Lyanna's POV
She gave a smug little shrug.
“Still more than you.”
That was the final blow.
Before I could think, I struck the memory crystal from her hand. It crashed against the stone floor with a sharp crack.
Natalie barely had time to react before I lunged at her.
My hand closed around her throat.
We stumbled backward together, crashing hard into the bedside table. Something toppled and rolled across the floor.
Then the scent hit me.
Oil.
Sharp and unmistakable.
My stomach dropped.
“Natalie…” I gasped, my grip loosening. “What did you do?”
The dark bottle tipped over completely, spilling its contents across the carpet.
She smiled.
Then—
A spark.
I did not even see where it came from.
Only a sudden flash.
Then flames.
They burst upward in an instant, racing along the floor, climbing the curtains, swallowing the walls as though the room had been waiting to burn.
“Stop!” I coughed, stumbling backward as smoke rushed into the air.
Natalie grabbed my arm.
She shoved me.
I shoved back.
We both struggled blindly as the flames rose between us like a living beast.
The heat was unbearable.
The smoke scorched my lungs with the first breath.
Then, somewhere in the chaos—
Natalie screamed.
And I fell.
---
“Lyanna!”
The voice tore through the roar of the flames.
My eyes forced themselves open against the smoke.
At the doorway stood Alpha Draven Blackmark, shouting as the pack warriors tried to hold him back.
“My Alpha, you cannot go in!”
“Move!”
My heart twisted so hard it hurt.
For one foolish second, I thought—
He came for me.
“Draven!” I cried, trying to lift myself from the floor. “I am here!”
Then Natalie called out weakly from the smoke behind me.
“Draven… please… help me…”
And everything in his expression changed.
That was all it took.
He rushed past me.
Straight to her.
He did not even glance back.
---
I do not know how long I lay there after that.
The smoke grew thicker.
The heat grew heavier.
My vision blurred until the world became nothing but fire and pain.
And then—
Something inside me broke.
Or perhaps awakened.
One moment I was choking on the floor.
The next—
Pain.
Agony unlike anything I had ever known.
My bones twisted.
My skin burned.
My body tore itself apart and rebuilt again beneath the force of instinct.
I shifted.
My wolf burst free.
The world sharpened instantly.
The crackle of flames.
The smell of burning wood.
The smallest movement in the smoke.
The fire was no longer chaos.
It became something I could understand.
A wall.
A pattern.
A path.
I seized my bag in my jaws and ran.
With every ounce of strength I had left, I hurled myself through the glass window.
The shards tore into my side, but I did not stop.
I hit the ground hard outside, rolling into the wet grass, coughing violently.
Alive.
Barely alive.
I did not look back at the burning pack house.
I ran.
Through the side paths.
Through the darkness.
Through the pain ripping through my body.
I ran until I found one of the old service gates hanging open.
And I kept running.
Even when my legs trembled.
Even when my lungs burned.
Even when blood dripped from my wounds into the earth.
I did not stop until the pack lands were far behind me.
---
The moonport terminal was silent.
Too silent.
I sat alone in the far corner, wrapped in a borrowed cloak, my hands trembling.
My communication crystal glowed.
A message from Draven.
Do not play games, Lyanna. I do not have time to chase you.
I stared at the words.
No rage.
No grief.
No pain.
Only emptiness.
Slowly, I closed my hand around the crystal.
Then I crushed the light within it and turned away.
Draven’s POV
[Tomorrow at first light, Natalie’s healer appointment. You will accompany her. Have the healer examine your lungs as well.]
I sent the message through the pack mindlink and waited for the familiar flicker that told me Lyanna had received it.
Nothing.
No answer.
Not even the faint sign that she had opened the link.
At first, I ignored it.
Lyanna often shut me out when she was upset. She would refuse my messages, avoid me for a while, and then return as she always did.
But this time…
The silence felt wrong.
Different.
Heavy.
---
The next morning, the healer’s den was quiet except for hushed voices and the scent of herbs.
Natalie clung to my arm the moment we entered.
“Draven,” she asked softly, “is everything alright? Is the pup safe?”
I nodded.
“The healer said everything is stable. The fire caused no harm.”
She let out a long breath.
“Thank the Moon Goddess…”
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, my thoughts drifted.
Lyanna’s face.
That last look she gave me through the smoke.
There had been no fear in it.
No anger.
Only acceptance.
As if she already knew I would not choose her.
And the worst part was—
I had not.
---
After the appointment, I returned Natalie to the pack house and went straight to the council hall.
The entire ride, my mindlink remained silent.
Too silent.
My beta met me as I entered.
“My Alpha, Elder Alden has returned. The summit begins tonight.”
I nodded without slowing.
But something in my chest tightened.
Lyanna still had not been found.
No reports.
No sign at the gates.
No scent on the borders.
Nothing.
It was as if she had vanished from the pack entirely.
“She did not report to the healer?” I asked.
“No, Alpha.”
I kept walking.
“Did she return to the pack house?”
“No.”
My jaw tightened.
“Then where in the hell is she?”
My beta said nothing.
Because he did not know.
None of them did.
---
I quickened my pace, speaking over my shoulder.
“Send a few new gowns and jewels to the Sterling estate.”
My steward hesitated.
“For Lady Natalie?”
I stopped.
The question felt wrong.
“…No,” I said after a moment. “Send them to Lyanna.”
If she had gone anywhere, it would be to the Sterling Pack.
But even as I gave the order, unease settled in my stomach.
And I hated that I could not name the reason.
