Okay... is she awake?"

"I think so."

"Good. That makes things easier."

Myra squinted as the voices reached her, her vision still blurred and heavy with sleep. Everything felt distant, like she was being dragged back into her body against her will. Slowly, shapes began to form in front of her, though she could barely make out their faces.

"It's good that you're awake," one of them said. "The Beta sent us to get you."

"Huh...?" The sound left her lips weakly, her mind struggling to catch up with what was happening.

She didn't understand, not until they pulled her to her feet and dragged her outside.

The moment sunlight hit her face, she froze. For a second, she couldn't breathe.

Then her chest tightened as emotion surged through her. The open fields stretched endlessly ahead, the fresh air brushing against her skin, and something deep within her stirred violently. Her wolf was restless, desperate to run.

"The Alpha wanted you to remain in the dungeon," one of them continued as they walked, "but Miss Lyka pleaded for you."

"You've even been given your old room back in the Alpha's house. You should be grateful."

"Grateful." The word echoed bitterly in her mind.

Lyka.

Lyka.

Lyka. She was so sick of hearing that name.

"Be grateful to Lyka."

"Appreciate Lyka."

"Thank Lyka."

By the time they reached the pack house, Myra's expression had gone completely blank.

Standing at the entrance was Alpha Ryan, her father, waiting for her.

His gaze dropped to her, filled not with concern, but with cold disdain.

"So, you're finally here," he said. She didn't respond.

"But before you step into my house again," he continued, his voice sharp and controlled, "there are a few things you need to understand if you want to avoid unnecessary problems."

Silence settled between them.

"First, you will obey your Aunt Daria in everything." A quiet, humorless chuckle slipped from Myra's lips.

"You mean your mistress? Your whore?" she asked, her voice hoarse but steady. "Because I don't remember my mother having a sister like that."

Pah!

Her head snapped to the side, the sting spreading across her cheek as she struggled to keep her balance.

"Watch your mouth," Ryan said coldly.

Myra lowered her gaze slightly, but there was no submission in her expression.

"From now on, you will remain in your room until after the wedding," he continued. "You are not to leave for any reason."

A brief pause. "After the wedding, a trial will be held to determine your punishment."

Myra's fingers curled faintly at her sides.

"And if you attempt to leave the pack," he added, his voice dropping into something darker, "you will be killed on the spot."

She lifted her head then, meeting his gaze fully.

"You would kill your own daughter?" she asked quietly.

Ryan didn't hesitate. "It is better than having my blood tied to a criminal."

The words settled heavily in the air.

Without another glance, he turned and walked away.

Myra stood there for a moment, unmoving, before finally stepping past the guards and into the house.

The moment she opened the door to her room, everything hit her at once. It was the same.

The same scent. The same space. The same silence.

Like nothing had changed.

Like her life hadn't been destroyed.

She stepped inside slowly, her fingers brushing against familiar surfaces, before something inside her finally gave way.

Myra collapsed onto the bed, clutching the sheets as the tears she had been holding back spilled over. Her body shook with silent sobs, the weight of everything crashing down on her at once.

She didn't know how long she stayed like that.

Time blurred.

Eventually, she forced herself up and made her way to the bathroom, turning on the water and stepping inside without hesitation. She scrubbed at her skin harshly, over and over again, as if she could wash away the dirt, the cell, the humiliation, everything that had been forced onto her.

It didn't work.

It would never work.

When she was done, exhausted and drained, she returned to her room and fell onto the bed, sleep claiming her almost instantly.

A sharp knock sounded at the door, pulling her out of her exhausted slumber.

Lyka stepped into the room slowly, her gaze sweeping across the space "her room was bigger than hers," her fists clenched slightly as her eyes settled on the figure lounging on the bed.

Her curly ginger hair was tied up in a messy bun, her posture relaxed as she leaned against the headboard, she had a clean appearance and her emerald eyes made her face captivating.

"What do you want, Lyka?" Myra asked, her voice low and edged with irritation as she squinted at her. "I need to sleep. There wasn't a soft bed in the cell you threw me into."

