Chapter 2

LYRA POV:

Three days passed. Lucian never came back. He never sent a single message through the Mind-Link. It was as if the five years we'd shared were nothing more than a dream he'd woken up from.

I stood before the small wooden cabin we had called home, every inch of it a monument to a love that was now a lie. My loyal warriors stood behind me, their faces impassive.

"Burn it," I said, my voice flat.

The captain hesitated. "Future Luna, are you sure?"

"I want every memory in there turned to ash," I commanded, my voice leaving no room for argument. "When I am done, it will be as if this place, and the man who lived in it, never existed."

They bowed their heads and got to work. I didn't stay to watch the flames.

I returned to the Alpha's main estate, a grand stone mansion that felt more like a fortress. My father, Alpha Robert, was still away, finalizing the terms of a treaty with a neighboring pack. His face appeared on the large screen in his office, a video call connecting us across hundreds of miles.

"You look different, Lyra," he said, his golden Alpha eyes studying me with concern. "Colder."

"I've grown up, Father," I replied. "About my condition for the marriage alliance..."

"Yes?"

"I want the Moonstone."

My father's eyebrows shot up. The Moonstone wasn't just jewelry; it was a ring passed down through generations of our pack's Lunas, the ultimate symbol of power and inheritance. For an Alpha's daughter to ask for it before her Mating Ceremony was a bold, almost audacious, declaration of ambition.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Good," he rumbled, a sound of pure pride. "That's my daughter. It's yours. The Silvercrest Pack will be led by you, and the Alpha you choose."

"Thank you, Father."

"He will be there tonight," my father continued. "There is an annual ball at the Moon Temple, a neutral territory for all packs. Your intended, Alpha Silas Vittorine of the Blackmoon Pack, will be in attendance. Make a good impression."

The call ended. I spent hours preparing, choosing a gown of deep crimson that clung to my curves, a stark contrast to the innocent white dresses I used to favor.

When I arrived at the Moon Temple, the grand hall was already buzzing with the mingled scents of werewolves from a dozen different packs. But something was wrong. The center of attention wasn't a visiting Alpha or a pack elder. It was my half-sister, Elara.

She was wearing a pale blue dress, looking every bit the innocent maiden. Then, the music swelled for the opening dance, and Lucian appeared. He strode to Elara, his eyes only for her, and took her hand.

As they moved to the center of the floor, a collective gasp went through the room. They danced, their bodies moving in perfect sync, their scents-his pine and her cloying vanilla-twisting together into an unmistakable statement. It was the scent of two wolves who had been intimately close. It was a public declaration.

Whispers erupted around me.

"Is that the Alpha's other daughter?"

"I heard he favors her. She must be the next Luna of Silvercrest."

"Look at them. They smell like they've already mated."

A hot, bitter humiliation washed over me. I remembered all the times I had begged Lucian to attend these events with me. He had always refused, claiming he was uncomfortable in crowds, that he didn't want to provoke the elders who disapproved of his low birth. He said he wasn't worthy of standing beside me in public.

But here he was, dancing the opening waltz with her, claiming the spotlight he always said he hated. He wasn't unworthy. He just didn't want to be there with me.