Lyra’s POV

I didn’t move at first. Just stood there, the door half-splintered from my kick, staring at him as my pulse thundered and my wolf snarled beneath my skin.

His fingers still clutched the picture of Elowen as though it were a sacred charm. His other hand…

Goddess above.

The evidence of his arousal strained against his pants. He didn’t even look startled to see me standing there. Not a flicker of guilt, not a twitch of shame. He simply tucked the photograph out of sight, straightened, and faced me—expression calm, posture impeccable.

Like I hadn’t just caught him worshipping her in the dark.

I should’ve lunged for his throat. Should’ve ended it right there.

Instead, I smiled.

“Need a hand finishing that?” My voice dripped honey, every syllable lined with venom.

His gaze stayed steady. Empty. Professional. “That won’t be necessary, Young Miss,” he said evenly. “It’s a private affair.”

Of course it was.

Still Young Miss. As if I weren’t the woman who’d shared a home with him for years. As if he hadn’t sworn to protect me with his life. But then came her—Elowen, with her angel’s smile and poison-sweet scent—and suddenly, everything else vanished.

I turned away, forcing my wolf to heel even as fury trembled through me. I’d spent years begging to be chosen. That ended now.

Let Elowen play the darling bloom. I’d be the venom in its roots.

He broke the silence first. “What are you doing here?”

I gave him a thin smile. “Nothing,” I lied, voice smooth as glass. “But you’ll be accompanying me to the fashion gala tomorrow. Elowen will be there.”

A faint twitch rippled through him at her name. Barely visible—but I saw it. I always did.

The next night, he waited for me at the base of the stairs, dressed in black trimmed with silver. Hair neat, posture rigid, eyes unreadable.

For the first time in years, I walked past him without a word.

His expression faltered—just slightly—but I caught the flicker.

The drive was silent. Suffocating. The air thick with everything we didn’t say. My wolf prowled inside me, restless, furious. But I kept my face still.

When we arrived at the Limited Edition Fashion Gala, every head turned.

I entered not just as Lyra Solari—daughter of the Solari line—but as the betrothed Luna of the Dravenwood Pack. They didn’t know yet, but soon they would. Even if my future husband lay cursed in eternal sleep, I’d walk as his equal.

Then she arrived.

Elowen. Glowing in pale silk, her smile syrup-sweet and calculated. She approached with a tinkling laugh. “Sister,” she greeted.

I turned sharply, voice cold enough to frost the air. “Don’t call me that.”

Behind me, Kael stiffened. I didn’t need to look to know his eyes had softened for her. They always did.

Then I saw her gown.

A masterpiece—midnight blue melting into silver like the night sky bleeding into dawn. Moonstones scattered across the bodice, the neckline trimmed with delicate wolf-thread lace. It was exquisite.

I hadn’t come for the spectacle or the applause. I came for a single purpose: to claim the perfect dress for my wedding to Alpha Dravenwood. Even if the ceremony lay weeks away, I intended to look every bit the Luna of an ancient, revered pack.

And that dress was mine.

“I’ll take it,” I told the designer.

She smiled apologetically. “It’s one of a kind. We’ve had offers—gold, gems, even blood-oaths.”

“I’ll pay double in gold.”

Then came her voice.

“Oh, I adore this one too,” Elowen cooed, brushing the sleeve with her fingers.

My spine stiffened. “I’ve already claimed it.”

Her lips curved sweetly, but her eyes gleamed. “Surely the designer doesn’t mind a bit of competition.”

Before I could tear into her, a man stepped forward—tall, dark suit, confidence radiating in quiet waves. He gave Kael a brief look before addressing the designer.

“I’ll take the dress,” he said. “Whatever the cost.”

The designer blinked. “And you are?”

He offered a slight bow. “Kaelen. Beta of the Luminara Pack. Our Alpha commands that anything Miss Elowen Solari desires tonight is to be hers—at any price.”

The room erupted in whispers.

“The Luminara Pack?”

“Why her?”

“Has their Alpha chosen her?”

Elowen blinked innocently. “I don’t even know him…” Then turned to me with that saccharine smile. “Lyra, you’re not still bidding, are you? I’d hate for you to empty your vault.”

My nails dug into my palms.

Kael didn’t so much as glance at me. His eyes were fixed entirely on her.

And the evening descended into humiliation.

Each time a new gown appeared, or a jeweled necklace, or a rare moonstone ring—the Beta outbid everyone. Each time, the treasure went to Elowen.

At last, I faced him. “Tell me, does your Alpha intend to leave anything for the rest of us?”

He flicked a glance toward Kael. “Our Alpha only cares for the Second Miss’s happiness. The rest of you are irrelevant.”

The words struck harder than I expected.

