(Lyra's POV)
The palace was quiet, but not peaceful.
Omegas moved through the corridors in pairs, trays in their hands, heads bowed. The servants' whispers faded beneath the distant clang of metal from the Alpha's training yard. Lyra's stomach twisted, not from hunger, but from anticipation she refused to name.
She had trained before dawn, in secret, in a forgotten wing. Every strike, every roll, every tense muscle was her shield. She was ready. She thought she was ready.
And yet, nothing could prepare her for what awaited her now.
A sealed parchment rested on the table where omegas gathered for morning assignments. Lyra noticed it first, not because anyone pointed it out, but because the air around it seemed heavier, charged.
The attendant, an older woman with thin lips and sharper eyes, cleared her throat. "Omegas," she said, voice brittle. "Your morning assignments will differ from your usual stations. Please see the schedule."
Lyra's gaze fell on the parchment. Her name was listed with a new location: Alpha Wing, upper corridor, delivery and cleaning duties, effective immediately.
Her pulse skipped.
Aria, standing beside her, leaned in. "Lyra… this wing… you don't belong there," she whispered.
Finn frowned from across the room. "It's dangerous. You'll be too close to him."
Lyra swallowed. "I'm not afraid."
Aria's eyes narrowed. "That's not bravery. That's..... " She hesitated, glancing at the parchment. "Just… be careful."
Lyra folded her jaw, gripping the tray in her hands. She had no choice. Compliance was not weakness, refusal was impossible.
She moved through the quiet corridors, her tray balanced carefully. Every step measured. Every breath controlled.
The palace seemed unusually large. The upper corridors were empty at this hour, echoing with the faintest hint of polished stone and lingering incense.
And with each step, her wolf stirred uneasily beneath her skin. She felt it before she understood: the Alpha's presence.
Too close. Too much. Warning.
She shook her head, telling herself it was paranoia. He's not here. Calm down. Focus.
Her fingers tightened around the tray. Her heart beat a steady rhythm she forced herself to follow.
Lyra's mind ran through every story she had ever heard about Alpha territory: omegas disappearing, punished, claimed. She reminded herself that she wasn't powerless. She had training. She had skill.
But skill didn't dull instinct. And instinct told her she was being watched.
She glanced down the corridor and froze. Not because she saw him, but because she felt him. The pressure in her chest, the low hum under her skin, the faint tug in the center of her being.
Something was coming. Something inevitable.
She breathed shallowly. I don't belong to anyone, she whispered to herself. Not yet. Not ever.
She reached the midpoint of the upper corridor. One final step, one final turn, and she would walk straight into the Alpha's orbit.
Her fingers shook, but she didn't falter.
Because this was no longer just an assignment.
It was the beginning of a war she had no choice but to fight.
She didn't know she was walking straight into him.