LOGINLYRA POV
They discharged me the next morning.
Not because I was fine nor because I was ready. But because they said I was stable enough to leave. That phrase followed me everywhere now.
‘Stable enough.’
I didn't have to be healed or safe. Just strong enough to be moved out of sight.
A nurse helped me into a wheelchair. I did not argue anymore. Arguing required strength, and I had very little of that left. My body felt unfamiliar and fragile, as if one careless move could split me open again.
“Your husband will be waiting outside,” she said.
I did not respond. Husband huh. The same one who was with his sister the entire time his wife was in admission.
The hallway smelled the same as before.
Clean. Cold. Empty.
I kept my eyes forward because I did not want to see that glass wall again. I did not want to remember how small I felt lying there while the truth stood on two healthy legs beside my husband.
Darius stood near the exit when we reached the front. He looked rested and much better than the crying man earlier.
He had changed his clothes, and his hair was neat again. When he saw me, his facial expression quickly changed into concern. How much of a pretender can he be?
“Lyra,” he said, stepping closer. “How are you feeling?”
I stared at him. “You tell me.”
His brows drew together. “What does that mean?”
“It means you were not there when I woke up.”
“I had to step out.”
“You stepped out for hours. 24 hours to be precise.”
“My sister needed me.”
I laughed quietly. It hurt my side, but I did not stop myself this time. “She always does, doesn't she?”
His mouth opened, then closed. “Let us go home.”
Home.
The word felt empty now, but what choice did I have?
He did not take me to our penthouse.
The car drove past familiar streets, then unfamiliar ones. The buildings changed. The noise faded. When the car finally stopped, I saw a white house standing alone behind tall gates.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“A temporary place,” Darius replied. “Until things settle.”
I looked at him. “Things have already settled. Just not for me.”
He ignored me and drove in.
Inside, the house smelled unused. Everything was neat and somewhat robotic. It had no personal touch. No photos. No signs of life. It felt staged, as if someone expected us but never planned to stay.
A woman was already inside.
She stood near the kitchen counter, holding a glass of water. She turned when we entered, and smiled.
Selene.
No hospital gown. No weakness. She wore a red dress that fit her body perfectly. Her hair fell neatly over her shoulders. She looked calm.
Alive.
“Oh,” she said gently. “You are home.”
I gripped the armrest of the wheelchair. “So this is where you were.”
Darius moved forward. “Lyra, this is not the time.”
“When would be the time?” I asked. “After I sign whatever papers your mother keeps bringing.”
Selene stepped closer. “You should rest, you know.”
I laughed again. “Do not speak to me as if you care.”
She flinched, then recovered quickly. “I am grateful.”
“For what?”
“For what you did,” she said. “For me.”
“For you,” I repeated. “Or for him.”
Darius sighed. “Enough.”
“No,” I said. “Enough was when I gave up my body without knowing the truth.”
Lucinda walked in then, her heels clicking against the floor. She looked around approvingly. “You are awake. That's good.”
I looked at her. “You all planned this.”
She raised a brow. “Planned what, my dear?”
“Everything,” I said. “The marriage. The surgery. The lies.”
And she did not deny it.
“You should be proud,” she said with clear disdain. “You served a purpose.”
“A purpose,” I repeated.
Darius looked away.
“So tell me,” I said with a steady voice despite the pain. “Was any of it real?”
He inhaled slowly. “Our marriage was necessary.”
Necessary.
“That is the answer to the question I asked.”
“It was strategic,” he said. “You were compatible, and you fit all the requirements.”
“And Selene,” I asked. “What does she fit?”
He looked at her then. His face softened. “She is my partner.”
The room felt smaller.
“What?” My head began to spin in circles.
“She always has been,” Selene added quietly.
I nodded, trying to steady my head. “So I was what. A solution.”
Lucinda smiled. “You were convenient, darling.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I looked at Darius. “Did you ever feel anything for me?”
He hesitated, and that pause told me everything.
Lucinda placed a folder on the table. “Okay, enough of the emotional chit chat. This should be resolved quickly.”
“Resolved,” I said. “Or erased.”
“You’re quite smart for an omega,” she replied calmly. “This arrangement benefited you more than you realize.”
I stared at her. “I lost a kidney.”
“And you gained status,” she said. “A name. Protection.”
“I gained scars,” I replied.
Darius stepped forward. “Lyra, let us not make this harder.”
“Harder for who?” I asked. “Myself or you.”
Selene moved closer again. “I never wanted to hurt you, sweetheart.” She made a pouting face.
“But you did,” I said. “And you knew you would.”
She reached for my hand. I pulled back. “Do not touch me, you fucking bitch.”
“Me? A bitch.” She said calmly. “The only bitch I see here is the one in a wheelchair.”
“Anyways, that's not what I wanted to say.” She turned around and began pacing. “I wanted to thank you for saving his legacy.”
“No,” I said painfully. “I saved your life.”
She paused and turned again to face me. “You saved our baby.”
I froze.
“What did you say?”
She took my hand again before I could stop her, placing it gently against her stomach.
“I am pregnant,” she said softly. “You saved my child.”
The room went silent.
I looked down at where my hand rested. And I felt nothing but the numbness spreading through me.
Lucinda nodded. “You did well.”
Darius did not speak.
I pulled my hand back slowly.
“So that is it,” I said. “I gave up my body so you could have a future.”
Selene squatted in front of me. “Thank you.”
