Night fell too quickly.
Lyra stood by the tall window in her chamber, staring out at the dark forest beyond the palace walls. The moon hung high in the sky, full and bright—but it brought her no comfort.
Only silence.
Only thoughts she couldn't escape.
Selene's voice echoed in her mind.
"He rejected you."
Her chest tightened.
Lyra pressed her hand against the glass, her reflection staring back at her—beautiful, dressed like a queen…
…but still unwanted.
Still alone.
A soft knock broke the silence.
Lyra turned. "Enter."
A maid stepped inside, bowing slightly.
"Your Grace," she said, her voice polite but distant. "Your evening meal."
Lyra nodded faintly.
"Leave it there."
The maid placed the tray on the small table and quickly left, as if eager to escape the room.
Lyra sighed.
Even the servants treated her like something temporary.
She walked over slowly and sat down, staring at the food.
She wasn't hungry.
But she hadn't eaten all day.
Her fingers hesitated before picking up the cup of wine.
Just one sip, she thought.
Maybe it would quiet the storm in her chest.
She lifted it to her lips—
—and paused.
A strange scent hit her senses.
Faint.
Bitter.
Wrong.
Lyra frowned.
Her wolf stirred uneasily inside her.
Something wasn't right.
Slowly, she lowered the cup.
Her gaze sharpened.
"Poison…" she whispered.
A cold chill ran down her spine.
Before she could react—
The lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Lyra froze.
Her heart slammed violently against her chest.
The air shifted.
Someone was inside.
She felt it.
Heard it.
A soft movement behind her.
Too close.
Instinct took over.
Lyra spun around—
A blade flashed in the darkness.
She gasped, barely dodging as the knife sliced through the air where her neck had been.
Her breath came out in sharp bursts as she stumbled back.
A shadow moved toward her.
Silent.
Deadly.
No hesitation.
No warning.
Just kill.
Lyra's mind raced.
Move. Think. Survive.
The attacker lunged again.
This time, the blade grazed her arm.
Pain exploded through her skin.
She cried out, falling back against the table.
The tray crashed to the floor.
Glass shattered.
The sound echoed—
But no one came.
Of course not.
No one would help her.
Not here.
Not like this.
The assassin advanced again.
Lyra's chest tightened as panic threatened to take over—
No.
She wouldn't die like this.
Not after everything.
Her hand searched blindly behind her—
And found a broken piece of glass.
The attacker lunged.
Lyra reacted instantly—
She swung.
The glass sliced across the attacker's arm.
A grunt.
A step back.
For the first time—
Hesitation.
Lyra didn't waste it.
She ran.
Straight for the door.
Her fingers barely touched the handle—
Before a strong force slammed into her from behind.
She hit the ground hard, the air knocked from her lungs.
Pain shot through her body.
The knife pressed against her throat.
Cold.
Deadly.
Final.
"Too weak," a low voice muttered.
Lyra's vision blurred.
So this was it.
After everything…
She was going to die.
Her eyes burned—
Not with tears this time.
But with rage.
No.
She refused.
With the last of her strength, she twisted her body—
The blade cut slightly into her skin—
But she didn't stop.
She kicked back, hitting the attacker just enough to loosen his grip.
It was enough.
Just enough.
"HELP—!"
The door burst open.
A powerful force filled the room instantly.
Dominant.
Terrifying.
Unmistakable.
The attacker froze.
Lyra felt it too.
That presence.
That power.
Kael.
The Alpha King stood at the doorway, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.
Danger radiated from him like a storm ready to destroy everything.
"What," he said slowly, his voice deadly calm, "do you think you're doing?"
The assassin reacted instantly.
He lunged at Lyra—
But he never reached her.
Kael moved faster than she could see.
One second he was at the door—
The next—
He was there.
His hand wrapped around the attacker's throat, lifting him off the ground effortlessly.
The room seemed to shake under the force of his anger.
"You dared," Kael said, his voice low and terrifying, "to touch what belongs to me?"
Lyra's breath caught.
The words echoed in her mind.
Belongs to me.
Before she could process it—
A sickening crack filled the room.
The attacker's body went limp.
Dead.
Just like that.
Kael dropped him to the floor like he was nothing.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
Lyra pushed herself up slowly, her arm throbbing, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Kael turned to her.
His gaze scanned her quickly—
The cut on her arm.
The blood.
The mark on her neck.
Something dark flashed in his eyes.
Something dangerous.
"You're bleeding," he said.
Lyra let out a shaky breath.
"I noticed."
He stepped closer.
Too close.
His hand reached out—
And before she could react—
His fingers brushed against her arm.
Lyra flinched.
The contact sent a strange spark through her body.
Warm.
Sharp.
Confusing.
"Stay still," he said.
His voice was quieter now.
But no less commanding.
She didn't argue.
Didn't move.
As his fingers gently examined the wound, Lyra felt her heartbeat quicken again.
Not from fear this time.
Something else.
Something she didn't want to feel.
"You almost died," he said.
The words were low.
Controlled.
But there was something beneath them.
Something she couldn't name.
"I didn't," she replied softly.
His eyes lifted to meet hers.
"And why is that?"
A pause.
Then—
"Because I fought."
Silence.
Then something shifted.
Something subtle.
But real.
"Good," Kael said quietly.
The word surprised her.
Before she could respond—
His hand moved again, this time resting briefly against her cheek.
Lyra froze.
Her breath caught.
The touch was… gentle.
Too gentle.
For someone like him.
For a moment—
The world disappeared.
No palace.
No enemies.
No pain.
Just him.
And her.
And something dangerous building between them.
Then—
He pulled away.
Just like always.
The moment shattered.
"You'll be guarded from now on," he said, his voice back to its usual cold tone.
Lyra blinked.
"Why?"
He looked at her.
And for once—
His answer wasn't cold.
"Because," he said, "someone wants you dead."
A pause.
Then, more quietly—
"And I won't allow it."
Her heart skipped.
Again.