Lyra’s POV

I sat on the edge of what used to be our bed — mine and Thorne’s. His side had been untouched for more than a year, the sheets cold and untouched. The silence around me was almost suffocating, pressing against my chest like a weight I couldn’t shake off.

Once, this room had smelled of lavender from my oils, its air soft and warm with affection. Now, it reeked of emptiness — of a love that had rotted away and left behind only bitterness.

My fingers trembled around the phone in my hand. I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the call button. For a long moment, I just breathed. Then I pressed it.

The line barely rang before a voice answered — deep, sharp, and filled with restrained fury. “Lyra,” Alpha Corvin said, his tone smooth but edged like a blade. “To what do I owe this sudden call?”

I swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “I… need your help,” I admitted. My voice shook slightly before I forced it steady. “I need you to come get me out of Moonveil Pack. I’ll be ready once the elder finalizes everything.”

For a moment, there was only silence. When Corvin finally spoke, his words dripped with anger. “Help? After all these years? After you chose him over me?”

Guilt washed through me like ice water. “I made a mistake,” I said softly. “I thought I knew what I wanted.”

He gave a low, bitter laugh. “A mistake? I offered you everything — a bond, loyalty, love — and you ran off with the first wolf who promised you the world.”

“I thought he’d learn to love me,” I whispered. “I thought I made the right choice.”

“And now you see the truth,” he said sharply. “So what do you want from me now?”

“I’m leaving him,” I replied, barely above a whisper. “But I need time. There are things I have to take care of before I go.”

Corvin’s tone dropped to something darker. “You have two weeks, Lyra. If you’re not free by then, I’ll come and take you myself.”

Then the call ended.

The phone slipped from my hand, landing beside me on the bed as the dial tone hummed faintly. His words lingered, heavy and possessive. He hadn’t changed — still as controlling as ever — yet there was protection buried in that threat. I didn’t know whether to feel comforted or terrified.

Sleep never came that night. I wandered through the Luna quarters like a ghost, my fingers brushing along polished tables and velvet curtains. Eventually, I found myself opening drawers, pulling out the gifts Thorne had given me over the years.

A ruby necklace — stunning, expensive, but hollow. I had always preferred emeralds, the color of calm and renewal.

An orange handbag — loud, flashy, completely unlike me. That had always been Lilith’s color. I liked soft greens, quiet earth tones.

A golden bracelet — elegant, but cold. I had always been drawn to silver — understated, resilient, quietly strong.

It hit me then — even in the things he chose for me, Thorne never really saw me.

When the first light of dawn touched the curtains, I heard the front door creak. Thorne entered, hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, and smelling unmistakably of another woman — Lilith.

His gaze fell on the items laid neatly on the table. “What’s all this?”

“Just things I don’t need anymore,” I said calmly, though my chest ached with every word. “Maybe Lilith would appreciate them. They suit her more than me.”

He said nothing. No irritation, no guilt — only a small, indifferent nod, as if I’d mentioned something trivial. That indifference stung worse than any argument ever could.

Then came a sudden crash.

We both turned. Lilith stood near the wall, her eyes wide as she stared down at the shattered remains of our wedding photo. A large framed picture — the one of me and Thorne smiling beneath the altar — lay broken across the floor.

“Oh no,” she gasped, feigning innocence as she crouched to gather the shards. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to break it.”

Thorne immediately rushed to her, worry etched on his face. “Are you hurt?”

Lilith shook her head, tears glistening. “Just startled.”

He pulled her close, holding her protectively. “You’re what matters most, Lilith. Nothing else.”

I stood motionless, my gaze falling to the splintered glass. The cracks reflected our marriage — once whole, now irreparable.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, bending to help. A sharp sting cut through my finger as a shard drew blood, but I didn’t stop.

When I looked up again, I saw Lilith’s expression change — a glint of satisfaction flickering beneath her false concern. “Alpha… I don’t feel safe being alone tonight,” she said sweetly. “My staff’s gone for the evening. Could I stay here for a while?”

“Of course,” Thorne said instantly. “Stay in the Luna quarters. They’re the most comfortable.”

He didn’t even look my way. Didn’t ask. Didn’t care.

So I walked out quietly and went to the guest room. The air there felt stale, untouched. The bed was stiff, the furniture dull — not a room meant for a Luna.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face looked hollow, my eyes rimmed with exhaustion. The color had drained from my skin. Loving Thorne had drained everything from me.

The tears came easily this time — not just for him, but for myself. For the years I had wasted, for the woman I had allowed myself to become. I had surrendered my strength and my pride to a wolf who saw me only as a replacement.

But that ended tonight.

I opened my old journal, the one I hadn’t touched since before the marriage, and began to write — not about Thorne or Lilith, but about me. My thoughts. My anger. My rediscovery.

I wasn’t just someone’s second choice.

I was going to be my own first.

Lyra’s POV

For two long years, I’d worn the Luna title like a cloak that never quite fit—too heavy, too tight, never really mine. Even after all that time, Thorne and I didn’t share a bed.

