Chapter 3

We had a very long dinner at the territory's finest restaurant, The Hunter's Feast.

Lyra sat across from me, her movements terrifyingly practiced as she cut into her roasted venison steak.

She even ordered the pack's most famous liquor—Warrior's Mead. The server looked at her as if she were a monster.

"Pups can't drink this," the server said respectfully but firmly.

"It's for my mom," Lyra replied without batting an eye. "She needs it."

When the mead arrived, Lyra poured me a full glass. The amber liquid shimmered under the candlelight.

"Mom, drink. When was the last time you drank for fun?"

I thought about it but couldn't remember. It was probably at my marking ceremony when I exchanged a glass of wine with Kael.

Kael had said I wasn't built for alcohol and told me not to drink again. So, I never did.

I raised the glass and took a sip. The mead was spicy yet sweet. A wave of warmth rushed straight to my chest, nearly bringing tears to my eyes.

Lyra looked at me and suddenly asked, "Mom, do you remember the first time I shifted when I was three years old?"

"Yes, I remember."

"That day, Dad promised he'd stay with me. He said he'd guide me and protect me from being consumed by the pain. But then he said something urgent came up in the pack."

She cut into her venison steak, the knife and fork clinking softly against the wooden plate. "You held me alone. When I screamed as my bones broke during the shift, you warmed me with your own body.

"I bit your arm in my delirium, but you only held me tighter. After the ritual, you carried my weakened body on your back and walked half a mile into the woods to find moonlight herbs for healing. On the way home, I fell asleep on your shoulder, and your arm hurt for a week."

I remembered it all.

That day, Kael never showed up. He said there was an important border negotiation and he couldn't get away.

He didn't come home until late at night, carrying the scent of wildflowers that didn't belong to our forest.

When I confronted him, he told me I was overthinking it, that it was from the Alpha Female of the opposing pack.

"At that time," Lyra said, placing a piece of venison in her mouth and chewing slowly, "I thought to myself, when I grow up, I will never let you feel this lonely again."

She swallowed and looked up at me. "But by the time I grew up, you were already gone."

In the restaurant, werewolves laughed loudly, young mates fed each other, and strong warriors arm-wrestled. Only our table remained quiet, as if holding a farewell ceremony.

Lyra set down her knife and fork. "Mom, reject him."

I stayed silent.

"Take what you deserve—assets from the pack house, income from the territory, weapons from the armory. He's the Alpha and owns all this, but you're his lawful mate, so you're entitled to half of it."

As she spoke, Lyra's gaze was as calm as if she were assessing the gains and losses of a battle. "I know you're soft-hearted, but this time, don't be. In your last life, you were too kind, asking for nothing but custody of Finn and me.

"And what happened? He even skimped on the monthly prey meant for us."

I looked at her, a five-year-old pup with a soul of a twenty-five-year-old.

"How do you know all this?" I asked.

"I read your diary," she replied. "After you died, I found a small wooden box hidden in the deepest layer beneath your bed. The sealing runes on it were all cracked. Inside, there were many records—everything from the marking ceremony all the way up to the day your wolf withered away."

Lyra paused, her voice growing softer. "The last page read 'My greatest regret in this life is that I gave everything to others and kept nothing for myself."

My hands were trembling. Lyra saw it and reached over to hold them.

"Mom, this time it's different," she said, gripping them tightly. "This time, I'm here. I know what excuses he'll use, what the Council will say, how to gather evidence, and how to appeal to the Moon Goddess for justice. Trust me just this once, okay?"

I looked at her for a long, long time before replying, "Alright."

Lyra smiled, her eyes crinkling. Finally, she looked like a five-year-old pup again.