Chapter 2: Sign It Over

POV: Lyra Mooncrest

Alaric pushed past me without waiting, holding a mug of cinnamon tea I had spent years brewing for him every morning.

He walked into my small room like he owned every inch of the floor. He didn't ask permission. He didn't even look at me when he took a slow sip from the ceramic cup, letting the steam rise up between us. The warm, sweet scent of cinnamon filled the air, a cruel reminder of how many early mornings I had spent standing by the stove, perfecting that exact recipe just to see him smile for two seconds.

He didn't care about the tea. He never had. It was just something he expected me to provide.

"You're making a scene outside, Lyra," Alaric said, his tone cold and sharp. He set the steaming mug down on my bedside table, right on top of my clean paperwork, leaving a round wet ring on the wood. "The guards are listening. The neighbors are watching. I don't have time for your childish tantrums today."

I stood near the open doorway, resting my hands at my sides. My heart was pounding, but my face remained completely still. "I said what I needed to say, Alaric."

"You said no to me," he said, turning around slowly. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, full of irritation. "You have never said no to me. Not when I asked you to work extra shifts, not when I asked you to manage the pack budget, and certainly not when it comes to helping this pack run smoothly."

"Managing the pack budget is my job," I replied, keeping my voice level and quiet. "Crawling under the main hall to fix pipes so Thalia can host a party is not."

Alaric took a step closer, reaching into his inner coat pocket. "Thalia is delicate. Her chest gets tight when the draft hits her. You know that. She asked me nicely this morning, with tears in her eyes, if we could make the main hall warm for her guests. And instead of helping, you act like a spoiled child."

"She has five servants," I said. "And three brothers who do nothing all day but train in the yard. Why didn't you ask them to fix the pipes?"

"Because you know how the system works!" Alaric snapped, his patience snapping. He pulled out a thick leather folder and tossed it onto my desk. It landed with a dry knock against the wood, right next to my calendar. "Enough about the pipes. We have more important things to handle right now."

I looked down at the dark folder. "What is that?"

"It's the paperwork for Silver Ridge," Alaric said smoothly, leaning his hip against the edge of my desk. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at me as if he were granting me a favor. "I had the pack lawyer draft it yesterday. All it needs is your signature right at the bottom."

A cold feeling settled deep in my stomach, far colder than the phantom snow from my memory.

Silver Ridge.

That was my mother’s private mountain land. It was a three-acre plot of rich soil, dense pine trees, and elevated stone cliffs located right on the northern border. My mother had inherited it from her family, and on her deathbed, she had placed the deed directly into my hands. It was the only thing I truly owned in this world. It didn't belong to the Sun Valley Pack, and it certainly didn't belong to Alaric.

In my past life, Alaric had stood in this exact spot, holding this exact folder. He had spoken to me with fake softness, telling me that the pack needed the land to build an extra lookout tower for our security. I had been so desperate for his approval, so blindly in love with him, that I had cried, thanked him for trusting me, and signed my name on the line without even reading the full text.

And what did he do with it?

He didn't build a lookout tower. He built a private luxury villa for Thalia. He cleared the trees, built heated glass rooms, and gave her a place to drink tea while the rest of us worked in the dust. And when the apocalyptic cold hit years later, that luxury villa on Silver Ridge became their private haven while the rest of the pack froze in the lower valley.

"Why do you need Silver Ridge?" I asked, keeping my tone plain and flat.

Alaric waved his hand dismissively. "Thalia needs fresh mountain air. The doctors said the dust in the lower village is bad for her throat. The valley air triggers her cough every time the seasons change. Silver Ridge has high elevation and clean pine air. I'm going to build a private holiday retreat up there for her so she can rest comfortably during the winter."

I stared at him, barely able to believe the absolute arrogance in his voice.

"A retreat," I repeated.

"Yes," Alaric said, entirely unbothered. "It's a small plot of wild land anyway. You don't use it. You're always in the living quarters or the office. It's just sitting there doing nothing. Giving it to Thalia is the best use for it."

"It belonged to my mother," I said softly.

"Your mother passed away five years ago, Lyra," Alaric said, his voice dropping into that fake, patronizing tone he used whenever he wanted to manipulate me. "Holding onto a piece of dirt out of sentimentality is foolish. The pack needs to use its resources wisely. Thalia's health is important to the morale of this entire village. You care about the pack, don't you?"

There it was. The trap. He always used the pack to twist my arm. If I said no, I was selfish. If I hesitated, I didn't care about the people.

In my past life, that guilt had eaten me alive. I had sacrificed my pride, my rest, my health, and my inheritance just to prove I was worthy of standing by his side.

I looked at Alaric. I looked at the dark hair falling over his forehead, his sharp jaw, his clear brown eyes that held zero affection for me. I felt no anger. I felt no heartbreak. The burning love I had carried for six years was gone, burned away by the freezing wind outside that locked bunker door.