He once told me, “I just sleep better alone.” But it wasn’t his words that stung—it was the way he said them, eyes avoiding mine, tone clipped and distant. He didn’t mean he preferred solitude. He meant he couldn’t stand lying beside me.

That afternoon, as the sun dipped low and spilled orange light across the polished floors of the pack house, Thorne stood before everyone and announced that Lilith would be staying indefinitely. Not only that—she would be moving into the Luna quarters.

My quarters.

I didn’t react. Didn’t protest. I simply gave a small nod and murmured, “Alright.” I could feel his gaze on me, searching for a flicker of outrage or heartbreak—something to prove I still cared. But I was too exhausted for either. There was no point clinging to something that had already been taken from me piece by piece.

When I turned away to pack my things, his footsteps echoed down the hall. And just like that, he was gone again—with her.

In my old room, sunlight streamed through the windows, painting everything gold. I stood in the middle of the space I’d once tried so hard to make feel like home. Now, it just felt foreign.

On the shelf sat our wedding photo—cracked from the fall it took earlier that morning when Lilith “accidentally” knocked it down. I hadn’t been able to throw it away. Carefully, I lifted it down, ready to pack it. But as I slid it into the box, I didn’t notice the jagged edge of glass sticking out.

My hand slipped.

“Damn it—” I gasped, stumbling back. My knee hit the broken shards, and a sharp pain tore through my leg. Blood welled up instantly, seeping through the fabric of my dress. The gash was deep, throbbing in rhythm with my pulse.

I glanced toward the door. Empty. No footsteps. No scent of the man who was supposed to be my mate.

He didn’t come. He hadn’t even noticed.

I pressed the hem of my shirt against the wound, gritting my teeth as the pain burned. But even that physical sting couldn’t compare to the ache hollowing my chest.

Not once in our marriage had Thorne ever comforted me—not when nightmares kept me awake, not when I was sick, not even when I’d been captured by rogues and nearly killed. But Lilith arrived, and suddenly he could offer everything—my bed, my quarters, even my title.

By sunset, I had finished moving my things. I limped slightly as I carried the last box into one of the guest rooms. The scent of antiseptic clung to my hands from treating my wound alone. I hadn’t called a healer. I refused to give anyone another reason to whisper that I was “too fragile to be Luna.”

When Thorne finally returned, the faint aroma of Lilith’s jasmine perfume still clinging to him, he looked at the boxes lined up neatly in the hallway.

“Why are you packing?” he asked casually, as though nothing had changed.

I gave a small, practiced smile. “Just clearing out things I don’t need anymore.”

His brow furrowed briefly, but he didn’t press. “Lilith’s only staying temporarily.”

“Of course,” I said softly.

He nodded once, then walked away.

Later that evening, he appeared again, tone clipped and formal. “We’re attending the Alpha Gathering tomorrow.”

“You want me to come?” I asked, surprised.

“You’re still Luna, aren’t you?” he replied flatly. “You’re expected.”

Of course. Duty over dignity—that was the story of my life.

But I wasn’t the only woman on his arm that night.

Lilith came too, wearing an emerald silk gown that shimmered under the chandeliers. Her hair, braided with moonflowers, glowed under the light. She looked ethereal. And Thorne didn’t hide the way his gaze followed her, full of admiration he’d never once shown me.

The venue was grand—a towering hall filled with Alphas and Lunas from every corner of the region. The air smelled of dominance, perfume, and expensive wine.

When we entered, the host—a large Alpha from Granite Ridge—approached us with a polite smile. “Alpha Thorne, Luna Lyra—it’s an honor to see you again.”

Before I could reply, Thorne cut in.

“She’s not my Luna,” he said quickly, his voice sharp, dismissive. “This is Lilith, daughter of the Ravencourt Pack.”

The host blinked in surprise but quickly recovered, nodding stiffly. “Ah. My apologies.”

I said nothing. My expression didn’t falter. But inside, something deep and fragile inside me cracked. He didn’t even look at me when he said it. Didn’t use my title. Just my name—like I was some stranger who had once meant something.

We sat at our assigned table. The noise around us faded into a low hum as I focused on the golden-rimmed plates before me. My wolf stirred uneasily, restless and humiliated.

And then, out of nowhere, a scent drifted through the air. Subtle at first—woodsy, warm, electric. My wolf snapped her head up inside me, ears perked, tail flicking.

My pulse quickened. My palms grew damp.

That scent… it pulled at me—gentle but irresistible, like gravity itself had shifted. My wolf began to pace, confused, intrigued, yearning.

I inhaled again. The feeling grew stronger. My lungs couldn’t seem to draw in enough air.

“I need some air,” I murmured, pushing back my chair.

Thorne barely noticed.

I slipped out through a side door, my heart hammering wildly. The cool night air hit my skin, but the scent only grew stronger, wrapping around me like a whisper.

