<b>Chapter </b><b>99 </b>


    Peirce Godwin POV


    The Crucible, ck Rock Mountains, Montana


    The scent of sulfur and scorched earth clung to the walls like perfume, foul to most, but intoxicating to me. Lucien’s blood pool still steamed, thick and ck red, a reminder of ourst ritual’s cost. Three lives wasted and still no summoning. But failure was simply the toll to innovation.


    I leaned back in the obsidian chair at the head of the war table, my fingers steepled, eyes sharp on the flickering air as a portal cracked open. The magic was wild and rushed. Someone was scared. Good.


    Caera and Rourke. They stumbled through like beaten dogs. Torn robes, scorched skin, magic leaking from them like busted pipes.


    “Fucking finally,” I muttered, rising to my feet, venom curling in my throat.


    Caera copsed to her knees, blood dribbling from her nose. Rourke looked worse, he was barely upright. Pathetic.


    Lucien Virell stepped out of the darkness, more shadow than man, his eyes ck pits of frozen rage. He said nothing. He didn’t need <b>to</b><b>. </b>The room thickened with his disdain.


    “Well?” I snapped, my voice cutting the silence like a de. “Tell me you killed the bitch. Tell me her corpse is fertilizing coven soil.”


    Caera lifted her face, shaking. “We, we were caught. Banish’d before we could strike. The MacCrae coven she spat blood “they stand wi


    thess.”


    Rourke’s jaw clenched. “Aye. They saw through us. We werepromised, had nae choice.”


    My boots hit the stone floor hard as I crossed the chamber and mmed one straight into Rourke’s ribs. He hit the ground like dead weight, coughing hard.


    “You were alwayspromised,” I snarled, looming over him. “You should’ve slit throats in the night and burned the godsdamn grove.”


    Lucien’s voice slipped in like poisoned silk. “She builds a circle. The prophecy advances. Faster than predicted.


    I growled. “She’s mine. That fucking hybrid is mine. She was born to be shackled, silenced and bred.” I turned, pacing like a caged predator. “She doesn’t even know what she is yet. But I do. The Moon Goddess’s weapon. And I will fuck her until her screams shake the veil and she gives me children soaked in magic.”


    Caera winced. Lucien smirked. “Still thinking like a human. Sex. Ownership. Breeding.”


    P


    “Unlike you,” I snapped, “I can’t crawl through shadows and suck blood for answers. I have to build power. Brick by brutal brick.”


    Lucien drifted closer. “And your hatred makes you… delicious.”


    I ignored the monster. “Where is she?” Caera swallowed. “Still in Scond. At the covennds. But she’ll return tae the keep soon enough.”


    “Let her,” I growled. “Let her feel safe. Let her gather her packs and her witches and her pathetic Marines. She’ll slip. One mistake, and


    she’s mine.”


    84


    <b>9:25 </b><b>Fri</b><b>, </b><b>Oct </b><b>3 </b>


    around Lucien turned toward the center of the room, the blood pool hissing around his hoots. Prepare the second jegion. Send scouts in the borders. They’ll seek more allies. And summon Valira, we’ll need illusions.”


    1 looked down at Caera and Rourke. You two worthless shits. Get out of my sight. You get one more chance. Track her. Bired <b>for </b>Redeem yourselves or… I smiled cruelly.. “you’ll learn what true pain feels like.”


    Caera’s lip curled as she stood. “Ye’ll regret speakin‘ tae me like that, ye arrogant bastard. Rourke spat blood. “We’ll find her sh ready next time.”


    Lucien chuckled. “Oh, you won’t be ready either. That’s the fun part.” The portal red again behind them. This wasn’t over. The <b>hybrid </b>bitch was mine, and when I had her, so <b>was </b>magic itself.


    Absolutely–here’s your rewritten version of Lucien’s dark AF scene, with all the narration in past tense and the dialogue staying <b>in </b>present tense, exactly as you requested:


    Lucien Virell POV


    His Dungeon at The Crucible


    Fool. Fucking imbecil?. <fn1b18> Follow current nov?ls on Find~Novel</fn1b18>


    Peirce Godwin had always been a one–track, thick–skulled sack of lust and arrogance. The man paraded around like <b>a </b>war general while I steered his mind like a ship in a storm. And the best part? He had no idea.


    I leaned over the writhing body chained to the altar, young and healthy. Prime blood. His heart thundered beneath my palm as I hummed softly and traced a sigil into his chest with a single w. He whimpered. Begged. I licked his cheek.


    “You’ll do nicely,” I whispered. “No one told you your blood would feed evolution, did they?”


    The boy sobbed, and <b>I </b>smiled.