10 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS 

Eve wakes to soft light creeping across the ceiling. The room is still, Lucian must have brought them here after she had passed out asleep in the forest. The fire in the corner burns low, casting orange light across the sheets.

Lucian is beside her, awake but motionless. He rests one arm behind his head, eyes on the ceiling, as if thinking through the day already.

For a moment, she just watches him. His face is relaxed, not the unreadable version everyone else sees.

When he notices her gaze, he turns slightly. "You've been staring for a while."

"I was trying to decide if you actually sleep."

He smiles, faintly. "Sometimes."

She stretches, pulling the blanket up to her chest. "You don't look like someone who rests much."

"Not often." His voice is low, still rough from sleep. "But yesterday was different."

The words hang there. She can feel her cheeks warm, but she doesn't look away. "You mean because of me."

He studies her quietly. "Because of us."

Eve sits up, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. "What happens now? Do I start calling you Alpha Don too?"

Lucian sits up as well, the movement easy, deliberate. "You can call me whatever you like."

"That sounds dangerous."

He gives her that same quiet smile again. "It might be."

For a while, neither of them speaks. The air between them hums with the kind of silence that doesn't need to be filled. Then Lucian reaches for the phone on the nightstand, presses one button, and says, "Bring breakfast here."

Eve tilts her head. "I can walk downstairs."

"You could," he says, "but the pack will be waiting. They'll want to see you. You should be ready."

Her stomach tightens. "You mean they know already?"

"They'll know as soon as they see you." He smirks

The knock comes a few minutes later. Two servers enter quietly, setting down a tray on the small table by the window, coffee, fruit, eggs, and something that looks like roast meat. When they leave, Lucian pours her a cup.

She takes it, still uneasy. "Are they all like this? So... disciplined?"

He nods. "It's what keeps the peace."

Eve sips the coffee, watching him. "And you're their peacekeeper."

"I'm their Alpha. That's not always the same thing."

He says it plainly, without pride or complaint. She sets her cup down. "Does that make me their Luna?"

Lucian looks at her for a long moment. "It makes you mine."

The words send a strange warmth through her. He stands, pulling on his shirt, and glances back at her. "Eat something. Then get dressed. Breakfast with the pack starts at ten."

Eve watches him button his cuffs. "And if I say I'd rather stay here?"

"Then I'd have to convince you otherwise."

She smiles. "You think that's easy?"

"I think you'd let me try."

He leans in, kisses her once, brief but certain, before heading for the door. "Ten o'clock," he says again, and leaves.

Eve sits there for a moment, looking at the empty doorway, the untouched food, the sunlight spilling across the floor. Everything about her life feels unfamiliar now, and somehow, she likes it.

The dining hall is larger than she expected, more like a council chamber than a room for meals. The table stretches almost the length of the floor, covered with silver dishes and strong coffee that fills the air with roasted warmth.

Lucian stands at the head of the table, already speaking quietly with Marco and Dr. Rowan. The conversation stops when Eve enters.

Everyone looks up.

Lucian's eyes find her first. "You're late."

She hesitates, unsure if he's serious. "I didn't realize there was a clock on breakfast."

Marco hides a grin behind his cup. Lucian's mouth curves slightly. "You'll learn."

He gestures toward the seat beside him. "Here."

Eve crosses the room, aware of every glance. Marco, Rowan, and two other lieutenants she doesn't know follow her with polite but assessing eyes. She sits, keeping her posture straight.

Lucian nods to one of the servers. Plates are set in front of her again, this time smaller, eggs, fruit, and a slice of toast she doesn't touch right away.

"Eat," Lucian says quietly.

She picks up her fork. "Are you always this commanding before noon?"

"Only when it works."

That earns a small laugh from Marco. "The Alpha's charming this morning. Must be the weather."

Lucian doesn't look away from Eve. "It's not the weather."

The table goes silent again. Eve focuses on her plate, trying not to blush.

Dr. Rowan clears his throat. "The pack's training numbers are stable. No injuries reported. The border patrols have doubled since last week."

Lucian nods. "Keep them that way. I want eyes on the north perimeter after dusk."