Because it wasn’t Thorne’s scent.

And deep down, my wolf already knew whose it was.

That terrified me.

Lyra’s POV

The nausea slammed into me without warning—violent, relentless. It wasn’t the kind that came from skipping meals or standing too long; it clawed deeper, twisting through my core like invisible talons. I pressed my palm to my temple and braced against the wall just outside the banquet hall, struggling to draw in air.

This wasn’t normal. My wolf was agitated, pacing inside me, her ears flattened and her tail low—not frightened, but uneasy. Something was wrong. I didn’t know what it was, only that I needed to get away—fast.

The organizers had mentioned a few private rest suites upstairs for guests who needed a break. I stumbled toward one, slipping inside and locking the door behind me. The second I shut out the noise—the chatter, the scents of dominance and perfume—the tension began to ease. My breathing steadied, though the unease still lingered like a storm waiting to break.

I sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly, staring at the floor. Maybe it was stress. Or maybe it was the humiliation still echoing in my mind—Thorne standing beside Lilith, introducing her like his Luna while I stood there, invisible.

Just as I steadied myself to return, a soft click broke the silence.

The doorknob turned. Lilith slipped inside, not even bothering to knock. Her perfume drifted in first—sweet, heavy, suffocating.

“Well,” she drawled, her smile sharp as glass. “Look who’s hiding while the real Luna enjoys the spotlight.”

I didn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

She walked forward, her heels tapping rhythmically against the marble. “You always pretend you don’t care,” she said, mock sympathy dripping from every word. “But you do. You always have. You just can’t stand the fact that he loves me, not you.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” I replied quietly. “You can have him. I don’t want what doesn’t want me.”

Lilith’s smirk deepened as she crossed her arms. “Oh, please. Spare me the act. You were never his choice, Lyra. You latched on when I left, thinking wearing the Luna crown would make you someone.”

My stomach twisted again, worse this time. My knees threatened to give way. I gripped the edge of the bed for balance, fighting the dizziness clawing at me. What was happening to me? Why did my body feel like it was rejecting itself?

“Whatever you’re trying to pull,” I ground out, “I’m done playing your games.”

Her eyes gleamed with something dark. “Who said this was a game?” she murmured, turning for the door. She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “You should lie down—you look terrible.” Her tone was honeyed venom.

Then she stepped out—and the lock slid into place from the outside.

I lunged for the door, rattling the handle. It wouldn’t budge. I heard the faint rustle of a Do Not Disturb tag being hung, followed by silence.

The strange feeling surged again, stronger, relentless. My knees gave way and I collapsed onto the bed, my body trembling as heat consumed me from within. My wolf howled in agony, frantic and desperate—but for what, I didn’t know.

I reached through the mindlink, gasping for his name. Thorne. Alpha Thorne… please—

Nothing.

Only silence.

My body shook uncontrollably. My skin burned; my heartbeat thundered in my chest until it hurt. The nausea and the heat tangled together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. My wolf clawed at my mind, wild and confused, and the world tilted—then vanished into black.

---

Third Person POV

The Alpha Gathering wound down in a haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and hollow toasts to future alliances. Lyra never came back.

Alpha Thorne stood near the center of the hall, a drink in his hand and Lilith tucked neatly under his arm. Once or twice, he glanced toward the entrance—though only because Lilith had murmured, “She probably went home early. She looked… upset.”

He didn’t even bother pretending to care.

“She’s dramatic,” he said, shrugging. “Always makes a scene when things don’t go her way.”

Lilith tilted her head, her voice soft with mock concern. “I hope she’s not doing anything foolish.”

Thorne smirked, finishing his drink. “She’s fine. She always is.”

With that, he guided Lilith out to their car, never once asking where his Luna had gone—or whether she was safe.

The next morning, a hotel maid knocked gently on one of the locked suite doors. When no one answered, she let herself in. What she saw made her gasp.

Lyra lay sprawled across the bed, her skin pale and slick with sweat, chest rising shallowly. Her body radiated heat like she was caught in a fever.

“Oh, Goddess,” the woman whispered, rushing forward. “Miss? Are you alright?”

Lyra stirred weakly, eyelids fluttering open. “I’m fine,” she rasped, forcing herself upright even as her body trembled.

She wasn’t fine. But she refused to let anyone see that.

Every muscle screamed in protest as she stood and gathered her things. The night before was a blur, but the memory of the pain—and the strange pull inside her—still lingered like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Outside, she flagged down a cab. In the back seat, she dug her phone out of her bag. Missed calls, unread messages—but none from Thorne. Not a single one.

Her throat tightened. Then she noticed another name flashing across the screen.

Alpha Corvin.

[I saw you at the gathering, but you disappeared. Where did you go?]

[I tried to find you, but I started feeling sick too. Something was off.]

[Are you okay?]

[If you don’t reply, I’ll send my wolves to track you down.]

[I can’t wait any longer, Lyra. A few days—that’s all you get. After that, I’m coming for you.]