Kael smiled—smiled—at Elowen like she was divinity incarnate. I had to fight the urge to bare my teeth.

When the gala ended, Elowen stood amid the glow of admiration, radiant and adored.

I slipped out quietly, invisible again.

I climbed into the car and snapped, “Bloodmoon Club. Now.”

I needed something to burn. Liquor. Music. Anything that drowned thought.

Before the driver could move, Elowen slid in beside me, still smiling. “Sister, I’m coming too! You always know how to have fun.”

I nearly shoved her out. But Kael appeared, hand on the door. “Drive,” he said calmly.

I clenched my jaw.

As the car moved, she filled the air with chatter. “Isn’t it strange? The Alpha of Luminara Pack keeps sending gifts. I’ve never even met him! They say he’s devastatingly handsome.”

Kael chuckled. “That’s because he’s taken a liking to you. You’re… different.”

Then came her coy little question. “Do you like me too, Kael?”

He hesitated, searching for an answer. I didn’t give him the chance.

“If you two plan to flirt,” I said, voice cold as steel, “get out. This is my car.”

Elowen pouted, murmuring a soft “sorry,” all innocence and feigned guilt.

I turned toward the window—and in the reflection, I saw it.

His gaze on her, warm and tender.

Then it shifted to me. Cold. Hollow. Disgusted.

I smiled bitterly. So this was what men wanted—fragile tones, trembling lashes, and the illusion of sweetness.

Nothing like me.

Lyra’s POV

The Bloodmoon Club throbbed with bass and heat—music pounding like a heartbeat gone feral. The air was thick with sweat, perfume, and lust, heavy enough to choke on. I’d drained three glasses of flaming whiskey, but nothing silenced the howl clawing its way up my chest. The room spun in streaks of crimson and silver, but through it all, I only saw them.

Kael. My knight. My ruin.

He stood in the VIP booth, posture rigid, expression unreadable—until she leaned close. Elowen. Her fingers brushed the edge of his jaw as she whispered something in his ear, and I saw it—his ears flushed red. A blush. Genuine.

My glass shattered in my hand.

I swallowed the rest of the burn and stalked toward the dance floor, letting the music devour my fury. My red dress clung to me like armor, a declaration of defiance. Wolves watched. Then they swarmed—young, drunk, entitled. One slid a hand down my hip.

“Back. Off.” My voice dropped to a growl.

They laughed. Another reached for me. I didn’t think—I bared my fangs. But the liquor dulled my reflexes.

“Kael!” I shouted, my voice slicing through the noise.

The response was instant.

The crowd broke apart as Kael approached, his aura flaring—raw, commanding, the kind that made lesser wolves instinctively bow. The boys scattered, terror lacing their drunken bravado.

“Oh, you do remember me,” I sneered, fury overriding any hint of gratitude. “For a moment, I thought you’d forgotten your actual duty. Or were you waiting for your real Luna to summon you first?”

His eyes darkened. “I didn’t see them—”

“No,” I cut him off, stepping close enough that he could feel my breath. “You didn’t want to.” I could smell Elowen’s scent on him, faint but undeniable. “You saw her. That’s all you ever see.”

He looked away, jaw tight. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

“Good,” I laughed bitterly. “It helps me think clearly.”

He said nothing, and I might’ve struck him then—but the air split with a scream.

Chaos detonated.

A shriek tore through the club, followed by panic and bloodlust. Wolves shifted mid-step, bones cracking, claws shredding fabric. Fangs gleamed. The scent of metal filled the air.

Vampires.

I caught a blur of movement—too fast, too deliberate. Kael shifted in an instant, his wolf a towering silver-gray streak cutting through the chaos. But not toward me.

Toward her.

Always her.

I turned, claws sliding free, just as a vampire lunged from the side. I caught his face with a swipe, tearing skin, but he was faster—stronger. His fangs sank deep into my shoulder.

The pain was incandescent. Poison burned through my veins like molten fire. I screamed, slamming my claws into him again and again until he released me, hissing before vanishing into the fray.

My knees hit the floor.

The club was a warzone—wolves clashing with vampires, blood slicking the floor beneath strobing lights. Through the haze, I saw Kael—his wolf tearing through three attackers to shield Elowen, his body between her and every strike.

Of course.

My vision blurred. My wolf surged, eyes glowing—something pulsing strange and wild beneath my skin. Then darkness swallowed me whole.

---

I woke to sterile light. The faint hum of machinery. Antiseptic in the air.

My shoulder throbbed. Bandaged. Mended. Alive.

Alive?

Vampire venom was a curse—it paralyzed, corrupted, dragged wolves into the same endless sleep that had claimed Alpha Thoren Dravenwood. So why wasn’t I fading? Why was I awake?

Before I could move, I heard them.