All that was left inside me was an absolute, unbreakable calm.

I walked over to the desk. I reached out and opened the leather folder.

The paper inside was thick and official. My eyes scanned down the lines of text quickly, skipping the flowery legal phrases until I reached the core agreement near the bottom.

“I, Lyra Mooncrest, hereby surrender all personal rights, title, and ownership of the Silver Ridge territory to the Alpha of Sun Valley Pack, effective immediately, without condition or financial compensation.”

Without compensation. He wasn't even offering to buy it. He expected me to hand over my mother's legacy for zero dollars, just so his girlfriend wouldn't have to cough in the autumn breeze.

"Well?" Alaric asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an ink pen. He held it out toward me. "Sign it. I have a meeting with the timber builders in an hour to discuss the foundation plans."

I didn't take the pen.

Instead, I gently folded the parchment in half. I folded it a second time, pressing the crease down with my thumb until it was neat and sharp. Then, right in front of his eyes, I slipped the folded document deep into the inner pocket of my coat.

Alaric froze, the pen still held out in the air between us. His eyes widened slightly in pure shock.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. "I told you to sign it."

"I read it," I said smoothly.

"Then sign it!"

"No," I said.

The word fell into the small room like a heavy stone dropping into deep water.

Alaric’s face flushed red. He took back the pen, his fingers tightening around it so hard the plastic creaked. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said no, Alaric," I replied, standing my ground. "Silver Ridge is my property. It was passed down through my bloodline. It is not pack land, and it does not belong to you."

"Are you insane?" Alaric stepped forward, his voice rising into a sharp roar that vibrated off the wooden walls. "I am the Alpha of this pack! Everything within these borders answers to me!"

"The territorial treaty signed by your father twenty years ago clearly states that private ancestral holdings are exempt from Alpha command unless the pack is in a declared state of war," I said, quoting the exact law from memory. "We are not at war. Therefore, Silver Ridge remains mine."

Alaric glared at me, completely speechless for a second. He wasn't used to me knowing the laws better than he did. He wasn't used to me fighting back at all.

"Thalia is sick!" he shouted, pointing toward the window. "She needs that land for her health! Are you really so heartless that you would let her suffer just out of petty jealousy?"

"If she needs mountain air, buy a cabin in the upper market," I said coldly. "Or build her a house on public pack land. But you will not take my mother's home to build her a playhouse."

"Lyra!" Alaric growled, his eyes darkening with furious anger. "You are pushing me too far today! I have been patient with you, but I will not tolerate this disrespect!"

He took a large, aggressive step toward me, raising his arm, his fingers reaching out to grab my wrist to force compliance. He had used his physical dominance to intimidate people a hundred times before, expecting me to shrink back, cower, and give in like I always did.

In the past, I would have flinched. I would have stepped back with my head down, apologizing through my tears.

Not today.

As his hand came rushing toward my arm, I didn't panic. I didn't flinch. I simply shifted my weight to my back foot and sidestepped his reach with effortless, calm precision.

His hand caught empty air.

Alaric stumbled forward half a step, completely thrown off balance by my quick movement. He turned back around to look at me, his eyes wide with absolute shock and disbelief.

I smoothed down the front of my jacket, looking directly into his angry eyes with total detachment.

"Don't touch me," I said, my voice dropping into a quiet, chilling calm that made the room feel instantly colder.

"Lyra..." he breathed out, his jaw tight.

"You want my mother's land?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "You want to talk about pack resources and fairness in front of everyone?"

Alaric straightened his posture, trying to regain his authority. "What are you talking about?"

I pulled out my pocket watch, clicked the silver latch open, and checked the face.

"The morning assembly starts in ten minutes," I said, looking up from the clock to meet his gaze head-on. "The pack elders, the village leaders, and the family heads are all gathering in the main hall right now for the weekly announcements."

Alaric's eyes narrowed. "So what?"

"So, if you want Silver Ridge, don't ask me for it in private behind locked doors like a thief," I said, my voice steady, clear, and sharp as broken glass. "Come to the morning assembly. Bring Thalia with you. Stand before the entire pack and the elders, and demand that I hand over my dead mother's land so she can have a winter retreat."

Alaric stared at me, his face turning pale as the full meaning of my words hit him.

If he asked for it publicly, the elders would instantly condemn him. The pack members who worked hard every day would see that he was stripping a loyal worker of her inheritance just to build a luxury house for his girlfriend. It would ruin his reputation in front of the entire council.

"You wouldn't dare," Alaric whispered, his voice trembling with hidden rage.

I smiled, a cold, slow smile that didn't reach my eyes.

"Try me," I said. "Ten minutes, Alaric. Don't be late.”