The Unclaimed quarters had always smelled like neglect, cold stone, damp linen, and the faint bitterness of wolves who had learned not to hope.
Lyra felt it the moment she crossed the threshold.
Her wolf stirred uneasily beneath her skin, pacing, claws scraping at her ribs. The air was wrong. Too quiet. Too still.
Unclaimed omegas rarely slept deeply. They learned early to stay half-awake, listening for danger. Yet tonight, the corridors lay unnaturally silent.
Lyra slowed her steps.
This wasn't fear.
This was instinct.
She reached the third corridor when the first scream shattered the quiet.
It was sharp. Raw. Cut off too quickly.
Lyra ran.
The torchlight flickered wildly as she turned the corner, and froze.
Blood streaked the stone floor. Not splattered. Dragged.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"No," she whispered.
Another scream echoed, closer this time. A female voice, young, terrified.
Lyra moved before thinking.
She sprinted down the corridor, skirts gathered in her hands, ignoring the burn in her lungs, ignoring the voice screaming in her head that she was unarmed, unguarded, and very much an omega.
The door at the end of the hall was ajar.
Inside...
Chaos.
Two omegas lay crumpled against the wall, unmoving. Another struggled weakly as a cloaked figure dragged her by the arm, his grip brutal, impatient.
Lyra's wolf surged.
"Let her go!"
The man turned, startled. His hood slipped just enough for Lyra to see the sneer curling his lips.
"Another one?" he said softly. "They really are careless with you."
The omega in his grip sobbed.
Lyra stepped forward, heart pounding, fear burning, but she didn't stop.
"Leave," she said, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "You won't walk out of here."
The man laughed.
"You think the palace cares what happens to the Unclaimed?" he asked. "You're all expendable."
Something inside Lyra snapped.
Her wolf surged forward, raw and furious, the bond, that cursed bond, igniting like wildfire in her chest.
The air changed.
The attacker stiffened.
"What... "
Lyra didn't wait.
She slammed into him, all instinct and desperation, driving her shoulder into his chest. He stumbled, shocked more than hurt, but it was enough.
"Run!" Lyra shouted to the omega.
The girl scrambled away, sobbing, disappearing down the corridor.
The man recovered quickly. Too quickly.
He struck Lyra across the face.
White exploded behind her eyes. She hit the wall hard, breath leaving her lungs in a sharp gasp.
Pain bloomed but so did something else.
Rage.
Her wolf roared.
The bond flared violently, heat flooding her veins, pulling, calling.
The man took a step back, suddenly wary.
"What are you?" he muttered.
Before Lyra could answer..
The palace shook.
A thunderous growl tore through the corridor, ancient and furious, vibrating through bone and stone alike.
The attacker paled.
"No," he breathed. "Impossible... "
The Alpha hit him like a storm.
One moment the corridor was empty. The next, the Alpha stood between Lyra and her attacker, eyes blazing silver, power rolling off him in suffocating waves.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The man turned to run.
He didn't make it three steps.
The Alpha grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack stone.
"Who sent you," the Alpha said quietly.
The man choked, claws scraping uselessly at the Alpha's arm.
The Alpha's gaze flicked, just once, to Lyra.
She was bleeding.
Something dark crossed his face.
The man screamed.
By the time guards flooded the corridor, it was over.
The attacker lay unconscious, broken, barely breathing.
The Unclaimed quarters were no longer silent.
Cries echoed. Wolves gathered. Whispers spread like wildfire.
Lyra sat against the wall, shaking, blood warm on her lip, heart still racing.
The Alpha turned to her slowly.
Up close, his control was gone. His hands trembled. His wolf pressed dangerously close to the surface.
"You were injured," he said.
Not a question.
"I'm fine," Lyra replied automatically.
He crouched in front of her before she could move away.
His fingers hovered near her face, didn't touch.
The bond throbbed between them, loud, undeniable, furious.
"You should never have been here," he said, voice low, tight.
"And they shouldn't have attacked us," Lyra shot back, meeting his gaze. "But they did."
The Alpha stared at her.
Not like an omega.
Like a threat.
Like something dangerous and powerful he had underestimated.
Around them, the palace buzzed with panic and fear.
But in that moment, there were only two truths:
The Unclaimed had been attacked.
And the palace now knew Lyra was no longer invisible.