The packhouse felt heavier than usual, as though the walls themselves were suffused with the weight of Lyra’s grief. She sat on the edge of her bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly at the floor. Her mind replayed Adrian’s exile over and over, her heart twisting with every memory of his face as he walked away.
The knock on her door was quiet, hesitant, but she didn’t move to answer it. The door creaked open anyway, and Cassian stepped inside, his imposing frame filling the room.
“You can’t keep hiding in here,” he said, his voice low but firm.
Lyra’s jaw tightened as she turned her head slightly, glaring at him. “I’m not hiding. I’m grieving. You wouldn’t understand.”
Cassian closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he crossed his arms. His amber eyes held a flicker of something softer beneath the steely determination. “I understand more than you think.”
She rose abruptly, her hands clenching at her sides. “You didn’t have to send him away like that. You didn’t have to make it so final.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “He was leaving on his own.”
Cassian’s jaw flexed as he pushed off the door, stepping closer. “He’s dangerous, Lyra. To you, to this pack.”
Her silver eyes blazed as she spun to face him. “And you’re not? You’re the Alpha. You’re the one who decides who lives and dies. You’re the one who tears apart the people I care about! I thought you were more than this, Cassian. But you’re just a monster.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them, her words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. Cassian’s expression hardened, his wolf bristling under the surface, but he didn’t lash out. Instead, he took a measured step closer, his voice dropping to a low, steady tone.
“And yet this monster is the only thing keeping you alive,” he said, his words cutting through the tension like a knife.
Lyra’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath shallow as she tried to push back the raw emotions clawing at her. “I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t ask for any of it.”
Cassian reached out, his calloused fingers gently tilting her chin up until her eyes met his. “I know you didn’t,” he said, his voice softer now. “But you’re here. And so am I. I’ll protect you, Lyra. Always.”
***
Eryon poured his newfound strength into his training, his movements precise and unrelenting. Each strike of his fists against the sparring dummy echoed through the chamber, the power behind them a testament to his determination. He wasn’t fighting for Seraphine’s cause or Eira’s approval. This was for the future of the child Misery had told him about—their child.
Misery stood quietly at the edge of the room, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched him. She hadn’t told anyone else about the pregnancy, not even Seraphine. The secret weighed heavily on her, but she knew Eryon needed to focus without Seraphine or Eira interfering.
“You’re pushing too hard,” she said softly, stepping forward as he stumbled slightly from an overpowered strike.
“I have to,” Eryon growled, his crimson eyes glowing faintly. “If I can’t keep you and—” He hesitated, glancing toward the shadows where he knew Seraphine or Eira might be listening. “If I can’t keep you safe, then all this power is meaningless.”
Misery reached for his arm, her grip gentle but firm. “You’re already doing enough. More than enough. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
Eryon shook his head, his expression tightening. “I can’t fail, Misery. Not you, not…” His voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought aloud. He couldn’t risk anyone else hearing.
From the far side of the chamber, Eira leaned against a stone column, her sharp gaze fixed on them. “He’s distracted,” she remarked to Seraphine, her tone dripping with disdain. “Too focused on her.”
Seraphine raised an eyebrow but didn’t look away from Eryon’s training. “He’s adjusting. He’ll find balance.”
Eira snorted, stepping closer. “Attachment like that is a weakness, Seraphine. You of all people should know that. If you let him prioritize her over the mission, it’ll cost us.”
Seraphine’s gaze hardened, but she didn’t respond. Misery glanced over her shoulder, her sharp instincts catching the faint movement of Eira’s approach. She straightened, masking her unease with a forced smile.
“I don’t see how his training concerns you,” Misery said pointedly, stepping slightly in front of Eryon as he caught his breath.
Eira’s lips curved into a cold smile, her voice low and dangerous. “Oh, I’d say it concerns me plenty.” She tilted her head, her piercing eyes locking onto Misery. “Careful, Misery. You wouldn’t want to make me question your value.”
Eryon stepped forward, his voice a growl. “Back off, Eira. She’s not your business.”
Eira gave him a mocking smile but didn’t retreat. “Let’s hope you remember that when the time comes to choose, Eryon. You can’t have it all.”
As Eira turned away, Misery released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Eryon placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip steady. “No one will touch you,” he said quietly, his tone promising violence to anyone who tried.