Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO. 

CRASH THE PARTY.

No. No, this had to be wrong. This had to be some kind of mistake. Maybe it was a different Marcus. Maybe it was a different Isla. There had to be an explanation.

Lyra moved closer to the house on shaking legs. Her boots felt like they were filled with stones. Each step took enormous effort. Through the large front window, she could see inside. The main room was packed with people, all facing the center where Marcus stood there. 

Her Marcus. Tall and handsome with his blonde hair that caught the light. His bright smile that used to make her heart skip. He wore formal clothes, the kind pack members wore for important occasions. For matings. For anniversaries.

Next to him stood Isla.

Lyra's best friend. The girl she'd grown up with. The one she'd told all her secrets to. The one she'd trusted with everything. Isla wore a beautiful dress, deep blue like the evening sky. And on her head sat a silver circlet, the mark of a Luna.

The mark that should have been Lyra's.

As Lyra watched, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to look away, Marcus leaned down and kissed Isla. Long and deep. The kind of kiss that spoke of love. Of belonging. Of years together.

The pack cheered. They raised their glasses. They celebrated.

Two small children, twins by the look of them, ran up and hugged Marcus and Isla's legs. A boy and a girl, both with blonde hair like Marcus. They were laughing, excited by the party.

"Mama! Papa!" the children called out. Their voices were high and sweet.

The sound of those words hit Lyra like a physical blow. Her knees nearly gave out. She grabbed the wall to keep her from falling.

Her eyes found her mother in the crowd. Helena sat at the head table, the position of honor reserved for the most important pack members. She was laughing as she helped the twin children blow out candles on a massive cake. The light from the candles made Helena's face glow.

Lyra had never seen her mother look so happy. So relaxed. So full of joy. So at peace.

Helena had never looked at Lyra like that. Not once in Lyra's entire life. Not even when Lyra had left on her mission. Not even when she'd accomplished something important.

Lyra's knees felt weak. She grabbed the wall to steady herself. The rough stone scraped against her palm but she barely felt it.

This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. It had to be a nightmare. She'd wake up any moment now, back in her tent at the last negotiation site. This was just exhaustion playing tricks on her mind.

But it was real. She could see it with her own eyes. She could hear the laughter. Smell the food. Feel the evening breeze on her skin.

Marcus had another mate. Isla, her best friend, her sister in everything but blood was Luna now. They had children together. Twin pups who were big enough to walk and talk and call them mama and papa.

Lyra looked at those children more closely. Her strategic mind, the one that had negotiated peace between warring packs, kicked in despite her shock. She studied their size, their development, their coordination.

They weren't newborns. They weren't even toddlers. They were at least four years old. Maybe almost five. Their speech was clear. Their movements coordinated. They'd been walking and talking for years.

The math crashed into Lyra's brain like ice water.

If the twins were almost five, and Marcus and Isla were celebrating their fifth anniversary, then Isla had been pregnant before Lyra left. Marcus had already been with her, had already gotten her pregnant, while he was promising Lyra he would wait. While he was holding Lyra's hand under the stars. While he was calling Lyra perfect. While he was saying she was exactly what the pack needed.

He'd been planning to replace her all along.

She was never the one. 

And every promise had been a lie. Every sweet word had been hollow. Every moment they'd shared before she left had been nothing but deception.

Lyra's breathing came in short gasps. Her vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall. Her chest felt tight, like someone was crushing her ribs. Everything she'd worked for, everything she'd sacrificed, every lonely night and difficult negotiation, every moment she'd pushed through exhaustion and danger, all of it had been for nothing.

They'd moved on without her. They'd built a life without her. They'd created a family without her. They'd replaced her like she'd never existed.

And her mother, the woman who'd raised her, who'd taught her right from wrong, who was supposed to love her unconditionally, that woman looked happier with Isla's children than she'd ever looked with Lyra.

"What are you doing here?"

Lyra spun around. A pack member she vaguely recognized stood behind her, holding a plate of food. The woman's expression was hostile.

"I…..I live here," Lyra managed to say. Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears.

The woman's expression hardened. Her eyes narrowed. "Not anymore, you don't. You left. Luna Isla took your place, and she's been good for this pack. Better than you ever were. She actually cares about us. She's here. She doesn't abandon her responsibilities."

The words were like knives.

The woman walked away before Lyra could respond. Before Lyra could explain that she hadn't abandoned anything. That she'd been serving the pack. That she'd sacrificed everything for them.

But the woman was already gone, disappearing back into the crowd of celebrating pack members. Pack members who had accepted Isla as their Luna. Who preferred Isla to Lyra.

Lyra stood alone in the growing darkness. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. Like fire. Like blood. She watched through the window as the pack celebrated. As Marcus held Isla close, his hand on her waist with the casual intimacy of years together. As her mother smiled at children who weren't hers. As everyone she'd ever known and loved proved they'd never really known or loved her at all.

As everything Lyra had believed about her life shattered into a million pieces.

Something hot and painful burned in Lyra's chest. Not sadness. Not yet. That would come later, she knew. In the quiet moments. In the dark of night. That would come when she was alone.

Right now, all she felt was rage.

Pure, burning, righteous rage.

She'd given them five years. Five years of her life. Five years of negotiations that had nearly killed her more than once. Five years of sleeping in dangerous territory and eating food she couldn't trust and never letting her guard down. Five years of pushing through exhaustion and fear and loneliness.

She'd done everything right. She'd been dutiful, dedicated, perfect. She'd put the pack first, just like they'd always taught her. Just like Marcus had said made her perfect.

And they'd betrayed her anyway.

They'd replaced her while she was gone. They'd built a life without her. They'd celebrated anniversaries and raised children and been a family while she'd been alone in foreign territory, working for their benefit.

Lyra's hands clenched into fists. Her nails dug into her palms hard enough to draw blood. The pain felt good. Real. Something to focus on besides the agony in her chest.

Well, if they wanted to pretend she didn't exist, she'd show them exactly who Lyra Ashwood was. She'd show them what they'd thrown away. She'd make them see her.

She walked toward the front door of the pack house. Her jaw

was set. Her amber eyes were blazing. Her spine was straight.

It was time to crash this party.