Lyka tilted her head slightly, studying her with an amused expression before a faint smirk curved her lips.

"How does it feel?"

Myra frowned, unimpressed. "How does what feel?"

A short, mocking laugh left Lyka as she crossed her arms, her gaze dragging slowly over Myra in a way that was both deliberate and condescending.

"Don't play dumb," she said. "Your mate is mine now, your family listens to me, and soon your pack will belong to my brother... So tell me, Myra, how does it feel to lose everything in a single moment?"

For a brief second, Myra said nothing, her expression unreadable.

Then she smiled coldly, "It doesn't feel like anything," she replied calmly, her voice steady despite everything. "You're just a piece of garbage trying to prove something."

Lyka's expression flickered, but Myra didn't stop.

"But no matter what you take," she continued, taking a slow step forward, "it won't change what you are."

Silence settled heavily between them.

"You're still an illegitimate child," Myra said quietly, her gaze locking onto hers.

Lyka's jaw tightened.

"A bastard," Myra added, her tone almost casual now, as though she wasn't tearing into her at all. "At least your brother has a name-your mother made sure of that before he was born... but you? You'll carry that stain for the rest of your life. You were the fucking product of a disgraceful affair"

The air in the room shifted as the tension thickened

"And taking things from me won't change it," Myra finished, her smile faint but cutting.

For a moment, Lyka just stared at her, her anger barely contained beneath the surface.

"You'll regret that," she said slowly, her voice lower now, more dangerous. Myra didn't even bother reacting.

"Then leave," she said flatly, already turning away. "And close the door behind you softly, I don't need the noise."

Lyka's eyes were filled with rage, she spun around and stormed out, the door slamming shut with enough force to shake the frame.

The room was engulfed in silence, only this time, it felt heavier.

Myra exhaled slowly before dropping onto the bed, her body sinking into the softness as exhaustion finally caught up to her. She hadn't realized just how drained she was until that moment, and within seconds, sleep dragged her under.

When she woke again, the first thing she felt was hunger.

Her stomach twisted painfully as she sat up, running a hand through her hair before swinging her legs off the bed. The rules her father had laid out flickered briefly in her mind, but she pushed them aside without a second thought.

She didn't care right now. The only thing that was important was just food. Myra stepped out of her room and made her way downstairs, her steps slow but steady despite the weakness still lingering in her body. Voices drifted through the hallway as she approached, and she paused for only a moment when she heard a familiar one.

"...everything must be perfect," Daria was saying. "The Lycan King will be attending, and we cannot afford any mistakes."

Myra almost scoffed at that.

The Lycan King?

A quiet chuckle slipped from her lips as she stepped into view.

Daria turned immediately, her sharp gaze locking onto Myra as one hand settled on her waist.

"And what are you doing here?" she demanded.

Myra gestured lazily to her stomach. "I'm hungry." Daria's expression darkened instantly. "And who gave you permission to eat?"

Myra raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. "I'm in my father's house... are you planning to starve me?"

"Your father made it clear," Daria snapped, stepping closer, "that you are to obey me, and you will eat when I say you can eat."

Myra let out a quiet chuckle, her expression calm, almost bored.

"I'm sure my father has more important things to worry about," she said smoothly, her gaze flicking around briefly before returning to Daria. "Like preparing for his precious daughter's wedding."

She paused, then added lightly,

"My hunger isn't exactly a threat to your plans." And just like that, she walked past her, Straight into the kitchen.

Ignoring the servants and their stares, Myra grabbed whatever food she could reach, eating without hesitation as she leaned against the counter. She rested her chin on her hands and looked at the busy servants, the house was decorated beautifully, she looked at the pictures of Aiden and Lyka, her fists clenched in disgust, her body aching for a run. She looked around, nobody was interested in guarding her, she slowly slid out the back door before running to the fields transforming into a huge wolf. Her fur brown but unlike others it had a ginger color hue, her eyes were amber. She sprinted to the woods finally feeling the wind. Ever since she came back, this was the first time she felt ecstatic. After wandering in the woods, a sweet smell passed through her nose, a familiar one...