Eve listens, half fascinated. The conversation sounds like business and military rolled together. Orders, reports, coded language. Everyone defers to Lucian without question.

At one point, he leans slightly toward her. "You'll get used to this. It's quieter than it looks."

"I wasn't complaining," she says softly.

"You don't have to. I can read you."

She glances at him, unsure what to say. The way he says it isn't possessive,  it's matter-of-fact, as if he already knows her reactions before she does.

Rowan speaks again, but Eve barely hears. Lucian's hand brushes hers under the table, a small, fleeting touch, gone as soon as it starts. No one else notices.

Her pulse quickens anyway.

A server enters with more coffee, moving carefully between the chairs. The smell mixes with the scent of warm bread and pine from the open window. Eve finally starts to relax, feeling almost comfortable among them.

That's when the doors open.

A woman steps inside, tall and graceful, dressed in a fitted black coat and dark red heels. Her hair is a pale gold that catches the morning light. The same woman from the party before

Lucian's voice is slightly lighter. "Lyra."

Eve turns. The woman smiles, the kind of smile meant to unsettle. "Good morning, Alpha. I hope I'm not interrupting."

"You are," Lucian says, not moving from his seat. "This is a private meeting."

"I heard," Lyra says smoothly, walking closer. "But since when do I need an invitation to see an old friend?"

She stops near the table and looks directly at Eve. "And this must be the new Luna."

Eve stands automatically, unsure what to do. "Eve Moretti."

Lyra's smile doesn't change. "How lovely. I'm Lyra D'Amato. Lucian and I grew up together."

Lucian cuts in, his tone even. "Lyra."

She glances at him, amused. "Relax. I'm only being polite."

The air feels tight. Eve sits again, not trusting her voice. Lyra's presence fills the room, confident and practiced, as if she knows every reaction she causes.

Marco clears his throat. "Perhaps we should continue this later-"

Lucian doesn't move. "That would be best."

Lyra looks at him one last time, then back to Eve. "We'll speak soon. It's what friends do."

Without waiting for permission, she turns and walks out, leaving the faint sound of her heels echoing across the marble floor.

Eve keeps her expression calm, but her stomach twists. Lucian watches the door long after it closes.

"Who is she really?" Eve asks quietly.

He answers without hesitation. "Someone who used to matter in a certain way."

"And now?"

He looks at her. "Now she doesn't, not like that anymore."

Eve wants to believe him. But the look in his eyes when Lyra entered wasn't indifference. It was history.

The hall outside the dining room is quiet compared to the low hum of conversation still drifting from inside. Eve stops near a tall window overlooking the gardens and breathes out. The air here smells faintly of pine and polished wood, less suffocating than the table she just left.

She's about to head back to her room when she hears the sound of heels. Slow, measured, confident.

Lyra rounds the corner. No surprise on her face, only satisfaction. "I thought you might slip away."

Eve straightens. "If you came to talk, you could have waited for a better moment."

Lyra's smile is thin. "Moments don't wait for anyone, dear. Especially not in this house."

She steps closer, looking Eve over as if assessing a rival. "So you're the one who caught him. Impressive. Most people don't last two conversations with Lucian before they're terrified or smitten."

Eve keeps her tone even. "And which one were you?"

Lyra tilts her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Both. For years."

"I didn't ask for a history lesson."

"No," Lyra says softly. "You didn't. But you should hear it anyway. Lucian's loyalty is a performance. He'll give you everything you think you want until something better or more dangerous appears. Then he'll forget you ever existed."

Eve crosses her arms. "You sound jealous."

"Jealousy requires hope." Lyra's voice sharpens. "I'm warning you because I know him. You're a bond, nothing more. I was the choice he made. Remember that when he starts calling you Luna."

Eve forces herself to stay calm. "You're wasting your breath."

"Am I?" Lyra's smile returns. "Watch him long enough. You'll see."

She turns, already walking away, her heels clicking against the marble.

Eve calls after her, "If you're trying to scare me, it isn't working."

Lyra glances back, her voice smooth and cruel. "Then you're not listening closely enough."

