LYRA'S OUTBURST

Hours later, I walked back into the estate building and the entire air felt different, heavier even, and expectant, as though everyone already knew something had shifted, and they were waiting to see what I would do next. My heels clicked softly against the marble floors as I walked, I kept my posture straight and my expression unreadable.

When I had walked in the last time, only a couple of people had turned to stare. Now, when I walked in, every single person in the estate turned to face me. Whispers kept on trailing behind me, but I ignored all of it.

I had far more important things to deal with, and almost right on cue,

“Nyssa.”

I didn’t stop walking, but I also didn’t need to turn to know who it was. My mother, Sarah. She was standing near the reception desk this time, her arms were crossed and her expression was both tight and controlled

“Where are you going?” she demanded, her tone low but sharp.

I walked past her without a blink.

“Nyssa.” this time, her voice carried more weight within it. It was a clear warning, still, I refused to stop.

“Kellan,” I called calmly, my gaze landing on the pissed off man who stood just a couple of feet away from my mom, “Take me to the property.”

His jaw tightened immediately. “I’m not your assistant,” he snapped, though there was far less confidence in his voice now.

I tilted my head slightly and met his eyes. “You work here,” I said in a simple tone. “And I just paid for one of your premium properties. I am pretty sure I am obligated to choosing who I want to show me around.” I paused, then let a smirk tug at the corner of my lips,

“Or would you like me to request someone who is far more competent?”

His expression darkened, but he swallowed whatever pride he had left. With a strained smile on his face, he took in a deep breath and gestured stiffly toward the exit.

“…This way.”

I walked past him without another word, behind me, I could feel my mother’s gaze burning into my back.

“Nyssa, we are not done talking.” she called out,

This time I stopped, but it was only for a second, just enough for her to actually believe I was going to turn. Then I kept on walking.

“No,” I said with a flat tone. “We are.”

The drive to the property was very silent. Kellan sat in the passenger seat of my car, and he was stiff and visibly irritated. During the ride, he ad tried to twice to start a conversation, but a single glare from me had shut him up pretty quickly. As we pulled into the gated street where the duplex was located, I reached into my purse, took out my phone and dialed the moving company.

They picked up pretty quickly,

“Good afternoon, ma’am—”

“I want everything in my apartment moved today,” I cut in before they could continue. “Immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am. We can dispatch a truck within the hour and have everything sent to you within the hour—”

“Do it,” I said, then hung up.

Beside me, Kellan let out a small scoff.

“Wow,” he muttered under his breath, “How are you moving out already?”

I didn’t even look at him as I pulled into the parking lot of my new home.

“If you’re going to speak,” I said calmly as I turned off the engine, “then at least try saying something worth hearing.”

I stepped out of the car and smiled. My new home was simply perfect. The duplex had large windows that reflected the afternoon light. It wasn’t an overly flashy, but it carried a quiet kind of elegance, the kind that didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.

Kellan followed reluctantly behind me with the keys in his hand. He walked ahead, unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“This is it,” he said, stepping aside. I walked in and smiled. The space was open, airy, and quiet. Sunlight filtered through the windows, stretching across polished floors and empty walls that were waiting to be filled.

But none of it mattered to me right then, all that did was that this was mine.

I walked through the house slowly, and took everything in, from the kitchen to the living space and the staircase leading up. Every step felt deliberate and grounding.

Behind me, Kellan cleared his throat. “You know,” his voice laced with forced nonchalance, “for someone who just suddenly came into money, you’re awfully confident. Almost like you think you actually belong here.”

I stopped and slowly turned to face him.

He was smirking now, as though he had said something clever.

I took a step toward him, then another. His smirk faltered when he saw my eyes.

“Say that again,” I said in a quiet but icy tone. He hesitated, but before he could decide whether to double down or backtrack, my phone rang.

The high shrill sound cut through the tension sharply. I made sure to hold his gaze for one more second before pulling my phone out and answering the call.

“Yes?”

“Ma’am, this is the moving company,” the voice on the other end sounded strained. “We… we’ve run into a situation.”

My brows furrowed as I frowned,

“What kind of situation?”

“There’s someone here,” he said quickly. “A woman. She’s not letting us take anything. She claims this is her house, and she is being aggressive. Violent, even. We didn’t want to escalate this, so we called you—”

A cold realization settled in my chest. Lyra.

“Lyra,” I finished flatly.

There was a pause before a reply came through the line.

“…Yes, ma’am.” the man said, ‘That was what she identified herself as.”

“Stay put,” I said, “I will be there in minutes.”

I ended the call without another word.

Kellan frowned. “What-”

“Stay here,” I said while already turning toward the door. “I will be pack.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked out, got into my car, and started the engine. My grip tightened around the steering wheel as I pulled out of the driveway. By the time I got back to my apartment, a small crowd had already formed outside.

The moving truck was parked crookedly, and the workers stood off to the side, clearly uneasy.

And at the center of it all was a very pissed off werewolf, Lyra.

She stood in the doorway like a guard dog, her posture tense, her eyes sharp and wild as she argued with one of the movers.

“You’re not taking anything out of here,” she snapped. “Not a single thing.”

“Lyra.”

My voice cut through the noise and she froze. Her eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, something flickered there.

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, stepping forward. “What are they doing here?”

I walked toward her, my steps steady, controlled.

“They’re moving my things,” I said simply.

Her brows furrowed deeply. “Moving…?” she repeated, like the word didn’t make sense.

Then her gaze sharpened, “You are leaving?” she asked, “Why? To where?”

I stopped a few feet away from her and smiled, “Away from you.”