I turned my eyes back to the council. “The rogues aren’t just growing. They’re preparing. They’re smart. They’re fast. And they’re angry. They know we’ve underestimated them. They know you’re old and slow and stuck in tradition. That’s why they’re taking Omegas, they know your weak spot. They know what makes you panic.” One man coughed. Another cleared his throat. One finally looked ashamed. “They’re going after your legacies,” I said. “Your daughters. Your future breeders. They’re turning your bloodline into weapons. And if we don’t stop them now, they’ll make a pack bigger and darker than anything we’ve seen in our history. And this council?” I scoffed. “This council won’t survive it.” I looked up at Damon again, and this time I saw it—pure fucking pride shining in his eyes like moonlight on a blade. “So yeah,” I said, licking my bottom lip slowly. “I know a few things.” He leaned in behind me, low, close, one hand resting on the back of my chair like he wanted to cage
~Lyra~ Damon leaned forward now, resting both hands on the edge of the blood-splattered table, and looked them dead in the eye. “The rogue problem,” he said, as if the past fifteen minutes of chaos hadn’t happened. “You’ve all been ignoring it. Hoping it would fade. Hoping the weaker packs would get slaughtered before the rogues made it to your doorstep.” He scanned their faces. Not a flinch. Not a blink. Cowards. He looked around the table, his gaze slicing through every old man like a blade. “You think they’re just angry exiles with no plan? Wrong. They’re building something. And from the way your border packs are going quiet? I’d say they’re almost ready.” Some of the men stiffened. I could feel it, panic trying to rise in their throats like bile, but too afraid to come out. No one wanted to admit what we all knew. They’d ignored it. They’d ignored the signs. The missing scouts. The torn patrol gear. The howls that sounded too human in the woods at night. The stench
No. No no no. What was happening? “You’re right about everything,” he continued, turning his head just slightly toward the man but keeping his body facing mine. “She does scream. She does beg. She likes it when I use my teeth. You want to hear what she sounded like against that locker? You want to know how she looked when I pulled her hair and made her say please?” My knees almost buckled. I couldn’t process it. Couldn’t understand. My mouth went dry. My throat closed. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream at him to stop—to stop fucking agreeing with the man who just suggested gang-raping me in the goddamn Alpha Council room. “Bet she’d let us all take her right now if you asked nice,” the old fucker added, grinning so wide I could see every yellow tooth in his rotting mouth. “Hell, I’ll take the first ride. Spread her on the table, slap that ass a few times. I’ll lick her nipples, bite down a little, make her cry for real Alpha cock.” And then—then—he reached out. He
~Lyra~ The old man or whatever the fuck his name was—didn’t stop with one comment. He didn’t make one nasty remark and shut the hell up like a man with survival instincts. No. He kept talking. “Look at her,” he sneered, gesturing with one hand like he was pointing out a buffet item. “Look at the way her tits bounce when she breathes. You sure she’s eighteen? Because fuck me, that body says porn star, not politician.” I stiffened. My fingers curled so hard my nails dug into my palms. My stomach flipped. My jaw tightened. I didn’t look at Damon yet. I couldn’t. Because surely, surely he was about to shut this bastard down. But no. The man went on. “She’s got the kind of mouth you grip the back of her head for. I mean damn. All that attitude? That heat? That mouth? You don’t crown bitches like her. You fuck them. You tie them up. You make them scream until their voice is gone.” The blood in my ears was rushing so loud I could barely hear the rest, but I didn’t have t
The laughter stopped. Like stopped stopped. Like the air itself went holy fuck we’re not ready for this kind of silence. Like the walls leaned in to hear the next word because even they didn’t want to miss what might come next. But I wasn’t finished. Oh no. I was still boiling. And since these disrespectful, rotting bags of superiority had clearly decided to pretend like I wasn’t in the room, I did the only thing I could do. I spoke. “Hi.” Just that. Sweet. Calm. Dripping in venom and a voice that made Damon smirk immediately. I stepped forward. Like the floor was mine and they were just lucky I hadn’t pissed on it yet to mark territory. “Let me introduce myself, since clearly none of you know how to ask politely,” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder even though my scalp still stung from how hard Damon had gripped it earlier while telling me to take his knot like a good girl. “My name is Lyra. I’m eighteen. I’m legal, I’m claimed, and I’m fucking drenched in the
~Lyra~ Do you know what it feels like to walk into a room full of the most powerful, ancient, snarling, superiority-complex-having Alphas in the fucking country with dried cum on your inner thighs, a limp in your step, and your heart still echoing the last time he called you kitten? I’ll tell you. It feels like stepping into a holy place while still reeking of sin. Like crashing a funeral covered in glitter and orgasms. Like flipping off a room full of priests while wearing nothing but lace. And the worst part? Or maybe the best, depending on how messed up you are inside? I loved it. I was high. Not on drugs, not on alcohol—on power. On heat. On sex. On Damon. The council room was colder than I expected. Maybe because the windows were shut, or maybe because they all looked like they’d rather die than have an Omega in their presence unless she was serving tea or getting fucked to make heirs. And yet there I was, walking in like the floor belonged to me. Twelve chairs. T