Lyra woke up to the smell of woodsmoke and a silence so thick it felt like a physical weight. Her body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. Every muscle throbbed, and her skin felt tight, like she'd been scrubbed raw with sand.
She didn't open her eyes. She couldn't. Instead, she let her senses drift. Underneath her, the mattress was soft, too soft for a rogue. The sheets smelled like clean linen and that same heavy, cedarwood scent she'd caught in the woods.
Memory hit her like a bucket of ice water. The clearing. Silas's golden eyes turned to stone. Elara's smirk. The way her father looked at the ground while her life was set on fire.
"You're awake."
The voice wasn't a question. It was a rumble that started somewhere deep in the room and vibrated right through the bed frame.
Lyra's eyes snapped open.
The room was massive, built of dark stone and heavy timber. Tall windows let in the grey light of a storm that was still raging outside. And sitting in a high-backed chair near the hearth was the man from the forest. Logan.
He wasn't wearing the fur cloak now. Just a simple black shirt that looked like it was struggling to hold back the sheer mass of his shoulders. He was staring straight ahead, those milky, clouded eyes fixed on nothing, yet Lyra felt like he was seeing every secret she'd ever kept.
"Where am I?" she rasped. Her throat felt like it was lined with glass.
"Iron Fang," Logan said. He stood up, and Lyra instinctively scrambled back against the headboard. He was terrifyingly tall. "You're in the heart of the fortress. My private quarters."
"Why?" Lyra gripped the blankets, her knuckles white. "You should have left me to the wolves. Your warriors... they said I was the enemy."
Logan walked toward her. He didn't stumble. He didn't feel for furniture. He moved with a predatory grace that made her heart race. He stopped just inches from the bed, his head tilting slightly as he took a deep breath.
"My wolf doesn't think you're the enemy," he murmured. He reached out, his hand moving with a slow, deliberate heat until his fingers grazed the side of her neck, right where a mate's mark should have been.
Lyra flinched, but he didn't pull away. His thumb traced the bare skin where Silas had refused to bite.
"The Silver Claw Alpha is a fool," Logan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "He rejected a treasure because he couldn't see the fire beneath the ice. But I can feel it. Even without eyes, I can feel the power rolling off you in waves."
"I don't have power," Lyra whispered, her eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall. "They called me a mistake. They said my wolf was dead."
"They lied," Logan snapped. He leaned down, his face so close she could feel the heat of his breath. "They've been feeding you poison, girl. My healers found the wolfsbane in your blood. It's been sitting there for years, choking your spirit. But it's clearing now. And when it's gone? You won't just be a wolf. You'll be a storm."
He straightened up, his expression hardening back into that mask of stone. "I have a proposal for you, Lyra of Silver Claw. I'm a man with a curse and a pack that's looking for any reason to call me weak. You're a woman with a grudge and a bloodline that was stolen from her."
He turned his blind gaze toward the window. "Marry me. Become the Luna of Iron Fang. I'll give you the crown they took from you, and in return, you'll be the anchor that keeps my wolf from tearing this world apart."
Lyra stared at him. It was madness. He was the enemy. He was the Blind King. But as she looked at him, she didn't see a monster. She saw a man who was just as lonely and betrayed as she was.
"And Silas?" she asked, her voice finally finding its edge. "What happens to him?"
Logan's lips curled into a dark, beautiful smile. "I'll give you his head on a silver plate if that's what you want. But I think you'd prefer to watch him crawl while you sit on a throne he can never touch."
Lyra took a breath, the scent of cedarwood and iron filling her lungs. The girl who had begged for Silas's love was dead. She'd died in the mud at the border.
"Yes," she said, her voice steady. "I'll do it."
Logan didn't answer immediately.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the storm outside, rain slamming against the tall windows, thunder rolling across the mountains like distant war drums.
Lyra expected him to laugh. Or call her foolish. Maybe even take the offer back.
Instead, Logan went very still.
His head tilted slightly, those pale, sightless eyes fixed somewhere near her face as if he were studying something only he could sense.
"Say it again," he said quietly.
Lyra frowned. "What?"
"Your answer."
A strange tension filled the room. Something sharp. Electric.
Lyra straightened despite the ache still gripping her body.
"Yes," she repeated. "I'll marry you."
The moment the words left her mouth, something shifted.
Logan inhaled sharply.
Not like a man surprised but like a wolf catching a scent it had been hunting for years.
His hand moved suddenly, gripping the wooden bedpost beside her head. The thick timber cracked under the pressure of his fingers.
Lyra jumped.
"What—"
"Quiet." His voice dropped into a low growl.
He wasn't speaking to her.
He was speaking to something inside himself.
For a moment his jaw tightened, muscles in his neck flexing as if he were wrestling with an invisible enemy.
Then slowly, painfully slowly, he released the bedpost.
The broken wood splintered onto the floor.
"My wolf…" he muttered, almost to himself. "He likes your answer far too much."
Lyra blinked.
"That's… bad?"
Logan let out a dark huff of laughter.
"Not for you." He turned slightly toward the hearth, his expression thoughtful now. "But it will make things… complicated."
"Complicated how?"
Logan faced her again.
"The Iron Fang pack already thinks I'm cursed." His voice hardened. "A blind Alpha is already a problem. A blind Alpha who suddenly drags home a rogue girl and declares her his Luna?"
He paused.
"They'll see weakness."
Lyra felt something cold settle in her chest.
"And what happens when they challenge you?"
Logan's smile returned.
Slow.
Dangerous.
"Then," he said softly, "they'll learn why the Blind King is the last Alpha they should ever try to test