Chapter 8

LYRA POV

My senses come back to me slowly. Everything hurts, from my fatigued muscles to my bruised limbs, tiny cuts scattered across my arms and legs after carelessly running through the forest. I also have a terrible headache. And to top it all off, it seems my wolf is still hibernating, her presence still faint and distant, dormant deep within me. But that seems unimportant as questions start to flood my mind.

Am I dead? No, I’d like to think the afterlife wouldn’t be this painful. Yet how could I still be alive? That huge, monstrous beast… I was sure it was ready to eat me. Unless maybe it was never even real, just a product of an exhausted, adrenaline-filled mind.

In an attempt to understand what was going on, I forced my heavy eyelids open. The first sight that greeted me was an endless expanse of white. For a moment, I wondered if I could really be in the afterlife. Then my vision came into focus, and I realized my pristine surroundings were composed of bright lights and ivory walls—not ethereal moonlight like the kind that supposedly bathes the Moon Kingdom where wolves go after passing.

Wait.

I should be in the forest… But this is clearly not a forest.

Where in the Crescent am I?!

I jolt up in a panic, scanning the room in desperate confusion. My hands land on something soft—sheets and a mattress. Or, better yet, a medical bed. There’s an IV connected to my arm, and the sight only heightens my hysteria.

Could I be back at Shadow Lake? Did Lucien find me after I passed out?

Dread settles into my bones, but before it can take hold, a female dressed in white steps into the room.

“Oh! You’re awake,” she exclaims, sounding relieved. “I feared the worst when your heart rate started rising. How are you feeling?”

I blink a couple of times, still trying to make sense of the situation I find myself in. Instinctively, I sniff the air, catching her scent, and immediately confirm that she’s not from Shadow Lake. She doesn’t smell like the wolves in my pack. A flicker of relief eases my tension, but only briefly. Because I still have no idea where I am.

“I’m… okay,” I reply at last, my voice low and confused.

“That’s good to hear.” The nurse smiles sympathetically. “You didn’t sustain any head injuries. All you had were a few scrapes, which we took care of, and mild dehydration.”

So that’s what the IV is for, I realize.

Shaking my head, I finally ask, “Where are we? How did you find me?” My head throbs as I force myself to remember the most recent events. “There was this enormous wolf, and then…”

A chuckle escapes her, and it catches my attention instantly.

“The enormous wolf you saw is none other than the Lycan King,” she reveals, and my heart stops.

Lycan King? As in Theron Thorne, the powerful and ruthless king of the entire werewolf realm?! It couldn’t be.

If she’s telling me the truth… That means I escaped a monster just to run straight into the den of an even more dangerous one.

Everyone fears King Theron. One of the last living descendants of the powerful Lycans, the species that originated the wolf shifters, he is faster, stronger, and more vicious than any of us. And he’s also the maximum authority in our world, bearing the power and right to destroy any pack. Not even an Alpha could ever stand up to him, and they would die if they tried.

Shit. I need to get out of here fast.

“Well, thanks for your hospitality. I appreciate you taking care of me,” I say, trying and failing to keep the nervousness out of my voice. “Now that I’m feeling better, I must take my leave and stop burdening you.”

Yet just as I begin standing up, the nurse rushes over to me, gently placing a hand on my chest to keep me in place. “You are recovered and free to go,” she informs me, though I anticipate a ‘but’—and soon it comes. “However, Beta Adrian would like to have a word with you first.”

A chill rushes through me.

Great. Now I had to make it past the King’s second-in-command.

“O-of course,” I stutter, forcing a smile.

The nurse carefully removes my IV access, making sure I’m in good enough shape before leaving the room. Not even a minute after she’s gone, a tall, broad-shouldered man with short-cropped brown hair and deep chocolate eyes walks in. His expression is serious and disciplined—intimidating, but not nearly as much as the King.

When he stops by my bed, studying me with his eyes, I avoid his gaze and try to remember to keep breathing.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, and his deep voice echoes through the room.

I take a moment, searching for my courage before replying, “Better. I apologize for any troubles I might have caused. If you don’t mind, I’ll be—”

“Who were you running from?” he cuts me off, and I freeze.

“Sorry?” I say, lower than I’d intended as fear courses through me.

“You passed out from exhaustion, and you were dehydrated,” he clarifies. “It’s obvious you’d been running non-stop for a long time. No one drives themselves to such extremes… Unless they’re trying to escape something.”

I swallow dry. What could I say? If I tell him I’m an Omega from Shadow Lake—and no less than the Alpha’s runaway mate—he would send me back to Lucien. But if I lie, I risk being caught and executed for pissing off the royal right hand. And the more I think, the more I look suspicious.

“You’re right,” I sigh at last. “I was running from my past. Chasing a better life for myself. You see, I was born a rogue, and it isn’t easy for us out there,” I say as evenly as I can, striving to sell the story.

Adrian crosses his arms in front of his chest. “A born rogue,” he repeats, as if testing the words to see if they sound true. “Your name?”

“Lyra, Sir,” I answer simply.

He arches an eyebrow. “Just Lyra?”

I nod. “Rogues don’t have the luxury of a surname.”

He narrows his eyes just slightly, and I tense up. For a moment, none of us breathe, the tension in the room so sharp you could cut it with a knife. Then, his shoulder loosen and he exhales.

“Well, Lyra the rogue… Today might just be your lucky day,” he offers, and I cock my head. Before I can ask any questions, he goes on, “Since the Lycan King rescued you himself, I believe he would be more than willing to welcome you into our kingdom. Call it your chance at the better life you’re seeking.”

My eyes widen, both in surprise and hesitation. “What?” I whisper, the word barely audible.

“Mm-hmm.” He nods, uncrossing his arms to turn his back at me. Over his shoulder, he delivers the bottom line: “You just need to prove to him that you’re worthy of staying first.”

This time, I can’t hide my fear.

In my attempt to evade a beast far more dangerous than my own mate, I end up carving a path straight to him.