Chapter 3: Bound by Fate

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Aria yanked her wrist free, her skin burning from where he had touched her.

“Okay, let’s back up a second,” she said, voice tight. “You disappear after a one-night stand, I find out I’m pregnant, and now you’re here saying—what? That I belong to you?”

Lucian didn’t even flinch. His stare was unyielding, intense. “Yes.”

Aria laughed. Not a haha this-is-funny laugh, but the kind that came out when your brain refused to process sheer insanity. “That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.”

Lucian took a slow step forward. She should have run. Should have bolted in the opposite direction. But something about him—something about the way he looked at her—kept her frozen.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured, his voice lower now, softer. “I felt it that night. You did too.”

She swallowed hard, refusing to acknowledge the truth in his words. That night had been different. He had been different.

“Lucian,” she started, carefully choosing her words, “I don’t know what weird, old-fashioned possessive fantasy you’re living in, but—”

His hand lifted, just a fraction, as if he wanted to touch her. Then, almost like he thought better of it, he clenched his fist instead.

“This isn’t a fantasy,” he said. “It’s real. And whether you believe it or not, you are my mate.”

Mate. He kept saying that word like it meant something more than just a hookup gone wrong.

Aria folded her arms. “Oh really? And what exactly does that mean?”

Lucian’s jaw tightened. “It means,” he said slowly, “that you and I are bound together. That this isn’t chance. That you—” his eyes flickered to her stomach, and something almost reverent crossed his face “—are carrying my heir.”

Heir. Oh hell no.

Aria threw up her hands. “Alright, buddy, that’s enough.” She took a step back, forcing herself to breathe. “Look, I don’t know what kind of medieval nonsense you’re spouting, but I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all someone who couldn’t even bother to leave a damn phone number.”

Something flickered in Lucian’s expression. Guilt? No, something darker.

“I stayed away for a reason,” he admitted, voice low.

Aria scoffed. “Right. And now you’re back, ready to play ‘Happy Family’? No thanks.”

Lucian’s nostrils flared. “You don’t get it,” he said, stepping closer—too close. The air between them crackled with tension. “You think you had a choice in all this? You didn’t. Neither of us did.”

She frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

Lucian exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face, as if debating something. Then, finally, he met her gaze.

“It means,” he said, “that I’m not human.”

Silence.

Aria blinked. Once. Twice. Then she laughed.

“Okay,” she said, still laughing. “Now I know you’re crazy.”

Lucian didn’t smile. Didn’t waver.

And that’s when it hit her.

He wasn’t joking.

The air between them shifted. Aria’s stomach twisted—not just from fear, but from something deeper. Some primal instinct inside her whispered that he was telling the truth.

Lucian took another step forward. His voice was low, intimate, like a secret meant only for her.

“I’m a werewolf, Aria.”

Aria’s breath caught.

Lucian tilted his head, watching her reaction carefully. “And whether you’re ready or not… you are mine.”

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End of Chapter 3.

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