She disappears around the corner, leaving Eve staring at the empty hall.

The silence that follows feels heavy. Eve exhales, her hands shaking slightly before she forces them still.

When she returns to the dining room, Lucian is alone, reading through a folder. He looks up when she enters.

"You vanished," he says.

"Lyra found me."

His brow lifts. "Already?"

"She said some things."

"I'm sure she did."

Eve studies him. "She said I was just a bond. That you'd forget me when something better came along."

Lucian sets the folder down and leans back. "And you believed her?"

"I didn't say that."

He smiles faintly. "Good. Because Lyra talks when she wants attention. You'll learn to ignore it."

"She didn't sound like she was making it up."

"She's angry that I didn't choose her," he says simply. "She's like family. Nothing more."

Eve looks at him carefully. "That didn't sound like nothing."

Lucian stands, closing the space between them. "You're overthinking this."

"Am I?"

"Yes." He brushes a strand of hair from her face. "I'm here with you. Not her."

The touch quiets her doubts for the moment. His hand lingers a second longer than it should.

"Then prove it," she says softly.

He leans in and kisses her once, steady and sure. "Does that feel like a man thinking of someone else?"

Eve doesn't answer.

He straightens, calm again. "Come tonight. Dinner with the inner circle. You'll sit beside me."

She nods. "Fine."

Lucian gives her one last look before leaving the room.

Eve stands alone, unsure whether to feel comforted or warned.

Evening settles over the estate by the time Eve finds Lucian in his office. The lights are dim, the windows reflecting the last traces of daylight. He's at his desk, half-focused on a report, sleeves rolled, a glass of whiskey near his hand.

She hesitates in the doorway. "You said to come before dinner."

He gestures to the chair across from him. "Sit."

She does. "Is Lyra staying here?"

His eyes lift from the paper. "For now. She's part of the council, whether I like it or not."

"She's not exactly subtle about her opinions."

Lucian exhales. "You talked to her again."

"She finds me," Eve says quietly. "And she knows exactly what to say."

Before he can answer, a knock sounds at the door. It opens before Lucian can respond. Lyra steps in.

She doesn't look surprised to see Eve. "Oh. I didn't realize you had company."

"Yes, you did," Eve says.

Lyra's smile doesn't waver. "Still learning the rules, I see."

Lucian leans back in his chair, watching them both. "What do you want, Lyra?"

"I came to discuss the new border patrol rotation," she says smoothly. "Marco asked me to relay the numbers."

Lucian nods. "Fine. Leave them here."

She sets a folder on his desk but doesn't move away. "You should be careful trusting the new recruits. Their loyalties are untested."

"I already vetted them," Lucian says. "You can stop worrying."

Lyra looks at Eve then. "Someone has to. You're distracted lately."

Eve's jaw tightens. "He's running a syndicate, not a nursery."

Lyra turns back to Lucian. "See? Sharp tongue. You'll have your hands full with this one."

"Enough," Lucian says quietly.

But Lyra doesn't stop. "I'm just trying to help. You remember what happened last time you trusted someone too quickly."

That hits something. Lucian's expression shifts, just for a second.

Eve looks between them. "What is she talking about?"

Lyra answers first. "Ask him about Venice."

Lucian's voice cuts in, sharper now. "Lyra."

Eve stands. "If there's something I should know, say it."

He meets her gaze, calm again. "There's nothing you need to know. Lyra exaggerates."

Lyra folds her arms, voice softer now. "You used to appreciate honesty, Lucian."

"I still do," he says. "But there's a time and a place."

Eve looks at him, disbelief flickering in her eyes. "You're defending her."

"She's earned it," he replies evenly. "She's saved this pack more than once."

Lyra smiles, triumphant. "See? He remembers."

Eve forces her voice steady. "I'm sure he does."

Lucian stands, stepping between them. "That's enough. Both of you."

Eve looks away. "I'll leave you to your business."

She turns toward the door, but his voice stops her. "Eve."

She doesn't look back. "You've made your point."

"Don't twist this into something it isn't."

"I don't have to," she says quietly. "It already is."

She leaves before he can answer.