---
A full week passed.
Council meetings.
Border reports.
Patrol rotations.
Disputes with neighboring packs.
The ordinary burdens of an Alpha.
Everything should have felt normal.
Nothing did.
Just after midnight, I returned from a long meeting with the patrol captains.
The pack house was dark, except for one lamp glowing in the sitting room.
A figure lay curled on the couch in silk.
For one foolish second, my chest loosened.
“Lyanna,” I murmured, almost amused. “I told you… I always return. You did not need to—”
Then I stopped.
It was not her.
It was Natalie.
She looked up, and the softness in her expression turned to disappointment when she saw me.
“Draven…” Her voice trembled. “She still has not come back. Not once.”
I exhaled slowly and loosened the collar of my shirt.
“She is being dramatic,” I said.
But the words sounded flat, even to me.
Natalie’s eyes glistened.
“I even apologized,” she whispered. “I do not think she will ever forgive me. Maybe I should leave.”
I sat beside her and kissed her forehead.
The gesture felt automatic.
Nothing more.
“Do not upset yourself,” I said quietly. “It is not good for the pup.”
Then after a pause, I added,
“This is your home now. Yours and the child’s.”
I hesitated before finishing.
“…Whether Lyanna accepts it or not.”
The words should have felt decisive.
They did not.
---
Later that night, I stood alone on the terrace.
Cold wind.
Moonlight over the pack lands.
Silence everywhere.
I lit a smokeleaf for the first time in years.
I did not even know why.
It did not calm me.
Nothing did.
My hand moved to the communication crystal at my belt before I even realized it.
Lyanna’s name remained there.
Untouched.
My thumb hovered over the call rune.
I did not press it.
Instead, I sent a message:
Tomorrow is Elder Alden’s eightieth moon celebration. Do not cause trouble. Do not upset Natalie or the pup.
I stared at the message before sending it.
Then I waited.
For what, I did not know.
The wind struck harder across the terrace.
My chest tightened again, sharp and strange.
It is only stress, I told myself.
Nothing more.
But for the first time in years, Alpha Draven Blackmark was not certain of anything at all.
Draven’s POV
Elder Alden Blackmark’s eightieth birthday feast was the kind of gathering where even the wind seemed to bow its head—where every word spoken had weight, every smile was measured, and every bloodline remembered its place beneath the Moon Goddess.
I arrived at the great hall with Natalie on my arm.
Her condition was already visible now. The child she carried drew eyes the moment we stepped inside. Whispers followed like drifting ash through the hall, soft but unending. I ignored them all and kept my expression steady.
Controlled.
Composed.
Unshaken.
That was all that mattered.
Only when my grandfather entered did I release Natalie’s hand.
He was not only the head of the family—he was the one who built the Alden line from nothing but blood and will. And more than that, he had always treated Lyanna as though she belonged in this house by right.
His gaze landed on me at once.
“Where is Lyanna?” he asked.
“She is preparing your offering,” I answered smoothly. “She will arrive shortly.”
He studied me for a moment too long.
As if he could smell the lie beneath my words.
Then he said nothing and turned away.
---
Two hours passed.
Feast songs were sung.
Toasts were raised to honor the elder’s long life.
Wine flowed.
Laughter rose and fell like waves.
Still—
No Lyanna.
My eyes kept drifting toward the entrance without meaning to.
Every time.
Nothing.
My patience thinned with every passing moment.
Where was she?
I was about to step outside and summon a scout through mindlink when the great doors finally opened.
A courier entered, carrying three carefully wrapped boxes marked with faint silver sigils.
“For Elder Alden,” he announced, bowing his head. “From Lady Lyanna Blackmark.”
My chest tightened at once.
Her name always did that.
I stepped forward.
“Give them here.”
The courier shook his head.
“I was instructed to deliver them only to the honored elder.”
Of course she would be like that.
Precise.
Unyielding.
Even in absence.
I exhaled slowly and stepped aside.
“Then do it properly.”
The courier approached my grandfather and bowed deeply.
“These are from Lady Lyanna,” he said. “She sends her blessings on this moonlit day.”
My grandfather frowned.
“Why does she not present them herself?”
Silence followed too slowly.
The courier only repeated himself.
“I was only instructed to deliver them.”
A strange tension settled over the hall.
The air felt heavier.
My instincts sharpened.
Something was wrong.
Still, my grandfather accepted the first box and set it carefully before him.
“I will open them myself,” he said.
The first lid was lifted.
Inside lay an embroidered work—fine, intricate stitching woven with silver thread. A tapestry of the pack lands beneath the full moon, each detail so precise it could only have been made through long nights of steady hands and stubborn patience.
My grandfather’s expression softened.
“She made this,” he murmured.
I already knew.
I had seen her working on it in silence under candlelight, refusing aid even when her fingers bled.
The second box was opened next.
A velvet case.
Inside rested heirloom jewelry of the Alden bloodline—pieces passed down through generations.
The same ornaments she had once worn at our binding ceremony.
My throat tightened.
A cold weight settled in my chest.
Why would she return these?
My grandfather’s expression shifted, growing more serious.
Then the third box was placed before him.
I did not wait.
My hand moved first.
“Draven—” my grandfather began sharply, but I had already taken it.
I pulled it close and tore the wrapping open.
The moment I saw what lay inside, everything in me went still.
My blood ran cold.
My hand froze midair.
Inside the box was Lyanna’s wedding ring.
And beneath it—
a folded note sealed with wax bearing her crest.
