5: Didn’t You Hope For This?

LYRA

I woke up feeling like I had been dragged through something I couldn’t remember. My body felt heavy and weak, with an aching, unfamiliar soreness. I lay still, trying to piece together fragments of the night before. Flashes—red eyes, a voice, a hand around my neck, the words, “Your husband sold you…”—made me gasp and snap my eyes open.

The room was silent, the ceiling unfamiliar.

I sat up, muttering, “It was just a dream. A very stupid dream.” I tried to rationalise the lingering physical discomfort as stress.

I let out a shaky breath and dragged a hand down my face, my mind trying to process everything that happened last night. That was all it had to be. The tension. The fear. The… confusion. A dream.

Nothing more.

It had to be stress.

Swinging my legs off the bed, I noticed neatly folded clothes on a chair. A dress—simple but elegant. Soft fabric that looked expensive even without touching it. Underneath it were undergarments, shoes placed carefully beside the chair, and even a small clutch bag.

It was all new and definitely not mine, arranged as if someone knew exactly what I needed. A strange chill went up my spine. “That’s… thoughtful. Or weird,” I whispered.

Pushing the thought aside, I picked up the clothes and headed into the bathroom. The shower from last night came back to me in fragments, and heat crept up my neck before I shoved that memory away as well. I took a quick shower, deliberately blanking my mind.

The new dress fit perfectly and I felt a little more like myself. Or at least, like the version of myself I understood.

I stared at my reflection for a second longer than necessary, then turned away quickly and walked to the door.

I found the butler near the grand staircase. He bowed slightly as I approached, but as he straightened, I froze. The morning light hit his face directly, and I noticed his eyes. They weren’t just brown; they were a strange, amber-gold that seemed to glow from within, the pupils slightly more vertical than a human’s should be.

“Good morning, Ms. Lyra,” he said, his voice smooth and devoid of any real warmth. “Alpha Raguel has already departed for the morning. He asked that you make yourself comfortable. Breakfast has been prepared for you.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

“This way, please.”

I hesitated briefly before following him.

The dining room looked exactly like it had the night before but this time, the table was set for one.

The food smelled really good.

But the moment I stepped closer, my stomach turned.

“I’m not… really hungry,” I said quickly.

The butler paused, then turned to look at me.

“Are you certain, ma’am? You should eat.”

His voice was still polite.

But there was something underneath it.

Something that made my skin prickle.

“I’m sure,” I replied, a little too fast. “Thank you.”

His gaze lingered on me for a second longer than necessary, then he nodded.

“As you wish.”

Silence stretched between us.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Um… I should probably head home.”

“Of course. The driver is waiting at the front entrance.”

“Thank you.”

I didn’t wait any longer. I practically ran for the door. The driver held the car door open for me. As I slid into the back seat, our eyes met in the rearview mirror. Again, that same unsettling intensity. His teeth seemed slightly too sharp when he gave me a tight, professional smile.

As we drove away from the secluded estate, I stared out of the window, trying to steady my thoughts, trying to make sense of everything.

But my mind wouldn’t stay quiet.

Raguel’s voice from the dream began to loop in my mind.

Have you heard of werewolves?

I stiffened.

My fingers curled tightly against my lap.

You see and encounter them every day... maybe even your neighbor.

I watched the pedestrians in the quieter suburbs we passed. A woman jogging with unnatural speed. A man at a bus stop whose eyes flashed a brief, glowing green in the sun.

I blinked and they were normal again.

I swallowed.

You’ll start noticing things…

“No,” I whispered.

The driver’s gaze flickered to me again through the mirror.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“I’m fine.”

My voice came out snappier than I intended.

“I’m just… tired.”

I turned my head back to the window, pressing my fingers against the glass.

The logic of the situation was like a broken puzzle that wouldn’t fit together. Raguel had demanded me. He had baited Aaron with millions of dollars just to get me into his house, only to send me to a guest room and leave me untouched. Why go through the drama of the trade if he didn’t want the prize?

By the time the car pulled up to our apartment complex, I was vibrating with a mix of terror and a desperate need for the familiar. I needed Aaron to tell me this was all a nightmare. I needed him to apologize so we could go back to the way things were.

I burst through the front door, the words already tumbling out of my mouth. “Aaron! Aaron, I’m home. You won’t believe what happened—he didn’t even—”

I stopped mid-sentence. The living room smelled of stale whiskey and sweat. Aaron was slumped in his armchair, his hair ruffled into a chaotic mess, a half-empty bottle of bourbon on the side table. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, but the look in his eyes wasn’t relief. It was a dark, simmering rage.

“You’re back,” he rasped.

“Y-yes—”

“What did you do?”

I blinked.

“What?”

He turned on me, his face twisted in a sneer of pure disgust. “What exactly did you do to him, Lyra? What kind of performance did you give that made a man like Raguel Whitebrock part with that much money after just one night?”

“Aaron, listen to me,” I said, moving toward him, my hands reaching out. “He didn’t touch me. Raguel—he just put me in a guest room. He didn’t sleep with me, Aaron. The deal—”

“Don’t,” he spat, standing up so abruptly the bottle rattled. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Lyra.”

“I’m not lying! I swear—”

“Shut up!” he roared, pacing the small room like a caged animal. “I saw the way he looked at you. And then this morning... the confirmation of the investment. The full amount. Deposited before the sun was even up.”

“I’m telling you what happened. Why won’t you listen to me?”

“Because you’re lying!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Aaron, I told you, nothing happened!” I cried, my heart breaking all over again.

“Nothing happened? You think I’m a fool?” He stepped into my personal space, the smell of alcohol overpowering. “You were always so ‘docile,’ so ‘quiet.’ But I guess all you needed was a bigger stage, right? A richer audience? Did you enjoy it? Being his little slut for the night?”

“Aaron! How can you say that?” I gasped, the sting of his words worse than any physical blow. “You’re the one who drove me there!”

“Because I had a company to save!” he yelled, waving his arms wildly. “But I didn’t expect my wife to take on the role with such... enthusiasm. You’ve probably been dreaming about a man like him for years, haven’t you? Someone who could actually make you scream instead of just faking it for me?”

The injustice of it flared hot in my chest. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” I bit back, my voice trembling with a sudden, fierce defiance. “You told me to be a ‘perfect little slut’ for him. You told me to do whatever it took to get the investment. And now that he’s paid, you’re mad because I did exactly what you asked?”