CHAPTER 9

LYRA’S POV

I stood there in the arena, battered and breathless. Blood dripped from the deep cut on my side and arm. I could barely move. My opponent towered towards me. Her eyes, red, burning with cruel satisfaction.

“You failed yet again!” She sneered.

Before I could react, it's body contorted into sickening cracks, muscles ripping apart, bones stretching, saliva dripping, bloodshot eyes, slowly transitioning into a ferocious monster.

I tried to escape but my body felt frozen. The ground beneath me split open, black twigs sprawled upwards, twisting around my legs, dragging me down into darkness.

“No, let me go!” I struggled, trying to break free, but it wouldn't let go. I clawed dirt, trying to get a grip on something but its pull was stronger.

“You are mine.” It growled. Its claws sliced through my face with a swipe as it dragged me into the underworld.

“NO!!!!”

I jolted from my bed, my eyes fluttering as I tried to adjust to the dark surroundings. My breathing was ragged, confusion and fear lingering.

The nightmare was different this time. Not about my parents. Not about my past.

I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the unease curling around my spine. The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the night wind against the window.

Was this about the trial? Was my subconscious trying to tell me something? What if this was the Moon Goddess’s way of telling me to run?

The thought slithered through my mind like poison, wrapping around my already fraying nerves. What if fighting this duel would only lead to my death? Wouldn’t it be smarter to leave before it was too late?

My gaze drifted toward the door. I could escape right now. Slip away into the night, disappear before sunrise. I can survive on my own.

Wait a minute! On second thought!

Where would I go? I had no pack, no allies outside these walls. Running would only make me a rogue. And that is the worst that could happen to me right now. I couldn't even defend myself nor people I loved.

The clock on the nightstand glowed—2:47 AM. There was no way I’d be falling back asleep now. I decided I needed something to calm me down. A warm milk perhaps.

I took off my duvet. Putting my legs down and sliding my feets into my flip-flops, and waltzing made my way into the kitchen, being careful not to disturb anyone.

I had no idea where anything was because I had never been in the kitchen before. Soft overhead lightings dimly lit the kitchen but I could still see how large it was

“I can't imagine being a maid here, because how do they cope with cleaning this island called a kitchen” I muttered under my breath. Well, that wasn't why I was here.

I started with the easiest thing, the fridge. I pulled open the giant double-door beast that hummed softly against the quiet, squinting against its bright light as I scanned through its contents before spotting the milk.

Now where the hell do they keep the cups? I hunted through the cabinets of the kitchen shelves which were slightly higher than I hoped they should be. I had to stand on my toe to reach for it.

I tried the nearest cabinet, only to find stacks of plates. The next one had bowls. The third? Spices. Seriously?

Muttering under my breath, I knelt and yanked open a drawer—finally. Glasses. I poured the milk carefully so, as not to spill anything.

"Can’t sleep?"

My heart leaped out of my chest. I nearly lost balance, using the cabinet as a support as I spun around, nearly dropping the glass of milk.

Jake stood in the doorway, and sweet merciful Moon Goddess, why was he shirtless?

I blinked, trying to be sure I wasn't losing my mind. Nope, it was real.

My eyes involuntarily scanned through his body. The dim lighting did nothing to hide the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles rippling down his abdomen. His hair was slightly tousled. Damn! I might have just discovered my new weakness.

“What were you doing?” He asked. His voice was deep, sultry and husky. I could swear he intentionally growled those words.

“Uh..hh,” I stuttered, turning to the milk on the cabinet. “I couldn't sleep so I decided to have a glass of milk”

As I glanced back at him, he was no longer standing at the entrance. He was walking right towards me. My breath hitched. He stood right in front of me. So close that I could feel his breath on my face.

"Why are you awake?" he asked.

Why am I awake? More like, why are you standing this close while looking like that? Focus, Lyra. Answer the question. Use words.

"I had a nightmare," I managed to say, gripping my glass like it was my last connection to reality.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, voice low.

“Ah…No. It's nothing to worry about”. His gaze dipped slightly, taking in my flushed face. He leaned in closer, and my heart nearly exploded.

I closed my eyes, preparing myself for what might happen next. And then, The fridge door opened.

Huh! I opened my eyes.

Jake grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and took a long sip—completely unaware of the internal meltdown I was having.

I stared at him, speechless.

Jake finally looked at me, his eyebrows slightly raised. "You okay?"

No, I was not okay. I had just mentally prepared for something that never happened and made a fool of myself in my head.

"Yeah. Fine." I took a quick sip of my milk, nearly choking.

“Why are you up so early?” I asked, trying to appear nonchalant as he was.

“I was doing some paperwork. Being an Alpha comes with a truckload of responsibilities you know,” he said.

“Same as being your mate, I guess” I huffed. My expression faded.

“Hey, come on!” He tilted my head up a bit. “ It's ok to be afraid sometimes but you've got this.”

I met his gaze, and for a moment, the world outside this kitchen didn’t exist. There was something about the way he said it, like he saw me, beyond my weakness.

What if he was wrong?

"You always push me so hard," I murmured, breaking eye contact. "Why?"

He stepped closer, closing the distance between us. "Because you’re stronger than you think."

“What if I’m not?” I retorted. “I couldn't protect myself, I couldn't protect my family. I ran away, I failed” My voice began to break.

"You didn’t fail," he said firmly. "You survived. That’s not failure, Lyra. That’s strength."

I let out a bitter chuckle. "Strength? I can’t even do the basic thing werewolves do. Tara has always wanted to break free, to be herself, to hunt, but it's not happening." Maybe I had a birth defect.

Jake sighed, massaging the nape of his neck. "I already called in one of the top trainers for that reason. A few days from now, she will be here. I will, however, train you myself in the meantime"

I blinked at him. “You will?”

"Of course." He responded.

"I will not allow you to enter that arena unprepared. We'll begin by going over the fundamentals of understanding werewolf skills.”

His confidence should have been reassuring, but doubt still clung to me like a second skin. “And what if I can’t do it?” My voice was barely a whisper.

Jake’s gaze softened. He reached out, his fingers brushing against my wrist in a light, grounding touch. “You will, Lyra. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Something in his voice made the fear in my chest loosen just a little. He believed in me. Maybe, I could try to believe in myself too.

A heavy silence settled between us, the warmth of his touch lingering even after he pulled away.

"You should get some rest," he said at last, his voice gentler. "Tomorrow, we begin."

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay."

As Jake took his leave, I stared down at the almost empty glass of milk in my hand, feeling something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.