Lyra watches her go, then turns to Lucian with that practiced calm. "You shouldn't let her walk away angry. It makes people talk."

Lucian takes a slow breath. "You've done enough talking for both of us."

Lyra steps closer, lowering her voice. "I'm only protecting you. You forget how fragile new bonds can be."

He looks at her then, not angry, but tired. "Go home, Lyra."

"I'm already home," she says softly, and walks out.

Lucian stands there for a long time after the door closes, staring at the empty chair where Eve had been.

Dinner is held in the great hall, the same long table as before but now dressed for ceremony. Candles line the center, their reflections flickering against silver and glass. The pack's inner circle fills every seat, and the quiet hum of conversation feels rehearsed, careful.

Eve sits at Lucian's right. Lyra sits across from her.

Lucian's demeanor is unreadable, calm, polite, perfectly composed. To anyone watching, he looks like a man in control. To Eve, he feels distant, as if a wall stands between them that wasn't there this morning.

Marco pours wine for them both. "To peace in the north," he says, raising his glass.

Lucian nods. "And to those who keep it."

The table echoes the toast. Eve lifts her glass, though her appetite is gone.

Lyra breaks the quiet first. "It's good to see the pack whole again. For a while, I thought you'd never fill that empty chair beside you."

Eve's eyes flick up. Lyra's voice is light, but her smile isn't.

Lucian doesn't look at her. "That seat was never yours."

"No," Lyra says, eyes still on Eve. "But it was mine to keep warm until someone else earned it."

A few glances shift around the table. No one speaks.

Eve sets her glass down carefully. "I didn't realize you were keeping things for him."

Lyra shrugs. "Old habits. Some are harder to break than others."

Lucian's tone is quiet but sharp. "Enough."

Lyra's smile softens. "Of course." She leans back, turning to Marco. "How are the shipments through the southern ports?"

The conversation picks up again, thin and cautious. Lucian listens, says little. Eve keeps her eyes on her plate, forcing herself to breathe evenly.

Halfway through the meal, Lyra leans forward to whisper something to Marco, laughing under her breath. The sound carries.

Eve glances at Lucian. "Does she always do this?"

He sighs quietly. "She's testing you. Ignore her."

"That's easy for you to say. You've known her forever."

He looks at her now. "And I know when not to give her what she wants."

Eve nods, though her stomach is tight. She focuses on cutting the meat on her plate, the knife steady in her hand.

Lyra's voice cuts through again, too casual. "You remember the first time you brought me here, Lucian? We were both younger, less careful."

Lucian's jaw tenses. "This isn't the time."

"I'm only reminiscing," she says. "You were always sentimental about Christmas dinners."

The table goes quiet. Everyone pretends not to listen.

Lyra takes a sip of wine, then looks straight at Eve. "He used to tell me I was his reason for keeping the peace. Sweet, wasn't it?"

Lucian's hand tightens around his glass. "Lyra."

Eve's voice is calm when she speaks. "You're saying that to get a reaction."

Lyra's smile doesn't waver. "Maybe. Or maybe I just miss being honest."

Lucian turns to her fully. "You're crossing a line."

Lyra leans closer across the table. "You always did love me more."

The room goes silent.

Lucian stands abruptly, chair scraping the floor. "That's enough. Leave."

Lyra doesn't move. "Why? Because she's here?"

"Because I said so." His voice is low, steady, but the authority in it fills the room.

Lyra's expression shifts, but only for a second. She stands, smooth and composed. "As you wish, Alpha."

She turns to Eve, her tone quiet but pointed. "Enjoy your dinner, Luna. I'll see you soon."

Eve doesn't reply.

Lyra walks out, the echo of her heels fading down the corridor. The rest of the pack stays silent until Lucian gestures for them to continue.

Eve pushes her chair back. "I've lost my appetite."

Lucian catches her wrist gently. "Don't let her win."

"She already did," Eve says, pulling free. "You let her."

He stands, but she's already walking away.

By the time he reaches the door, she's gone.

Outside, the night air is cold and still. From the far end of the corridor, Lyra watches through a half-open doorway, the faintest smile on her lips.