Through the glass wall, their silhouettes were unmistakable. Elowen—crying softly in his arms. Kael holding her like something fragile and sacred. His hand smoothed her hair, his voice gentle, soothing—the voice I’d never once heard directed at me.

“I shouldn’t have gone,” she whispered. “It’s my fault Lyra got hurt.”

“No,” he murmured. “You didn’t know. I should’ve protected you both.”

Her tearful eyes lifted to him. “Why… why did you protect me? Why not her?”

His voice broke. “Because… I lo—”

The crash was deafening. The vase by my bed shattered against the floor, glass skittering everywhere.

Kael’s head snapped toward me. Elowen gasped and rushed in.

“Lyra!” she cried, voice trembling, tears trembling on her lashes. “You’re awake! Oh, thank the Goddess, I—”

“Save it.” My voice came out a blade. “With you here, cluttering my air, how could I possibly heal?”

Her lip quivered. She ran from the room sobbing. Kael stayed.

“I didn’t have time—” he started.

“You had time for her,” I bit out. “You always do.”

He said nothing. The silence was worse than words.

---

Two days later, I walked into the study. Shoulder bandaged. Anger sharp enough to cut through bone.

He stood at attention.

“Kneel.”

Kael hesitated, then obeyed. Slowly.

“You failed your oath as my knight,” I said quietly. “You know the law—failure is repaid in blood.”

He didn’t flinch. “I know.”

“But I won’t kill you,” I continued. “Death’s too merciful. A punishment fits better, don’t you think?”

He looked up briefly, eyes weary but resolute. “If that’s what it takes.”

A laugh tore from my throat—bitter, hollow. “You’ll endure anything for her, won’t you?”

He didn’t deny it. He didn’t have to.

My claws slid free.

And just as I raised my hand—

“Stop!”

Elowen burst into the room, tears streaming, throwing herself between us. “Punish me! He did nothing wrong!”

“Move, Elowen.”

“No!”

Kael tried to pull her aside, but she clung to him, trembling.

“I said move!” I roared, fury spilling over.

She didn’t. And my wolf snapped.

My claws cut through the air before I could stop them. The scent of blood followed.

Elowen screamed, crumpling, her arms slashed open.

Kael caught her as she fell, his growl shaking the floor. His gaze lifted—cold, sharp, murderous.

He looked at me like I was something unholy.

Then he carried her out, wordless. The door slammed behind them.

And I stood there—claws dripping red, the pain in my hand nothing compared to the wound blooming in my chest.

Lyra’s POV

Three days.

That’s how long it had been since Elowen took the punishment meant for Kael—punishment I’d meant to carve into his skin, not hers. But she’d thrown herself between us, and now the memory still echoed in my head like a curse.

My own wound from that vampire’s bite had closed far too quickly. Too clean. Too unnatural. Wolves heal fast, yes—but not like this. Not overnight. Not when the venom that struck me was the same one said to have sent Alpha Thoren Dravenwood into his endless sleep.

Something inside me had changed.

I hadn’t told anyone. Not my father. Not my pack. Not even my wolf, though lately she felt like a stranger anyway—restless, pacing, her voice muffled behind static.

So I drove.

The Moon Monastery loomed against a steel-gray sky, its spires jagged as teeth. A cold wind curled around the cliffs, carrying the scent of pine and sage... and something else. Something spoiled.

Decay.

“Child.”

The voice rasped out of nowhere. I spun around.

An old woman stood just beyond the gates, cloaked in ash-colored robes. Her face was hidden, but her eyes gleamed like molten silver beneath the hood. Her scent wasn’t wolf. Nor human. Nor vampire. It was… wrong.

“Beware,” she whispered, her cold hand closing around mine. “You are light, but the dark has tasted you now. It will not stop until it devours you whole.”

I pulled my hand free, pulse quickening. “Who are you?”

Her mouth twitched. “The one who remembers what you’ve forgotten. Beware, daughter of moonsilver. The shadows know your scent.”

Before I could press her further, she turned and melted into the forest mist.

Uneasy, I shook it off and climbed the monastery steps. The heavy doors loomed ahead, carved with the sigils of the Moon Priesthood. I reached for the iron handle—

—and something slammed into the back of my head.

Darkness swallowed everything.

When I came to, ropes bit into my wrists, my body hanging between pain and numbness. My blindfold stank of iron and dirt, and the air pulsed with a rank mix of sweat and musk—wolf musk.

Claws tore through my skin. Again. Again. Again.

Each strike burned like fire. Ninety-nine lashes—each one peeling away more than flesh. It stripped my pride, my power, my wolf.

“You shouldn’t have punished her,” a gravelly voice said. “She’s precious. You angered the wrong man.”

“Wh—who are you…” My throat bled with every word.

He didn’t answer. Just pulled out his phone.

“She’s done,” he muttered.

