8. The Masked Game

Lyra

“Lyra.”

The voice was smooth, a little too smooth, like silk hiding a blade. I blinked the memory away, forcing my spine to straighten as I turned irritated at the fact that he would come looking for me again after I had made it clear that I didn't want to be involved with him.

Alpha Leo of the Veil Pack stood beside me, wearing that same insufferable smirk he always did, the kind that screamed I know more than you think. I didn’t smile. I didn’t curtsy. I didn’t even bother pretending that I didn't hate him.

“Alpha Leo,” I said flatly, my gaze flicking past him. My mind wasn't and wouldn't be on him tonight and not ever.

Killian stood near the center of the ballroom, regal and devastating in dark grey. His shoulders looked stiff beneath the formal cloak draped around them, his mouth set in a frown too subtle for most to notice, but I did. I saw the way he turned his drink in his hand without sipping it. The way he kept glancing at the Luna candidates like he couldn’t decide whether to run or scream.

And I knew why. He still loved me and I had been too blind to see it.

“You look radiant tonight,” Leo offered, inching a little closer. “Your pack must be proud.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “You mean the pack that watched me embarrass Killian in front of the council? And you already told me that, remember? Or repeating yourself like a broken record is your thing?”

He chuckled, pretending he didn't catch the sarcasm in my words. 

“Not everyone sees it as embarrassment. Some call it bravery. Not everyone can say not to an alpha but you did. You followed your heart.”

“Not you though,” I said, finally glancing at him. “You prefer obedient girls, don’t you? The ones who know how to sit still and shut up.”

His eyes twitched. Just barely. But I caught it.

Touché.

Now that I was back here for the second time, I was sharper than before. They had made me so. They had made ke distrust even myself and that was why it was easy to catch those little emotions that on a normal day, I couldn't.

“I came to offer peace,” he said after a beat. “Let’s not make enemies tonight, Lyra. This is a sacred occasion. I was also serious about making you my Luna.”

Sacred. What a joke.

They called it the Luna Choosing Ceremony, as if it were some celestial, romantic rite of passage. But I knew the truth, at least tonight’s truth. It wasn’t about bonds or destiny. It was about power, control, and the sickening lengths people would go to for both.

Like Selene.

My throat tightened as the memory stirred again, not just of that night, but of the version no one knew except me. No one knew that I was here for the second time. 

The first time I was here, it was to show Killian that he would never get me.

One year ago

The music had been the same, hauntingly beautiful. The hall glittered with floating candles and smiling liars. I had worn silver, my hair braided with moonstones, and my heart had been full.

Killian had reached for my hand once that night. Just once. But it had been enough.

And then he vanished when I had given him a piece of my mind.

They then told me he had left early, that he felt ill. Selene looked especially smug when she relayed the message.

I didn’t sleep that night. Neither did Killian, though he wouldn’t remember. Because Selene, sweet and cunning Selene, had colluded with Damon and Alpha Leo to lace Killian’s drink with a strong aphrodisiac.

They dressed her in my perfume. Braided her hair like mine. They sent her to his chambers.

And she pretended. Pretended to be me.

I found out days later. Killian never remembered what happened. And Selene? She smiled every time she looked at me, as if daring me to break.

I never did because I thought that Killian had slept with her willingly. They had told me so and I didn't care because Damon was my world. 

Now

Leo was still talking, some garbage about diplomacy and alliances, but I didn’t hear most of it. My attention had shifted to Selene, who glided across the room in gold, every strand of hair meticulously curled. She laughed too brightly as she brushed past other candidates, but I saw her real target.

Killian.

He was still watching the crowd, still holding that untouched glass and his cold aura keeping everyone at bay. Selene moved like a predator in heels, her fingers trailing the rim of a new goblet she had plucked from a passing server’s tray.

I narrowed my eyes.

“You seem distracted,” Leo noted, sipping his wine.

“I find this whole event distracting,” I replied without missing a beat.

“You used to be softer, Lyra” he said, his voice lower now. “Back when we first met.”

“And you used to be smarter,” I countered. “Back when you knew not to play with fire.”

He chuckled again, but this time, it was tighter. Forced.

He leaned in just a fraction. “There’s no need for hostility. We are both here for the same thing.”

I turned to face him now, fully. “Are we now?”

“To protect what matters,” he said.

And there it was. The veiled message.

I bit down a laugh. 

“Funny. I don’t remember asking for your protection.”

His smile faltered. He didn’t reply.

I turned my gaze back to Killian.

Selene had reached him now. Her hand touched his arm, light, familiar. He smiled coldly but politely, said something I couldn’t hear and then she offered the drink. My breath hitched. My wolf stirred.

She held it like a peace offering, her eyes shining too brightly, her lips painted like a poisoned rose.

Killian looked at the glass. Looked at her.

Then slowly, too slowly, he reached for it.

I clenched my fists.

“She’s bold,” Leo said softly, as if sensing where my attention had gone.

“She’s desperate,” I murmured.

He gave me a sideways glance. “Are you jealous?”

“Are you stupid?”

Silence stretched between us like a wire pulled taut.

Killian lifted the drink toward his lips. My heart roared in my chest.

Don’t. Don’t drink that. Don’t let her. Don’t fall for it again.

Not this time.

He took a sip.

Just one.

Selene smiled like a snake who had swallowed the moon. I took a step forward, slow and deliberate, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Whatever game they thought they were playing, it wasn’t over.

Not yet.

It had just started.