~ ELIJAH ~ “He’s cold, Elijah,” Dell whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s so cold.” I couldn’t answer yet. My arm had only just come back to me, pins and needles racing down it as the woman’s invisible grip let go, and the blade I’d dropped lay on the floorboards three feet away, too far to reach. The front door still hung open on the dark. Of the woman herself there was no trace, only a faint ripple in the air above the threshold that smoothed itself out while I watched. “She’s gone,” Gideon rasped from the table, half collapsed over the edge of it, his fingers still locked around a blade he had never managed to lift. “Elijah, she’s gone, go to the boy.” I was already moving, though I glanced once at the packing along his side, soaked dark through the cloth, and understood I was choosing between two men with only one pair of hands. Corin lay where the woman had left him, curled on his side beside the overturned table with one hand flung out toward the door. The wound across his
~ LYRA ~ “Breathe, you arrogant idiot,” I sobbed, my voice cracking on every word. “Breathe.” Darius’s palm lay heavy over my hand, and beneath it, through the gold-lit glass, his heartbeat had stopped. I felt the silence the way you feel a missing stair in the dark, a sudden drop where something solid should have been. Kael’s pulse limped along beside it, thin but stubborn, the only sound left in the tether. “Eleven seconds,” the woman said, her pen scratching across the notebook in her hand. She sounded delighted. “Twelve. Do keep going, dear, this is remarkable.” “Stop counting,” Aelindra snarled from the wall, rage and grief fighting in her throat as she hauled herself upright. “Lyra, listen to me. Let the stone have him. You cannot hold three.” “He’s dying,” I said, tears running into my mouth. “He’s dying because of me.” “He’s dying because he chose to,” Tobiah answered hoarsely, still kneeling in the dust. “Davin’s healer never came back, child. Neither will he.” Kael’s
~ DARIUS ~ “Don’t let go, dear,” the woman murmured, kneeling beside Lyra with the patience of a nurse at a bedside. “You’ll want to keep him warm.” I was still on my feet, and she hadn’t spared me a single glance. People always looked at me first, because assessing the threat was the courtesy everyone paid, so being ignored felt worse than being aimed at. “What did you do to it,” Lyra choked out, her voice splintering as her hands shook beneath Kael’s, still locked around the stone. “I reversed it.” The woman patted her wrist as if soothing a child. “Before, you poured warmth into him faster than the stone could drain it. Now it drinks from him first and takes whatever is left from you.” The gold in the chamber had turned slow and heavy, pulsing in time with Kael’s labored breathing. Every push of heat Lyra sent down the tether came back doubled as a loss, and his knuckles had gone grey against hers. “Let go, Lyra,” Kael wheezed, each word dragging out of him like it weighed so
CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN ~ LYRA ~ "Let go," Kael rasped from somewhere near my knees. "Lyra. Drop it." "I can't," I sobbed, panic scraping my throat raw. My fingers had closed around the stone and stopped taking orders. The glass was cold, then warm, then hot enough that I should have screamed, but the heat didn't burn. It poured up my arm and settled behind my ribs, where my own core lived, and my core opened for it like a door. The chamber had gone dark. I could still see. Gold lines ran through the black behind my eyelids, and at the end of each one stood Kael. Not his body. The deep, quiet place at the other end of the tether, the one I had learned to reach for a thread at a time. The stone wasn't taking a thread. It was taking the whole river. I felt him thin. I felt the vast, patient depth of him tilt and begin to drain, a tide going out, and every beat of my heart pushed it further. "Stop," I begged the stone, my voice cracking apart. "Stop, stop, please." "It doesn't li
~ KAEL ~ "Don't touch it," I rasped, one hand clamped around Lyra's wrist. My knee had hit stone and I couldn't remember going down. The bond roared in my chest, so loud it drowned the lamp's hiss and Tobiah's breathing. Every beat of Lyra's heart landed twice inside me, once in her pulse and once in mine. The stone pulsed gold in time with both. "It doesn't hurt," Lyra whispered, wonder trembling through her voice. She stared at the thing in Tobiah's palm as if it had called her by name. "Kael, it's warm. It feels like..." "Like what?" "Like someone's holding the door open for me." Fear closed around my throat. I dragged myself upright on her arm, and the room swung once before it settled. The tether pulled against my sternum like a rope with a weight at the other end, and the weight was growing. "Put it away," I snarled at Tobiah, fury cracking the words down the middle. "Wrap it up. Now." "I can't." He looked ashamed of that. "It's awake. It won't sleep again for me." "Th
~ AELINDRA ~ "Leave it dark," the voice said from the passage. "You'll want to be sitting down before you see me." I wasn't sitting. My knees had stopped taking instructions. "Light," Kael snarled, his blade scraping free in the black beside me. "Now. Or I start swinging at the sound." "There's no need for that, Alpha Draven." The voice sounded gentle and dreadfully tired. "I'm an old man carrying a lamp." A match scraped. Flame caught on a wick, and warm yellow light climbed the carved walls of the chamber, softer than anything I could have conjured. He stood in the mouth of the passage with the lamp held low. Thin. Grey-bearded. A coat gone shiny at the elbows. He looked sixty, maybe, and he was not. I knew the eyes. "Tobiah," I whispered. "Hello, love." Something broke open in my chest. I had buried this man. I had stood in cold mud fifteen decades ago and put a coat stained with his blood into the ground, because there had been nothing else to put there. "You died," I s







