Chapter 2

Kael treated Elara like a fated mate from the old stories.

Everything she needed, he provided. Scent balms for her anxiety. Silver-nettle salves for the shallow cuts on her palms. A private suite in the Blackthorn manor, overlooking the eastern woods where the moon rose fat and silver. The pack whispered that she would be their future Luna.

And Elara? She glowed.

"Lyra," she said one afternoon, her fingers twisting together. "What if the Council refuses to let Kael mate me? I'm just a Beta. My family pack is gone."

I knelt beside her, smoothing the hem of her gown. "Elara, Kael is the Alpha heir. He'll find a way."

She was a Beta. Her father had been the Silvermane Pack's head—until the rogues slaughtered them. Now she was an orphan, dependent on the Blackthorns' charity. And Kael Blackthorn was destined for a high-ranking she-wolf, preferably an Alpha's daughter.

But I knew better than anyone how stubborn he could be.

"Really?" Elara's scent brightened, honeysuckle and hope.

I nodded. "Really."

I wasn't lying. In my past life, Kael had fought the entire Council to claim me—a supposed Beta (I didn't know I was an Omega then), a nobody. He had taken lashes for me. Challenged his own uncle. He would do the same for Elara.

At that moment, the door opened. Kael strode in carrying a velvet-lined box. He opened it to reveal a cloak—midnight black, trimmed with white wolf fur, so soft it seemed to drink the light.

"For you," he said, draping it over Elara's shoulders.

She gasped, running her fingers over the fur. "This is… Kael, this must have cost a fortune."

He smiled, that rare, private smile I remembered too well. "I hunted the wolf myself. Killed it on the northern ridge."

Elara laughed with delight. I looked away.

In another life, Kael had shown me that cloak's twin. He had rolled up his sleeve to reveal the scar on his wrist—a claw mark from the same hunt—and I had cried when I accepted it.

Now I kept my eyes on the floor. But when I glanced up, he was staring at me.

His dark eyes lingered on my face for a heartbeat too long.

A chill went through me.

Later, as I escorted him to the main hall, his good humor vanished. His voice dropped to a low growl, barely audible. "Don't reach for what isn't yours, Lyra."

I kept my head bowed. "I wouldn't dream of it, Alpha."

He didn't respond. Just left.

I exhaled slowly. He was right to warn me. I had no intention of touching anything that belonged to Elara—including Kael Blackthorn.

The next morning, I asked Elara for my freedom.

"My brother is alive," I told her. The lie came easily. "He wrote to me. I want to leave after your mating ceremony. Find my own pack."

Elara was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded, her eyes wet. "You saved my life, Lyra. I won't trap you here." She handed me a folded document—my servitude contract, signed over to me.

I pressed it to my chest. "Thank you."

"But stay until I'm settled," she added. "Please. I trust no one else."

I agreed. The contract warmed in my pocket.

Kael grew busy after that. Pack politics. Territory disputes. He visited Elara less often.

One evening, Elara handed me a thermos of wolfsbane-free herbal stew. "Take this to him. He's been skipping meals."

I hesitated.

"Lyra, please." She bit her lip. "The household staff are all his grandmother's spies. You're the only one I trust."

I took the thermos.

At Kael's study door, I gave it to his Beta guard. The wolf—big, lumbering, with a voice like gravel—shouted inside, "Alpha! Lyra's here with your dinner."

I winced.

A long pause. Then: "Tell her to wait."

I waited. The thermos grew heavy in my arms. My muscles ached. Twenty minutes passed. Thirty.

Finally, the guard waved me in.

Kael sat by the window, trimming the claws of a mounted wolf skull. He didn't look up. "Set it down."

I crossed the room. Before I could place the thermos on his desk, he stood, knocked it from my hands. The stew splashed across the floor. Shards of ceramic scattered.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his fingers, and smiled coldly. "I warned you, Lyra. Don't reach."

I stared at the mess. At the cut on my palm where a shard had nicked me. I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, my voice was steady. "The stew was from Elara, Alpha. She worried you weren't eating."

Kael froze.

I knelt and gathered the pieces without waiting for permission. As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist.

His jaw worked. He looked almost… ashamed. Then he shoved a small jar into my hands. "Healing salve," he muttered. "Put it on that cut. I won't have you limping around and causing Elara to ask questions."

I took it without thanks and walked out.

In the hallway, I pressed my forehead to the cool stone wall and breathed.

One day at a time, I told myself.