Chapter 3

Lyra's POV

I barely remembered leaving the hall after Darius refused to answer my question. The stares followed me the entire way; some wolves pretended not to watch, but I could feel their eyes on my back. Others didn't bother hiding their curiosity at all.

The Luna had returned after a year of exile, only to discover another woman wearing her necklace and standing at her mate's side. It was exactly the kind of story people whispered about when they thought nobody was listening. 

By the time I reached the second floor of the packhouse, my head was pounding. The familiar hallway looked the same as it always had, yet everything felt different. I paused outside Leo's room and stared at the closed door more than anything else. I wanted to see my son, not in front of Vanessa or Darius, just the two of us. 

Whatever had happened during the past year, surely we could still find our way back to each other; he was my child, and he was the reason I survived exile without completely breaking apart.

The door opened before I could knock. Leo stepped into the hallway holding a small wooden wolf figurine. The moment he saw me, he froze. For a second, neither of us spoke; up close, the changes in him felt even more obvious. His face had lost some of its baby softness, and he carried himself with more confidence. 

He looked healthy, happy, and loved; I should have been grateful for that. Instead, all I could think about was how much I had missed: his birthday, his training lesson, his bedtime stories. An entire year of his life had happened without me.

 “Leo,” I said softly. “Can we talk for a minute?” 

He hesitated, his fingers tightened around the wooden toy. “About what?”

 The question wasn't rude; it wasn't from anger. There was no excitement in his voice, no happiness at seeing me again, just uncertainty like he wasn't sure why I wanted to speak to him in the first place.

I crouched slightly so we were closer to eye level. “I've missed you,” I admitted. “I thought about you every day.”

 Leo looked down at the floor. For a moment, hope flickered inside me. Maybe he was embarrassed, or he missed me too; then he shrugged.

 “Okay.”

 The single word hit me harder than it should have; I smiled anyway. 

“Do you want to spend some time together tomorrow? Maybe we can go to the lake as we used to.” 

He shook his head immediately. “I'm going hunting with Dad and Aunt Vanessa.”

 My smile faded. “Another day, then.” 

“I'm busy the rest of the week too.” 

There was no cruelty in the way he said it; he was simply being honest, but that honesty cut deeper than anger ever could. I looked at him carefully.

 “Leo, are you upset with me?” He finally raised his eyes to meet mine. Whatever answer I expected, it wasn't the one that came next.

“You left.”

The words were simple; children always found the shortest path to the truth.

“I didn't leave because I wanted to.” 

“You still left.” He looked away again. “When I woke up, you were gone.” 

I closed my eyes briefly. During exile, I had told myself he would understand one day because he was too young now, but eventually he would learn the truth. 

Standing here, I realized how little that mattered. Children didn't judge situations based on politics or pack laws; they judged them based on who stayed and who disappeared. 

“I had no choice,” I whispered. “The council ordered it.”

 Leo kicked lightly at the floor. “Aunt Vanessa stayed.” 

My chest ached. “Leo...” 

“She helped me when I was scared, she helped with my homework, she came to training, she stayed.”

 Every sentence felt like another stone being added to the weight already crushing my heart. I couldn't even blame him; everything he said was true.

I lowered myself onto a bench near the wall and struggled to keep my emotions under control.

 “Do you remember when you were little and used to fall asleep on my shoulder?” I asked. “Or when you made me carry you because you didn't want your feet touching the grass?” 

A small smile almost appeared on his face before disappearing again. “That was a long time ago.” 

I laughed quietly despite the pain. “It was that long.” 

“It feels long.” He finally sat across from me, leaving several feet between us. The distance felt intentional. “Everyone says Aunt Vanessa takes care of me better anyway.”

 The words knocked the air from my lungs. “Who says that?” I asked. 

Leo shrugged. “People.” 

I knew exactly what that meant;  it meant servants and the pack members, maybe even Vanessa herself. Small comments repeated often enough to become truth in a child's mind.

 “Do you think that too?” I asked carefully. Leo didn't answer right away. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet I almost missed it. “Dad is happier now.” I stared at him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“He smiles more.” 

Leo twisted the wooden figurine in his hands. “Before, you and Dad always argued; now he laughs more.” 

I felt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. Children noticed everything; they heard conversations adults thought were private, they remembered moments adults forgot. 

Maybe Darius had smiled more during the past year, or life really had been easier without me there to challenge him. The thought made me feel sick. 

“So you don't want me back?” 

I asked before I could stop myself. Leo's eyes widened slightly; he looked uncomfortable and guilty. Like he didn't know how to answer, then he said the one thing I would never forget for the rest of my life. 

“I think things were better before you came back.”

The hallway became painfully quiet after that. Leo looked down at his hands while I stared at him, unable to speak. Part of me wanted to tell myself he didn't mean it, that he was confused or someone had influenced him. 

But another part knew children rarely lied about their feelings. Maybe he would regret those words someday, or he wouldn't right now; they were real. I slowly stood from the bench and smoothed my hands over my clothes.

 My eyes burned, but I refused to cry in front of him. He had already made his choice, or perhaps the adults around him had made it for him long ago. Either way, the result was the same.

 “I understand,” I said quietly.

 Leo didn't look relieved or happy; he simply looked uncertain, like he sensed something important had changed between us. As I turned and walked away, the pain inside me settled into something colder. For an entire year, I had held onto the hope that returning home would fix everything.

 Tonight, that hope finally died, and for the first time since my exile began, I stopped wondering how to win my family back and started asking myself whether they were still my family at all.