All Chapters of Lyra, His Second Chance Mate: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Lyra’s POVThe morning air felt heavier than frost or winter winds could explain. Lyra stood by her window, arms folded tight across her chest, watching as banners unfamiliar and familiar alike lined the Blackstone courtyard. Deep reds, silvers, and greens marked packs she’d once only heard of in whispered lessons.But they weren’t here for her. They’d gathered because Blackstone had no Alpha.Caden, the one who had ruled through fear and manipulation, was gone now. Executed by Kane’s after the trial. The council had to choose who would lead Blackstone next.And yet, her name would still be in their mouths. She was nervous. A knock broke the silence. She already knew who it was. She could sense him through the bond.“Come in,” she said quietly.Kane stepped inside. Formal black layered with a dark coat embroidered in silver thread. His crest was pinned to his shoulder, but it wasn’t armor. There was nothing showy about him. Just quiet authority.“Most of the envoys crossed the border

Kane’s POVThe room was quiet except for the slow crackle of the hearth and the soft rustle of parchment in Lyra’s hands.Kane leaned against the edge of the worn desk, arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching her with a stillness few ever saw in him. His coat lay tossed over the chair. The firelight painted the scar on his jaw in soft gold. But his eyes - those molten, golden eye - were fixed only on her.She sat on the bed, knees drawn up, the shawl still around her shoulders. The wolf carving her father had made rested on the folded blanket beside her. She hadn’t let go of it for more than a breath.Kane didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He could feel everything she was holding just beneath her skin - the grief, the memory, the fragile hope.Then her fingers moved, unfolding the letter.He saw her breath hitch.The paper was delicate. Ink faded at the corners, but the hand was unmistakable - elegant, curved with the strength of someone who had never been allowed to speak loudly,

Lyra POVJust as they passed the edge of the clearing, Lyra halted.“The journal,” she whispered.Kane paused beside her, brows drawing together. “What?”She turned back toward the porch, heart thudding for a different reason now. The journal. In the chaos - the blood, the kiss, the magic - she’d left it behind.She ran lightly through the snow, breath quick in her throat, and spotted it near the edge of the porch steps, half-buried in slush.She crouched and reached for it, fingers brushing away the wet flakes. The leather cover was damp but intact, the pages still sealed with her mother’s scent.But as she lifted it, something slipped free from between the pages and fluttered to the wooden boards.A folded piece of parchment.She blinked and picked it up. It wasn’t a letter. It was a map.Old. Faded at the edges. Markings in a familiar hand. Her mother’s.Lyra smoothed it open carefully across her thighs.There - between the curves of the hills and forest lines - was a clearing marke

Lyra POVThey made camp just after dusk, in a hollow ringed by trees and stone. The fire crackled in the center, sending sparks into the dark canopy overhead. Horses were tied, the scouts posted a perimeter, and the air held that deep, ancient silence that meant they were far - too far - from any village.Lyra sat beside Kane, her knees pulled to her chest, the warmth of the flames licking across her face.Thorne crouched on a flat rock, sharpening his blade with lazy precision. Valeria leaned back against a fallen log, arms crossed, one leg tucked beneath her.No one spoke for a long while.Then Valeria said, “I don’t like the quiet.”Kane raised a brow. “You usually are the quiet.”“Not this kind. The woods feel like they’re holding their breath.”Thorne glanced at Lyra. “Still feeling that pulse?”She nodded. “It’s stronger now. Closer. Like something is... waiting.”Kane’s arm slid across her shoulders, grounding her. “We’ll find it. Together.”Thorne gave him a look. “Getting real

The east wing of Blackstone Keep was colder than the rest. Quiet, and carved from older stone - untouched by Caden’s corruption, but heavy with its own ghosts.Lyra walked beside Kane, the pendant warm against her chest and the journal pressed tight beneath her arm. Guards stationed outside the chamber door straightened at their approach but made no move to interfere. One of them opened the door without a word.Bastian stood at the far end of the room, shirtless still, the faintly glowing runes on his skin a quiet reminder that he was not like other men.He turned before they spoke, as if he had heard them coming long before their footsteps echoed on the stone.“You read it,” he said.Kane’s voice was clipped. “We did.”Lyra stepped forward, not hiding the journal in her arms. “You were waiting for me. Because of the stones. Because of the prophecy.”Bastian inclined his head slightly. “Your mother believed in it more than anyone I’ve ever known.”Lyra’s heart beat faster. “Then tell m