All Chapters of Lyra, His Second Chance Mate: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Lyra’s POVA sharp chill bit into Lyra’s bare feet as she slipped through the shadows, clutching a threadbare blanket to her chest. The night was damp, heavy with the scent of river water and pine, but it was the only time she could breathe. No footsteps. No commands. No blows.She winced as her soles met jagged roots on the narrow trail behind the pack house, but she didn’t stop. The bruises on her arms throbbed in protest, but pain was familiar now - almost comforting. What mattered was the moonlight ahead, silver and cold, dancing over the river that marked the edge of the territory.Her sanctuary.She stepped into the icy water with a gasp. It burned against scraped skin but offered a strange relief. She crouched, letting the current wash over her arms, scrubbing away the dirt and dried blood of another day spent bowing and bleeding.But some stains went deeper than skin.Her reflection in the water was a stranger - hollow eyes, tangled hair, a faint bruise darkening her cheek. Ser

Lyra’s POVDarkness clung to her like a second skin.Somewhere far away, a door creaked open. Soft footsteps. The rustle of cloth. A quiet breath.But Lyra couldn’t lift her head. Pain burned beneath her skin, deep and cold. Her body was leaden, her thoughts thick as fog. Even breathing hurt.“Child…” a voice whispered. Gentle. Female.Warm fingers brushed hair from her face.Evelyn.Lyra couldn’t open her eyes, but she knew the healer’s scent - mint tea and dried lavender. A memory of safety.“They left you like this,” Evelyn murmured, voice trembling. “Gods forgive them.”Cool water touched her arm. The sting of salve followed. Bandages pressed gently against open wounds.Lyra didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Her mind drifted in and out like a half-finished dream.She was twelve again, sitting on her father’s lap beside the fire. He was tracing constellations in the air with his finger.“One day,” he’d said, “you’ll rise above all of this. There’s a strength in you, Lyra. They can’t snuff it

Kane’s POVKane carried her in silence.She was weightless in his arms - too light, too still. Every step through the Blackstone halls scraped against his control like a blade. His wolf paced beneath his skin, snarling at the bruises, at the scent of dried blood, at the way her head lolled against his chest.She had been broken. And they’d left her to die in the dark.No one said a word as he passed. Pack members shrank back, eyes wide. The scent of fear followed him like a shadow.“Prepare a room,” he barked to the nearest servant. “Now. Clean. Warm. Safe.”The servant bolted down the corridor.Thorne appeared beside him, breathless. “The healer’s waiting.”Kane nodded, then pushed open the door to the best guest chamber. Firelight flickered to life as he crossed the threshold. He laid Lyra down carefully, gently brushing matted hair from her face.She didn’t stir.“Penelopa,” he said, turning to his personal healer. “Now.”The middle-aged woman stepped forward without hesitation, a s

Lyra’s POVThe walls didn’t press in. The windows weren’t barred. And no one stood over her with cruel eyes and silver chains.Still, Lyra's hands trembled as she sat up in the bed.Her body ached, but the fire wasn’t sharp anymore. Just a dull reminder that she had survived. Again.She reached for the robe Evelyn had left folded at the end of the bed. Her fingers fumbled with the tie, and frustration twisted in her gut. Her strength still hadn’t returned. Even that small truth stung.A soft knock.She flinched, breath caught. “It’s me. Kane.”She swallowed. “Come in.”The door opened, and the Lycan prince stepped through, quiet and calm. With a tray on his hands. Today he wore no armor - just a dark shirt rolled at the sleeves, his hair tousled like he hadn’t slept much. His golden eyes swept over her, lingering briefly at the way she sat, legs pulled close, arms wrapped tight.He didn’t speak right away.Instead, he walked to the window and opened it, letting in a breeze. Forest air

Lyra’s POVThe next morning came quietly. No screaming. No metal doors. No pain.Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains. The bed was soft. The scent of herbs and fresh linens clung to the air.Lyra sat up slowly, still marveling at the absurd normalcy of waking without fear. Her ribs ached less. Her skin felt cleaner, firmer, like her body was finally remembering how to heal.There was a soft knock.“Come in,” she said.Evelyn stepped into the room with a small wooden box tucked in her arms. Her eyes, always kind, looked heavier today.“You’re healing quickly,” the healer said with a small smile.“Because of the salve?” Lyra asked.Evelyn hesitated. “Because of more than that.”She placed the box gently on the bed and sat at the edge of the mattress, folding her hands.“There’s something I’ve kept from you,” she said quietly. “Something your parents made me swear to hide. Until the time was right.”Lyra’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”Evelyn opened the box. Inside was a worn, se