had nothing to do with the festivities tonight.
He had been standing here for what felt like forever. Time dragged slowly in the cold corridors, but he didn’t care. His heartbeat was steady, his patience carved deep like stone. Because he knew—sooner or later—the footsteps he was waiting for would come.
And then, as expected, he heard them.
Measured, firm, echoing against the stone.
Asael.
The moment their eyes met, Asael’s stride faltered. He froze mid-step, tension snapping across his features as his gaze fell on Luca leaning casually against the wall like he owned the place.
"Luca." Asael acknowledged him with a single word, curt and heavy. His tone carried no warmth.
Luca pushed himself off the wall, his feet crunching lightly against the stone floor as he moved closer. His wolf ears twitched ever so slightly, catching every little sound in the empty corridor. His lips curled in a smirk—mocking, but never reaching his eyes.
"Well, Asael, how are you doing?" Luca asked, voice smooth but dripping with unspoken meaning. "Won’t you be joining us outside? It’s the celebration of the Moon Goddess, after all."
He tilted his head, watching carefully.
Asael’s eyes narrowed, dark as storm clouds. He didn’t take the bait. His gaze swept Luca’s body language, the deliberate casualness of his stance, the tension in his shoulders. He knew better than to fall for Luca’s games.
"What are you doing here?" Asael asked flatly. No effort to sound polite. No effort to disguise the suspicion.
It was no secret. Everyone in the palace knew it—every guard whispered about it. Kian’s right hand man, Asael, and the head of the guards, Luca, hated each other. Oil and water. Claws and fangs. They never mixed.
So to find Luca here, lurking in the part of the palace Shelia had been closest to, was unsettling. Too unsettling.
"Wow," Luca said, clapping his hands together slowly, his grin widening. "You won’t even answer my question, will you?"
Asael didn’t blink. His silence was heavy.
"What do you want, Luca?" Asael finally snapped, cutting through the game, his patience thinning.
His claws slid out from his fingers with a faint metallic scrape, gleaming faintly in the torchlight. A silent warning—he was ready to transform at any moment if needed.
Luca’s grin faltered. His eyes darkened, all traces of playfulness wiped away in an instant. His voice dropped low, cold as the stone walls around them.
"Where is Shelia?"
He took a step closer, his presence pressing down like a weight. His gray-blue eyes glowed unnaturally in the dark, the wolf in him stirring with agitation.
Asael didn’t budge. "How would I know?" His reply was just as cold, clipped, and final.
"How wouldn’t you?" Luca’s voice cracked with restrained fury. "You always watched over her when she was in the palace. And now—now that she’s suddenly disappeared, no one has mentioned her, no one has talked about her?!"
His voice rose with each word, louder and sharper, echoing off the stone.
Every syllable was laced with weeks of bottled frustration, weeks of unanswered questions that ate him alive in the silence of his own thoughts.
He had spent night after night, alone, driving himself crazy, trying to piece it together. Trying to figure out where Shelia had gone.
At first, he hadn’t thought much of it. The first day or two without seeing her, he’d brushed it off. Shelia was unpredictable, after all. But then the days stretched into weeks. And nothing. No sightings. No whispers.
If something had really happened to her, shouldn’t the entire village have known? Shouldn’t the palace have been alerted? Shouldn’t the Moon Goddess herself have shaken the earth with her fury?
That was what he had expected. That was how it was supposed to be.
But no.
Nothing.
And that silence was louder than any scream.
It told him everything.
Something was wrong.
Terribly, horribly wrong.
And the worst part? Nobody—nobody, not even Ophelia, not even Kian, especially not Kian—seemed to notice. Nobody acted like they cared. Nobody even seemed to realize she was gone.
And that made his blood boil.
So he started searching.
At first, it was subtle—questions here and there, keeping his ears open, his nose sharp. But every answer he got was the same.
"She’s sick."
"She traveled to the city where her mother lives."
"She’s just getting treatment."
It was a good lie. A neat lie. One that fit together too perfectly.
And maybe he should have believed it. Maybe any other man would’ve taken it at face value and moved on.
But not Luca.
Because instinct was instinct. A wolf’s instinct never failed.
And his screamed that something was wrong.
So he kept watching. Observing. The villagers, the guards, the servants. Everyone acted normal. Too normal. Their laughter hadn’t dimmed, their routines hadn’t shifted. The palace breathed like nothing had happened.
Except for one man.
Asael.
Asael, who was always by Kian’s side. Asael, the shadow no one could escape. If you wanted to see the king, you saw Asael first. That was how it had always been.
But then, suddenly, Asael was... less. Less visible. Less present. Slipping away from the king’s side. Slipping out of the palace’s eye.
Suspicious didn’t even begin to cover it.
And Luca knew—he knew—it wasn’t coincidence. Asael’s unusual disappearances and Shelia’s sudden vanishing were connected. They had to be.
So he started tracing him.
Every time Asael slipped away, Luca followed. He trailed him quietly, relying on scent more than sight, padding his steps carefully through corridors and courtyards, nose tilted just slightly toward the ground.
And every time, the same thing happened.
The scent stopped.
At a wall.
No door. No passage. Nothing but cold, hard stone.
Luca clawed at it more than once, checked every crack, every uneven surface. But there was nothing. The trail ended there. Every time.
It was maddening.
And so finally, he decided. If the trail wouldn’t give him answers, then Asael himself would.
That was why he stood here tonight.
That was why, when Asael finally appeared, Luca didn’t hesitate.
"You shouldn’t be here, Luca," Asael said at last, his voice cutting through Luca’s outburst like a blade. His tone was flat, almost bored. He didn’t even look rattled, as though Luca’s anger meant nothing.
He didn’t owe Luca anything. He didn’t owe anyone anything. Not explanations. Not words. His loyalty belonged to one man only—the king.
"Leave."
The word dropped heavy in the silence. It wasn’t a request. It was a command.
For a second, the corridor was still.
And then Luca laughed.
Not a chuckle. Not a smirk. A full, unhinged, hysterical laugh that echoed off the stone walls. His head tilted back, shoulders shaking, the sound sharp and jagged like broken glass.
Asael tensed immediately, claws flexing at his sides. He knew what was coming.
Luca stumbled back, one hand bracing against the wall as his laughter died into a growl. His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling as the wolf stirred inside him.
His eyes glowed unnaturally in the dark, flickering with silver light as his body shifted. Bones cracked, muscles twisted, fur burst across his skin.
In seconds, he wasn’t Luca the head of the guards anymore. He was the wolf. Massive, gray-blue, his claws digging into the stone floor, teeth bared in a feral snarl.
Asael’s jaw tightened. He gave no more warnings.
His own body shuddered, claws lengthening fully as his form twisted and reshaped. In the flicker of torchlight, the king’s shadow transformed too.
Wolf against Lion.
The silence shattered.