Chapter 2 - Lyra's POV

A tall, sharp man stood by the door. He had broad shoulders, and was dressed in black. His dark eyes fixed on me, and his jaw tightened like he hated what he saw.

“Grayson Storme.” My father muttered, bowing his head.

The echo of his name sent a chill to my spine. It slid like slime.

It was the Beta of Alpha Aiden. Who didn’t know him?. The Alpha’s shadow, his blade.

His gaze swept over me slowly, and then his lip curled. “So, you’re Lyra Nightshade. The clumsy little Omega who can’t stay on her feet.”

Heat rushed into my cheeks. My fingers twisted into my skirt, “I…”

“Save your excuses,” he said flatly. “The Alpha doesn’t care for them.”

My cheeks burned with heat and I bit my lip slightly.

 He reached into his coat and pulled out a black scroll sealed with scarlet red wax. “By order of Alpha Aiden, you are hereby commanded to attend the royal mating ball tonight.”

I blinked, “Me?”

The royal mating ball? And I’m invited? No, that can’t be right.

“Am I…” I swallowed. “Am I serving food…or something?”

He kissed his teeth and face formed into a look of disgust. “It seems you’re so accustomed to a life of servitude.”

His words jabbed my heart.

“Have this.” He shoved the scroll into my hands. He scanned me from head to toe, “And find something decent to wear. Don’t embarrass the Alpha further.”

Before I could say another word, he turned around and left, his steps leaving a trail behind him.

The silence left behind felt heavier than his presence. I unrolled the scroll, and my name stared back at me in bold silver ink, stamped with the Alpha’s seal. Lyra Nightshade.

Why me?

“You heard him. Get something decent to wear and don’t embarrass the Alpha or this family further.” My father’s voice dragged.

“Yes, father.” My voice, low.

I rushed to my room. Opening all the bags that I had, searching for something decent. 

By nightfall, I was dressed in the only thing I owned that could be considered a gown. It was simple, pale blue, worn from years of being folded in a trunk. I brushed the dirt from my skin, combed my hair until it fell smooth, and tied a ribbon at the side. My hands trembled the whole time.

The carriage arrived with two guards at its sides. Their eyes barely flicked toward me, like I was already beneath their notice. I climbed in, clutching the skirt in my fists.

The ride was silent but my heart thudded…no, it pounded, like a drum.

Moon Goddess, guide me.

I was here.

The Mating Ceremony.

The pack’s ballroom was brighter than the moon itself. The chandeliers dripped light over polished floors, and music curled through the air like silk.

The room glittered with crystal lamps and banners, light bouncing off every surface until it almost blinded me. It felt like stepping into another world.

The wolves were adorned in gowns and sharp suits. The sounds of whispers filled the air.

I swallowed.

And then the whispers shifted.

“She doesn’t belong here.”

“An Omega? At the mating ball?”

“Maybe she’s a servant.”

“What is she doing here?”

My cheeks burned. I wanted to run and hide under the tables, but I forced myself to walk further.

The Moon Goddess would guide me. I was safe. I was not cursed. I echoed in my head.

I kept walking.

“Well, well, well,” a voice said from behind me.

Zylia… and her little sidekicks.

My stomach twisted by the drag of her voice.

“You look a little bit presentable tonight,” her eyes narrowed, looking at me from head to toe.

“Th…thank you,” I muttered

“She’s said thank you,” her minions laughed.

They were mocking me, not complimenting me. Why would I even think they were complimenting me?

Zylia was arrayed in midnight silk. Her skin dripped under the beam of light.

Then the music faded. And a hush spread across the room.

The grand doors opened with a heavy thud.

He walked in. Tall. Broad. Dark.

Alpha Aiden.

His very name seems to echo in the air. It was heavy and commanding.

His aura rolled through the room like a storm. My knees nearly gave out under the weight of it. 

Everyone bowed their heads. No one dared to look at him.

I stood frozen. My breath caught.

I bowed…maybe too late or maybe too fast. I just didn’t want to get into trouble.

The chandeliers caught in his black hair, throwing glints of light that made him look sharper. Too sharp.

The priestess stepped forward, white robes glowing in the firelight. She lifted her arms.

“Wolves of the Howlborne Pack,” her voice rang clear. “We gather tonight under the Moon’s blessing. Tonight, the Alpha will choose his fated mate.”

The wolves gasped, excitement filling the air.

And one by one, noble daughters stepped forward into the light. Their gowns gleamed under the chandelier. Their heads stood up high, and they had proud smiles drawn on their faces.

At the front, Zylia stood elegantly. She gleamed like she already wore the crown. Her smile was bright and certain. Her gaze was locked on the Alpha.

He moved. Slow, steady steps. His boots clicked softly against the floor. His gaze studied each girl in silence.

One.

Two.

Three.

None chosen.

The crowd stirred in confusion.

“Why hasn’t he stopped?” someone whispered.

“He’s saving it for Zylia,” another hissed back.

But he passed her too.

Zylia’s smile faded for a little bit. Her eyes furrowed into confusion. But she tilted her chin higher, waiting, certain he would turn back.

 But he didn’t.

His steps slowed.

His gaze lifted, not at the line of daughters, but across the room.

His eyes searched until they found me.

On me.

The air fled my lungs.

“He’s looking at… her?” a woman whispered.

“No. Impossible.”

I shrank back, but his stare held me in a chokehold.

The Alpha stepped out of the line.

Everyone in the hall gasped as the Alpha walked past the noble daughters.

Each step echoed like thunder, too loud, too heavy.

“Not her,” I whispered, shaking my head. My chest ached with the pounding of my heart.

But he didn’t stop there.

He stopped in front of me.

The hall fell silent, the kind of silence that pressed on your skin and made your heartbeat sound too loud, like even that was a crime.

I trembled under the weight of his aura. His presence pressed against my skin, made it hard to breathe.

His eyes locked on mine, dark and unreadable.

He spoke. His voice was low, steady, and it rolled through the hall like a decree.

“Lyra Nightshade,” he said.

My breath caught.

The crowd gasped.

“You are my fated mate…”