Found

Lyra’s POV

I knew today was going to be weird the moment I woke up to find Marcus sitting in the chair by my window, just… watching me sleep.

I mumbled into my pillow, "Okay, that's officially creepy, even for you," and opened one eye to glare at him.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” he grinned, completely unbothered by being caught in his stalker behavior. “And for your information, I wasn’t watching you sleep. I was making sure you were still breathing.”

“That’s literally the same thing!”

“No, one is creepy, the other is protective brotherhood.”

I sat up, my hair probably looking like I’d been electrocuted. “There’s a difference?”

“Huge difference. Ask Zane, he’ll explain it to you with charts and graphs.”

Oh, right. Because nothing says ‘normal family dynamic’ like the oldest brother creating PowerPoint presentations about appropriate levels of surveillance.

Let me back up a bit. Seven years ago, I was ten years old, kneeling next to my parents’ bodies after our pack got wiped out in what the adults liked to call a “territorial dispute.” I called it “Tuesday got really, really bad.”

The metallic scent of blood was everywhere, mixing with smoke from our burning homes. I remember touching my mother’s cold face and asking her to wake up, please wake up, because I didn’t know how to work the stove and I was going to starve.

Kids, right? Even in trauma, we worry about the weirdest things.

That’s when they found me, four boys and their father, Alpha Magnus of the Elxra pack. The youngest boy, Kael, who was barely older than me, took one look at my tear-streaked face and announced, “Dad, can we keep her?”

Like I was a stray puppy.

Which, honestly, wasn’t far from the truth.

Alpha Magnus had knelt beside me in all that death and destruction, his voice gentle as he said, “Come with us. You’ll be safe in our pack, as my daughter.”

And now, seven years later, I was definitely safe. Maybe a little too safe, if you asked me.

Present day…

“Lyra! Come on, you’re going to be late for practice!”

Kael’s voice boomed from downstairs, and I swear he sounded like he was announcing the apocalypse instead of dance practice.

“I’m coming!” I yelled back, quickly braiding my hair while hopping on one foot trying to get my boot on. Seventeen years old and I still couldn’t master basic coordination. Fantastic.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, simple blue dress, hair that had finally decided to cooperate, and only a small toothpaste stain on my collar that I chose to ignore. Not bad for someone who’d just been lectured about proper breathing techniques by her overprotective brother.

The main hall was buzzing with excitement when I finally made it downstairs. The annual Mating Ceremony was two weeks away, and every unmated wolf in the pack was preparing. The air thrummed with anticipation, nervous energy, and the sound of people stepping on each other’s feet to the beat of drums.

“Finally,” Darius appeared at my side with that smirk he’d perfected since childhood. “We thought you’d decided to hide in your room until after the ceremony.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I muttered. “And why were you timing me? Do you guys have a stopwatch up there?”

“Actually, ” Kael started to pull something from his pocket.

“Oh my God, you DO have a stopwatch!”

“It’s not a stopwatch,” Zane said, appearing on my other side like some kind of overprotective ninja. “It’s a timer. Totally different.”

“Right here, princess.” Marcus materialized too, clearing a path through the crowd of dancers like he was parting the Red Sea.

I should have been used to it by now, the way they moved around me like I was made of glass and surrounded by invisible bodyguards. The way other pack members automatically stepped aside when the four brothers flanked me, like we were some kind of weird parade.

But sometimes I noticed the looks. The whispered conversations that stopped abruptly when I passed. The way girls my age would glance at my brothers with obvious interest, then look at me like I was the luckiest girl in the world.

If only they knew that “lucky” meant having my shower schedule monitored and my food pre-tasted for poison. Yes, that’s a real thing Marcus does.

“You don’t all have to help me practice,” I said as we reached the cleared space where couples were attempting the intricate steps of the mating dance. And by attempting, I mean mostly failing. Poor Jenny from the kitchens looked like she was having some kind of seizure. “I’m sure you have your own partners to worry about.”

The four of them exchanged one of their looks, the telepathic communication they’d perfected over the years that usually meant trouble for me.

“Actually,” Kael said with a grin that didn’t fool me for a second, “we thought we’d take turns. You know, make sure you’re properly prepared.”

“Translation: make sure no other male gets within a ten-foot radius of me,” I said dryly.

“That’s a completely separate security protocol,” Darius said seriously.

“I’m sorry, SECURITY PROTOCOL?”

“Marcus first,” Zane decided, completely ignoring my existential crisis. “He has the best sense of rhythm.”

“I have great rhythm!” Kael protested.

“You once tripped over your own feet while standing still,” Marcus pointed out.

“That was ONE TIME, and there was a bee!”

As Marcus stepped forward and offered his hand with a theatrical bow, I caught sight of a cute guy from one of the visiting packs watching me with obvious interest. He took a step toward us, smiled, opened his mouth to say something, 

And immediately changed direction when Darius turned to look at him.

I’m not even kidding. The poor guy did a complete 180 and pretended to be very interested in the refreshment table.

“Was that really necessary?” I asked as Marcus’s hand settled on my waist and he spun me into the opening steps of the dance.

“Was what necessary?” Marcus asked with the kind of innocent expression that fooled absolutely no one.

“The death glare Darius just gave that perfectly nice boy.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a death glare,” Marcus said, spinning me again. “That was more of a ‘please reconsider your life choices’ glare. Death glares are much more intense.”

“There’s a SCALE?”

“Of course there’s a scale. Kael made a chart.”

I glanced over at Kael, who gave me a thumbs up and mouthed “color-coded!”

This was my life. Four overprotective brothers who had charts for their intimidation tactics, timers for my daily activities, and apparently a whole security protocol I didn’t even know about.

But you know what? After losing everything once, after being that terrified ten-year-old girl with nowhere to go, I’d learned not to take this ridiculous, overwhelming, absolutely devoted family for granted.

Even if they were completely insane.

“Okay,” I said as the music swelled around us, “but if you guys have actually laminated that chart, we’re having a serious talk.”

Marcus’s grin widened. “Define ‘laminated.’”

“Oh my GOD!”