The forest was darker than she remembered.
Every shadow whispered secrets. Every rustle of leaves carried the scent of fear.
Lyra moved like mist between the trees — barefoot, silent, invisible under the silver watch of the moon. The night air hummed with a strange rhythm that matched the pulse in her veins. Her senses were sharper now: the beat of a bird's wings miles away, the vibration of roots beneath her feet, the faint metallic tang of approaching wolves.
They were close.
She crouched behind an oak, her new instincts coiling inside her chest. Her wolf was awake, and she could feel its hunger. Not for blood — for justice.
Voices echoed through the woods.
"Spread out! The Alpha wants her found before sunrise!"
It was Marcus, one of Kian's enforcers — the same man who had dragged her through the mud on the night of her rejection.
Lyra's fingers tightened around a branch. The memory flickered like fire — Marcus laughing as she begged for mercy, pushing her beyond the border while the pack watched.
Now the tables had turned.
She closed her eyes. Her hearing sharpened. Marcus's scent — pine and steel — filled her lungs. The world slowed. She moved.
In one heartbeat, she was behind him.
In the next, her hand shot out, gripping his throat.
Marcus froze, eyes wide. "Wh–what the—?"
Lyra stepped into the moonlight. Her silver eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the terror on his face.
"Looking for me?" she whispered.
He struggled, claws forming at his fingertips, but her grip tightened effortlessly. His wolf whimpered inside him.
"L–Lyra?" His voice cracked. "You're supposed to be dead!"
A faint smile curved her lips. "You all made sure of that. Pity you didn't check properly."
Marcus's breathing grew frantic. "Please, I was only following orders—"
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Then let me give you a new one."
Her eyes flared bright silver. A pulse of energy rippled outward, and Marcus's body froze as invisible force coiled around him. The magic was wild but obedient — the witch's gift Selene had spoken of.
"Run back to your Alpha," she said coldly. "Tell him the mate he rejected still breathes."
Then, with a flick of her hand, she released him. Marcus collapsed, gasping, before scrambling to his feet and vanishing into the trees.
Lyra exhaled slowly. Her body trembled with power — and exhaustion. Using the magic felt like setting her blood on fire. But beneath the pain was a dark thrill. She was no longer the helpless girl they mocked.
The wind shifted.
A new scent reached her — stronger, deeper, intoxicating.
Her heart faltered.
Kian.
Even from miles away, his scent hit her like lightning. Leather, pine, and something darkly magnetic. The bond may have been severed, but its echo still whispered through her blood.
For a moment, she almost forgot the hatred. The betrayal. The pain.
Then her wolf growled softly inside her.
Not yet.
She straightened, staring toward the distant lights of the Crescent Moon Pack's territory.
"Enjoy your throne while you can, Alpha," she murmured. "Your kingdom will soon know what it means to lose everything."
The forest fell silent. The moon glowed brighter, as if listening.
Then a howl rose in the distance — not from the pack. From her.
Powerful. Defiant.
And far away, in his mansion, Kian Blackwood woke from sleep, heart pounding, knowing that voice.
Knowing it was impossible.
Yet certain it was hers.