Six months later
The forest was quieter than usual.
Lyra moved through the trees with the stealth of a shadow, her cloak trailing behind her and her senses sharpened to a fine edge. Every twig snap, every distant rustle sent her heart hammering—not out of fear, but instinct. She had learned the hard way that silence in the wild often came before the storm.
Moonlight poured between the branches, painting her path in shades of silver and sorrow. It was a full moon again. The sixth since she had been rejected.
And still, the memory of it burned.
She had replayed that night over and over—his face, the way his voice sliced through her, the pain of her wolf screaming as the bond shattered. She had begged herself to forget.
But you don't forget your fated mate. Not when he tears your soul apart.
Lyra paused, placing her palm on a nearby tree. The bark was damp with mist, pulsing faintly beneath her hand. The forest here felt alive—older than memory, thick with secrets. She breathed it in. The magic. The quiet power humming beneath her feet.
This place had saved her. Had reborn her.
Six months ago, she would've been too weak to hunt, let alone fight. Now, she moved like a predator. A creature reborn in fire and fury.
She didn't know what she was yet. Not fully. But she knew she wasn't just wolf anymore.
Not after what happened.
"Stop dragging your feet," Ronan's voice called from behind her, cool and clipped as ever.
She turned just enough to shoot him a glare. "I'm tracking. You want me to trip into a trap?"
He emerged from the brush with the same infuriating grace he always carried, dark hair tousled, dressed in black leathers with a long dagger strapped to his thigh. "I want you to stop hesitating. You can't outrun him forever."
Lyra's spine stiffened. "I'm not running."
Ronan arched a brow. "Then why are we two days from Obsidian Fang territory and still circling like vultures?"
Because returning meant facing him.
And she wasn't sure what she'd do when she saw him again.
Kade.
Her body still reacted to his name—her pulse, her breath, the ache in her chest that felt like it had never fully healed. Despite everything he did. Despite the rejection. Despite the pain.
Somewhere deep in her soul, her wolf still remembered him.
She hated that.
Lyra turned and kept walking. "We're not ready."
"We're never going to be ready if you keep avoiding the truth."
"I'm not avoiding—"
"You are," he said, his tone sharper now. "You've trained. You've awakened magic most wolves only dream about. But the longer you stall, the more people die. He doesn't even know what you've become. And that, Lyra, is your greatest advantage."
She clenched her jaw. He was right. He usually was. And it pissed her off every time.
Kade didn't know the truth. About her powers. About the prophecy. About what she had become when he rejected her and fate snapped in half.
He thought she had disappeared into the wild to die.
He had no idea that she was coming back to bury him.
But still… every step closer to her old home felt like a stone in her throat.
"Let's move," she said.
They reached the ridge by midnight.
Below, nestled between the trees and cliffs, the Obsidian Fang Pack compound stretched in cold lines of stone and iron. The main hall flickered with torchlight, guarded by sentries posted on high towers. Wolves patrolled in formation, their steps mechanical. The place looked the same—and yet it felt colder. Harsher.
Like something had shifted in the pack's heart.
Lyra crouched behind the rocks and stared down, memories washing over her in waves: laughing in the kitchens with Mira, learning to track in the old pine woods, sitting at the edge of the cliff dreaming of Kade's hand in hers.
All of it gone.
She gripped the stone until her knuckles turned white.
Ronan crouched beside her. "There's movement near the east wing."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "That's the war room."
The last time she'd stood in that room, it was to be announced as the future Luna. She had worn white. Her heart had been full of foolish hope.
Now? She wanted to burn it to the ground.
Suddenly, a howl split the air.
Not just any howl—his.
Her entire body tensed.
Kade.
Her wolf lunged inside her, claws dragging against her skin, demanding release. She shoved it down.
"I need to see him," she whispered.
Ronan didn't object. For once.
They moved under cover of darkness, cloaking their scent with ash and wolfsbane. Lyra could feel the magic humming in her blood, her footsteps silent, her presence vanishing between shadows. Ronan had taught her well.
But she had brought something into this forest that even he hadn't touched.
Raw power.
It stirred beneath her skin now as they slipped through the trees, reaching the edge of the eastern wing. Lyra spotted an open window, just high enough to reach with a bit of effort. Ronan gave her a boost, and she slithered through into the darkness.
The war room was empty.
But it smelled of him.
Her breath caught.
Then she heard it—footsteps. Fast. Angry. Getting closer.
Ronan gestured from outside. "Get out."
But she didn't move.
The door burst open.
And there he was.
Kade.
Her heart stuttered. He looked the same—no, rougher. His dark hair longer, his jaw sharper, his golden eyes like fire beneath storm clouds. He smelled like cedar and storm and everything she'd tried to forget.
He froze the moment he saw her.
"Lyra?"
The word cracked from his mouth like thunder.
And then his eyes darkened—not in fury. In confusion. Longing.
She stepped forward before she could stop herself.
"Why are you here?" he demanded, his voice hoarse.
"You don't get to ask that."
"I thought you were dead."
She stared at him, trying to read past the wall he always wore. "Is that what you wanted?"
His jaw clenched. "You don't understand—"
"No, you don't," she snapped, and her magic flared before she could rein it in. Sparks danced at her fingertips, the air trembling between them.
Kade's eyes widened. "What the hell are you?"
"I don't know," she whispered, "but I'm not yours."
He stepped toward her. Her body trembled.
And then—a scream.
Not from outside.
From inside the compound.
Kade turned, every muscle in his body going rigid. "That was Celine."
Her blood ran cold.
Celine.
The name stirred old memories—long claws, red lips, and jealousy that burned hotter than fire.
"She's here?" Lyra asked.
"She never left," Kade growled. "She's been—wait."
He turned back toward her, stepping forward, eyes blazing.
"You walked right into a trap."
"What?"
"She knows you're here."
And then the entire war room exploded in light as the windows shattered and a voice rang out from the dark—
"Well, well. Look who crawled out of the ashes."
Celine.
Standing in the doorway, flanked by wolves cloaked in blood-red armor.
Lyra's heart stopped.
"Time to finish what we started, sweetheart," Celine purred.
And then she lunged.