And then came the voice from the other end of the line—low, familiar, steady. [Leave her there.]

Even through static and pain, I knew it. Kael.

My wolf knight. The man sworn to protect me.

He’d ordered this.

By the time they dumped me on the roadside, I was barely conscious, skin flayed and blood slicking the asphalt beneath me. But I crawled. Half-shifted. Flagged down a cab. The driver screamed when he saw me—half-wolf, half-woman—but I growled, “Drive. Hospital.”

The emergency ward reeked of antiseptic and fear. I lay on a gurney, staring at the flickering ceiling lights, listening to the nurses whisper.

“Did you see him? The man who brought that girl in—gorgeous. Never left her side.”

“And that other one? Torn up bad. Looked like a rogue attack. Poor thing.”

My fingers clenched around the IV line until I yanked it free.

I knew who they were talking about.

I staggered into the corridor, ignoring the pain that split my shoulder open again. And there they were. Kael. Elowen.

He was holding her hand. Stroking her hair. Whispering softly like she was something fragile and holy.

I turned away before either of them noticed me and walked out into the night, the cold biting harder than the wounds on my skin.

The next morning, Kael came to my room. He didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, his face unreadable, eyes shadowed. Guilt? No. Not guilt. Pity.

I said nothing. I didn’t trust my voice not to break—or to kill.

Then my phone rang. My father’s number lit up the screen like a curse.

“You will attend the art banquet tonight,” he ordered. “Elowen’s exhibit. The council will be present.”

“No.” The word fell flat. I hadn’t painted in years. Not since Elowen destroyed that part of me.

Back when we were both students, art was my whole world—until she accused me of stealing her work. She framed me, and everyone believed her. I quit painting after that. I never held a brush again.

“You will,” my father snapped.

Before I could hang up, Kael spoke. “It’s for Elowen’s exhibit?” He hesitated, then added, “Just go. Please.”

For him, not for me.

Still, I went.

The Luna Gallery shimmered beneath a glass dome, moonlight spilling across marble floors. Elowen stood at the center, draped in a white gown like some celestial idol, glowing in the adoration around her.

I stayed in the corner, crimson dress clinging to my bruises like war paint. No one spoke to me. No one dared. I was the ghost sister—the scandal no one wanted to acknowledge.

Elowen smiled sweetly, voice pitched for sympathy. “Such a shame the Dravenwood Alpha still sleeps. I deserve a man of power, not one trapped in dreams.”

The guests laughed politely, oblivious.

My chest tightened. Soon, that “sleeping Alpha” would be mine to wed.

Then my gaze drifted to the canvases on the wall—and my blood ran cold.

They were mine.

Not replicas. Not copies. My original paintings—the ones I’d hidden in the attic years ago. Every brushstroke, every flawed edge, every shadow. Mine.

She’d stolen them. All of them.

My claws itched to tear through silk and skin. I was already stepping forward when the hall doors burst open.

Kael’s Beta strode in, carrying gifts—designer tools, moonstone brushes, gemstones, and embroidered gowns. All for Elowen.

Applause rose like a wave. I felt like I was drowning beneath it.

I stumbled out to the balcony, the cool air slicing through the haze of fury.

Moments later, she followed.

“Still breathing?” she asked sweetly. “Pity your mother isn’t.”

My vision went white. “Elowen—”

Before I could finish, she gasped, threw her wine down her dress, and screamed.

“Lyra! How could you?!”

I froze. People rushed out, gasping. And then Kael was there—his gaze sharp, his voice cold.

“Enough!”

Something inside me cracked. I smiled—a dead, bitter thing—and poured my own drink over her, splattering red wine down her face.

“That’s for mocking my mother, you venomous thief.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd as I turned and walked away, my heels striking like gunfire.

Kael caught up, gripping my arm. “Why do you always attack her?”

“You want to know why?” My voice trembled with rage. “She killed my mother. She framed me. She stole everything—my art, my name, and now you. And still, you defend her.”

He frowned, disbelief flickering. “You’re lying.”

I laughed. “Of course you’d think that.”

I tore my arm free. “Take your loyalty, Kael. I’m done fighting for scraps.”

That night, I saw their car leaving together. I should’ve ignored it. But I didn’t.

“Follow them,” I told the cab driver.

They stopped at the butterfly garden—Elowen’s fantasy playground, the place she said she’d want to be marked.

Through the window, I saw it all.

She rose on her toes, eyes glowing gold, and sank her teeth into Kael’s neck. Not playfully. Possessively. Claiming him.

And he let her.

He didn’t resist. He tilted his head, shivering as the bond sealed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

But she didn’t let him mark her back.

Instead, he touched the fresh wound, smeared the blood with his thumb, and smiled faintly.

“I’m yours,” he whispered.