Lyka
The tray rattled in my hands as I pushed the door open with my shoulder. "Iza?" I called softly. "We need to talk—"
Everything stopped.
Pine and iron filled my lungs first — Parker. Then my eyes found them: my sister in my mate's arms, his head bent to hers, her fingers trailing across his chest. On the bed.
The tray slipped from my hands and shattered on the floor. Hot tea splashed across my boots. The wolves outside gave a long, low howl that echoed through the walls.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Only the storm rolling in behind me, clouds swallowing the moon.
"I trusted you," I said. My voice broke halfway through. "And you chose her. My own sister."
Parker flinched but didn't let go of her. "Lyka—"
"Don't." My hands shook. "You're bound to me by fate and still—" My throat closed. "Still you touch her."
Iza's smirk was a knife. "Maybe fate picked the wrong sister."
Her words hit harder than the shattered glass at my feet. All at once I was eight again, reaching for a doll she'd snatched, watching her flash the same smug smile. Boys at school, toys, dresses — if she wanted something, she took it. I had laughed it off then. Not this.
My palm went to my belly. The baby stirred like a tiny warning. "I came here to tell you about our child," I said. "About our future."
Rain splattered the window. Another howl rolled through the woods. Parker's eyes darted between me and Iza, guilt flickering like lightning but never striking.
"I didn't plan this," he muttered, voice low. "I tried—"
"You tried?" The words ripped out of me. "You're an Alpha. You don't 'try.' You choose. And you chose her." I took a step forward, trembling but steady. "Do you know what that makes me?"
Parker's jaw clenched. His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to break away, but Iza's nails grazed his wrist and held him still.
"Tell her, Parker," Iza purred. "Tell her what you've been thinking."
My laugh was sharp and raw. "Since when did you start thinking for him, Iza? Or is this just another toy you stole because you couldn't stand to see me happy?"
The wind shoved at the window, rattling the frame. The scent of wet earth and fur drifted in — wolves gathering. My wolf stirred under my skin, claws pressing for release.
Parker's eyes met mine. There it was — the flicker of something that didn't belong in this room. Regret. Pull. Whatever the bond was, it hummed like a live wire between us.
"You're supposed to protect me," I whispered. "And our child. That's what all of this meant. The mark. The Goddess. Us."
Iza laughed, but there was a crack in it this time. "Maybe he doesn't want protecting."
"Stop," Parker said quietly, but he didn't move. His silence screamed louder than her words.
I stepped closer until I could see my reflection in his eyes. "If you have even a shred of honor left, look at me and say you don't feel it. Say you don't know who I am to you."
His mouth opened, closed. He couldn't.
Another howl split the air. My nails dug crescents into my palms. For a heartbeat, everything — the wolves, the rain, the baby, my heart — beat in unison.
"I came here to tell you I was carrying your child," I said again, louder, clearer, letting each word hit like a stone. "And now I see exactly who you are."
Iza shifted under the weight of my stare, her smirk faltering. Parker's shoulders sagged as though the packhouse itself had pressed down on him.
I turned toward the door. "You've made your bed," I said softly. "Now stay in it."
The storm outside had broken fully; wind and rain lashed my face as I stepped out. My wolf clawed at my chest, grief and rage tangling until my vision blurred. I didn't cry loud. The tears slid silent and hot down my cheeks, mingling with the rain.
Behind me, I heard Parker call my name, but the door slammed before it could reach me. The wolves howled again — a chorus of judgment — and the packhouse lights flickered like a dying pulse.
I walked into the storm, one hand on my belly. I didn't know what came next, but I knew one thing: nothing would ever be the same again.
The forest swallowed me whole, rain stinging my skin like needles. Every breath burned, my lungs aching with salt and iron. My wolf clawed at my ribs, begging to break free, to run until there was nothing left but the wind.
I stumbled through the mud, fingers clutching my belly, a low growl rumbling up my throat. "You're safe," I whispered to the life inside me. "I won't let them take you from me."
Behind me, the cabin door slammed open. His scent hit me before his voice did—pine, rain, and him. My mate. My betrayer.
"Lyka!" Parker's shout cut through the storm, raw and jagged. "Wait—"
I didn't. I broke into a run, feet hammering the earth, my wolf breaking free with a strangled cry. My body blurred, fur ripping through skin, claws tearing into the mud. The world sharpened into scents and sounds and rage.
He was after me immediately. I heard the snap of his bones, the shift of his form, the snarl of his beast. He was faster, bigger, the Alpha born to dominate.
But tonight, I wasn't running for him. I was running from him.
The trees blurred around me. Lightning slashed the sky. Wolves from the outer patrol barked and scattered as the two of us tore through the forest like a storm with teeth.
"Lyka!" His voice boomed inside my head now, the mate-bond linking us even in this form. Stop. Please.
I pushed harder, every muscle screaming, the baby a fierce weight inside me. You lost the right to ask me anything, I hurled back through the bond. Stay away.
His growl rolled through the night. I won't let you go like this.
I spun on him in the clearing, mud spraying beneath my paws. My wolf crouched low, ears flat, lips peeled back from my teeth. The storm roared around us, thunder cracking like the Moon Goddess herself was watching.
He stopped a few paces away, his massive black wolf bristling, eyes glowing with something between pain and hunger. You're mine, his voice thundered through the bond. You always will be.
You made your choice, I snapped. My fur bristled, the mark on my neck burning where his teeth had once claimed me. You broke us.
He shifted back first, kneeling naked in the mud, rain streaming down his body, chest heaving. His eyes—still Parker's eyes, gray as the storm—never left me.
"Shift back," he begged aloud, voice breaking. "Don't shut me out like this. Let me explain."
My wolf trembled, torn between tearing him apart and curling into his arms. But the memory of Iza's hands on his skin sliced through the bond like a blade.
I shifted just enough to speak, crouching low, mud clinging to my skin. "Explain?" My voice cracked like thunder. "You touched my sister. You let her touch you. And you think words will fix it?"
He crawled closer, palms open, rain dripping from his lashes. "I didn't choose her," he said again, hoarse. "I lost control. I hate myself for it. But you're my mate. Nothing changes that. Nothing."
I bared my teeth, a sound between a sob and a growl. "Everything has changed."
For a moment, neither of us moved. The rain, the forest, the pack—all held its breath.
Then I turned, my claws sinking deep into the earth. "Stay away from me, Parker," I whispered. "If you ever loved me, stay away."
His face twisted, like the words physically struck him, but he didn't stop me as I bolted into the trees again.
This time, he didn't follow.