POV: Damian The pack was in a state of chaos. The dueling grounds were a bloody mess, the scent of death still lingering in the air like a sickness. Kyle’s fake body had been dragged away, but the memory of the duel, of my brutal victory, was still fresh in the minds of the pack. I was the Alpha now, but I was an Alpha in name only. The pack was divided, and the cold, unyielding resentment of Kyle’s men was a tangible force. My father, Alpha Dominic, was a ghost. He was nowhere to be found, a silent specter in a pack house that was now my own. I had no idea where he had gone, but I knew he was out there somewhere, a snake in the grass, waiting for his chance to strike. The thought of him, a constant threat, was a low hum of anxiety beneath my skin. My rage, a cold, hard stone in my chest, was a constant companion. It was all I had left. I had lost Lyra. She had been taken from me, stolen by a man who had faked his own death and a woman who had betrayed me. The thought of her, wi
POV: Lyra’s POV The gilded cage of Kyle’s pack house was a strange kind of freedom. I was a prisoner again, but this time, the bars were made of velvet and the chains were spun from gold. Kyle’s kindness was a suffocating blanket, a constant reminder of all I had been through and all that I had lost. He treated me like a queen, and in his eyes, I saw a raw, unyielding love. But my heart was a tangled mess of emotions—grief for the man I thought I had lost, fear for the man who had claimed me, and a simmering, resentful anger for the way my life had been ripped from my control. The days passed in a blur of forced comfort and quiet despair. Kyle was a patient man. He didn't push me for answers, didn't demand my affection. He simply waited, his presence a constant, reassuring weight in the background of my life. He’d bring me flowers, tell me stories of his childhood, and show me the wonders of his pack. He would sit with me for hours, saying nothing at all, just his presence a silen
Damian’s POV The safe house smelled of damp stone and old wood. My men sat scattered around the room, nursing wounds in silence. I kept my eyes on Damien as he leaned against the wall, his arms folded, studying me like he was deciding how much truth I could handle. “You going to start talking,” I said, my voice low, “or did you drag us here just to watch us bleed out?” His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You always were impatient.” He pushed off the wall, his steps slow as he crossed the room. “I didn’t just stop that fight because I felt nostalgic. You needed to hear this before you make your next move.” I straightened in my seat, my claws itching under my skin. “Then spit it out.” He stopped in front of me, his eyes narrowing. “Alpha Dominic. Your father. He’s not the man you think he is.” I felt my chest tighten, but I kept my expression hard. “Be careful with what you’re implying, Damien.” “Oh, I’m past implying.” His voice carried an edge, but his
Damian’s POVThe smell of blood was sharp in the air, mixing with the stench of sweat and dirt. My chest burned as I tore my claws free from the wolf I had just gutted. I barely had time to catch my breath before another rogue lunged at me. His snarl was loud in my ears, but I caught his throat mid-strike and twisted, sending him crashing to the ground. I knew we were losing—there were too many of them. My men fought hard, but the dirt beneath us was already slick with crimson.A heavy weight slammed into me from the side, knocking me off balance. My claws scraped the ground, my vision blurring for a moment. When it cleared, I found myself pinned, the rogue’s teeth bared inches from my neck. I fought to push him off, but another wolf landed behind me, forcing me down. I growled, straining, ready to tear my way free even if it meant losing half my flesh—until a deep voice cut through the chaos.“That’s enough.”The command was sharp. It made even the bloodthirstiest rogue freeze mid-at
Damian’s POV The rage was a fire in my veins, a consuming inferno that burned away everything else. I stormed back into the pack, the cheers of my false victory still ringing in my ears, mocking me. The whispers had already begun. The truth, ugly and raw, had spread like wildfire: Kyle’s death was a lie, and Lyra was gone. My father, Alpha Dominic, met me at the entrance to my chambers. His face was a mask of grave concern, but I saw through it. This was a political disaster for him, a public humiliation. He tried to lay a consoling hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off. His concern was as fake as his son's death. “Damian,” he began, his voice low and heavy. “We must be careful. We can’t just charge into their territory.” “Careful?” I snarled, the word a bitter taste in my mouth. “He made a fool of me, Father! He took what was mine! Lyra is my mate, my Luna. I will not let him get away with this.” “She is not your Luna yet,” he said, his voice hardening. “The ceremony was no
Lyra’s POV He was alive. He wasn't broken, and he wasn't dead. He just stood there, looking at me with a knowing glint in his eyes. He knelt down to me and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. It’s all part of the plan.” "How?" I choked out, tears finally streaming down my face. "What is this? How are you alive? He only smiled, a genuine, joyful smile that I hadn’t seen since before the fight. It was a smile that told me he had this planned all along, a calculated deception that had fooled everyone. I was afraid, but Kyle had told me not to be. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and relief, but his calm presence was a lifeline. He explained that he needed everyone to believe he was dead. It was the only way to end the confrontation, the constant threat of war. When I asked him how they hadn't figured it out, how no one had noticed, he just smirked. "I paid a doppelgänger," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Turns out, there are plenty of men as handsome as