Lucian's POV
The stack of quarterly financial reports felt like lead in my hand, they were a necessary distraction.
I had to focus on the pack, on the future, on anything but the gnawing, confusing emptiness that had settled in my chest since the ceremony.
Lyra was my mate.
I had accepted the bond. It felt good, right—like a warm, comfortable blanket of commitment. It was quiet, steady, and exactly what my pack needed: a strong, stable foundation.
The bond felt like a duty. I was Lucian Vale, Alpha-in-training.
The physical sensation that had erupted when my hand closed over hers was the problem.
It had been strong, yes, but it was nothing compared to the violent, soul-scorching recognition that had fired through me the night before, in that anonymous hotel room, with that nameless, terrified woman.
That encounter had been a lightning strike; the bond with Lyra was sunlight. Both were real, but only one had left me scorched and irrevocably changed.
I was heading from my father's study, where I'd been trying to absorb the sheer weight of the Vale legacy, toward the main planning room.
The post-ceremony meeting was mandatory, yet my father, Alpha Rowan Vale, was conspicuously late.
A sudden, 'urgent' mission, Helena claimed. My mother, Helena, had called this immediate meeting—her way of consolidating power in my father's absence, I knew.
She was exploiting the political void, and it only intensified my existing suspicion. I had papers, important papers, my mind how ever, was stuck in a dangerous, distracting loop.
The air shifted, subtle yet undeniable, the way it does when a scent you've been denying finally cuts through the static.
There she was— halfway down the hall, a small, dark figure in simple gray, moving with that familiar, nervous purpose.
Aria Hale. Lyra's mother. The omega with the haunted eyes.
My body reacted before I could even think.
The papers dropped from my hand—a loud, useless thud—as I was focused entirely on her.
Why was she here, in the heart of the Main Lodge, so early?
She should be resting in the common tents, not walking these quiet, private halls where only high-ranking pack members dared tread.
"Aria," I whispered, the name a statement of truth, not a question.
She froze.
That instant, deer-in-headlights paralysis was what I'd woken up to in the bar. It was the same overwhelming fear I'd smelled on her in the hotel room.
It made my wolf snarl, low and possessive, a reaction that was utterly inappropriate for my future mother-in-law.
She tried to put up a wall of formality. "Alpha Lucian. I—I was asked to report to Luna Helena."
Helena. The word was a slap. My mother. Of course. She was already inserting her influence, pulling at the thread of the woman who held the secret that could destroy my destiny.
The fear in Aria's scent amplified, laced with something new—the metallic tang of obedience.
Closing the distance between, her scent—faint woodsmoke and a unique, bruised sweetness—was so intoxicating, the only thing that felt truly clean in this house of political maneuvering.
"Don't," I commanded, my voice rougher than I intended. "Don't call me that. Not here. Not to me."
She tried to argue, mentioning Lyra, mentioning the mating. I cut her off. The bond with Lyra was real, yes, but the fire I felt radiating off Aria was a primal truth that superseded any parchment scroll.
I reached out. I couldn't stop myself. My thumb found the faint, almost invisible patch of discoloration on her neck—the scar of a rejection mark. I knew what it was. I had seen enough broken wolves.
Seeing it on her felt like a burning personal offense.
"I felt the bond with Lyra," I confessed, forcing the words out. It was a half-truth, but necessary.
"It was familiar. It felt like commitment." I paused, letting my thumb linger on her delicate skin. "It didn't feel like the mark you burned off my chest."
My blood was still roaring from the physical memory of that night. When she rejected my mark in the bar—or rather, when her body rejected my bond—it felt like ripping my soul out. It had been agonizing, violent, primal. It was a rejection that marked her as broken, but marked me as truly, fiercely Alpha. It was our moment, the Alpha and the omega, sealed in pain.
I leaned in, desperate for a real answer. "Tell me your name. Your full name. Before my mother turns you into a weapon against yourself."
She broke. I saw the exact moment the polished facade shattered. "Aria Hale. It's Aria Hale."
Aria Hale. The name resonated. Simple. Beautiful. I now knew who she was: Lyra's mother.
The broken, beautiful, rejected omega who had somehow lit a fire inside the future Alpha that his fated mate could only warm.
My mother's warning—don't trust omegas, they are naturally manipulative—screamed in my head.
I felt a powerful, protective urge to pull Aria into my arms and hide her from the entire pack.
Taking control, "Go to the Luna. Be silent. Agree to whatever she says." I said, giving her tactical instructions, not a choice.
"You are gonna coming to me immediately afterwards. You're mine to talk to. Not hers."
Just as I finished the command, a flicker of movement registered at the end of the hall. It wasn't the sound that alerted me, but a sudden, intrusive feeling—a mild, annoying pulse of disapproval bleeding into my awareness.
The feeling was weak, but distinct, the subtle, subconscious bleed of my new, accepted mate bond with Lyra. Lyra wasn't here, yet I felt a brief flash of concern mixed with judgment.
My head snapped up. It wasn't Lyra, but Mrs. Petrov, a kitchen maid, pushing a linen cart. She was older, nearsighted, and harmless. Her eyes, magnified by her thick glasses, lingered on Aria, then on me.
She sighted us.
She saw the Alpha cornering the new Luna's mother. And Lyra, wherever she was, was feeling something unsettling.
The seed of doubt was planted. The maid was a risk. The bond was a risk.
I waited until the maid was gone, the squeak of the cart wheels fading into nothing. I looked back at Aria. Her eyes were wide, terrified. She knew the danger. She knew the secret was now visible to a third party.
"Go," I repeated, my voice now cold, hiding the sudden, vicious need to eliminate the threat of the witness. I had to secure her, contain her, and understand the truth before Helena could turn the screw.
Aria turned and fled toward my mother's study. I watched her go, a low growl barely suppressed in my throat. I bent down to pick up the dropped reports, my hands tight with frustrated rage.
I opened the door to the planning room, but I didn't enter. I stood there, smelling the faint trace of Aria's fear and the metallic tang of my mother's political game.
I pulled out my phone and sent a rapid, coded message to my Beta, Elias Vale.
Elias. Get security log on maid. Tall, heavy lenses. Check hall 4, 07:15. Do not alert mother.
I had given Aria a command, she was currently obeying my mother's command instead. That was unacceptable.
What is Helena doing? She didn't need Aria's help.
She was using her.
Just as I was about to walk into the meeting, a searing, aggressive flare of despair and resignation shot through my new bond with Lyra.
It was so intense it felt like a brief, shocking burn, overriding the usual comfort.
What the hell did my mother just do?
That wave of despair, coming through my mate, was triggered by something in that study. Something Helena had just forced Aria to do.
My wolf screamed, convinced it was a sign of betrayal or danger.
The despair I felt was not Lyra's usual gentle sadness; it was a profound, adult, crushing burden.
It felt wrong. It felt borrowed.
I pulled my hand back from the doorframe handle, my silver eyes narrowed, my whole body tense.
I knew, with the terrifying clarity of an Alpha, that the despair I had just felt was not Lyra's emotion. It was Aria's despair, broadcasting through the confusing, messy conduit that was now connecting the three of us.
My fated bond with Lyra was a lie.
The woman who was my real mate, the one who burned my rejection off, was now carrying a heavy burden imposed by my mother, using the link I had with her daughter.
I had to stop the meeting. I had to know what Helena had forced Aria to agree to.
I slammed the papers back on the floor. I couldn't focus.
I couldn't be Alpha.
I had to find Aria Hale and figure out what my mother had broken.