The Alpha's Silenced Mate의 모든 챕터: 챕터 11 - 챕터 20

Lyra's pov The knock on my door comes early enough that morning light is just starting to filter through the massive windows, soft and golden and nothing like the harsh wake-up calls I got used to in Silverpine where someone would bang on the door and yell until you stumbled out of bed. This knock is gentle, almost apologetic, and when I open the door the same maid from last night stands there with a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes."Luna," she says, and I'm still not used to that title, still flinch slightly every time someone uses it. "Beta Ryder is asking for you downstairs. He's waiting in the sitting room whenever you're ready."I nod to show I understand, confusion rising in my chest because why would Ryder want to see me? Did I do something wrong at dinner last night? Did the Alpha send him to tell me I've already failed at being an acceptable Luna? The maid bows slightly and leaves, and I stand in the doorway for a long moment trying to calm my racing heart

Lyra's pov The boy's scream cuts through the organized quiet of the healing house like a blade, raw and terrified and young, and before I'm even consciously aware of making the decision my body is already moving toward him with muscle memory that has nothing to do with thought and everything to do with years of training that got burned into my bones back when Healer Oswin first put a mortar and pestle in my hands and taught me that healing isn't just about knowing which herbs stop bleeding—it's about moving fast enough that the bleeding stops before it becomes death.The warriors carrying him are trying to be gentle but every movement makes him cry out again, and I can see from ten feet away that his left leg is twisted wrong, the angle suggesting not just a break but something more complicated, something that needs immediate attention before swelling and shock make everything worse.Vera is already moving, calling out orders to her apprentices in that sharp, efficient tone that good

Lyra's pov The walk back to my room feels longer than it should, every corridor stretching out endlessly while my mind replays the healing house over and over—the boy's leg, Vera's respect, Matthias's cold acknowledgment, the dangerous warmth of feeling useful for the first time since the silencing. By the time I reach my door my legs are shaking from exhaustion that's more emotional than physical, and all I want is to collapse onto that impossibly soft bed and let myself forget for a few hours that I'm trapped between impossible choices.I push open the door and step inside, letting it close behind me with a soft click that sounds too loud in the quiet room, and I'm halfway across to the bed when something catches my eye—a slight displacement of the pillows, nothing obvious but enough that my healer's training in noticing small details makes me freeze mid-step.Someone has been in my room.My heart starts hammering against my ribs as I approach the bed slowly, carefully, like it mig

Lyra's pov The town is nothing like Silverpine.Ryder drives us in one of the pack vehicles—a sleek black car that moves smoothly over roads that are actually maintained instead of being full of potholes—and as we get closer to the town center I can see buildings that are well-kept and businesses that look prosperous and wolves moving around with the same comfortable confidence I noticed in the pack house.Shopkeepers greet Ryder warmly, calling out his name and waving as we pass, and when we park and step out onto the main street several people notice me and bow slightly with respect that seems genuine rather than fearful."Luna," an elderly woman says as she passes, inclining her head with a small smile.Children stare with open curiosity rather than the terror I'm used to seeing on young faces back home, and their parents don't yank them away or scold them for looking—they just smile and continue whatever they were doing like having the Luna walk through town is unusual but not th

Lyra’s povThe healing house smells like lavender and dried rosemary, and for the first time since I arrived in this territory I feel something close to calm.Vera has me sorting through the herb stores—checking what needs restocking, separating dried bundles by potency and age, discarding anything that's lost its efficacy—and the work is familiar enough that my hands know what to do without me having to think too hard about it. Which is good. Because the part of my brain not occupied with cataloguing chamomile and wound-seal root is busy turning over the same questions it's been turning over since dawn.The report is gone.The window was open.Someone in this pack is watching me and I don't know who.I press my fingers into a bundle of dried yarrow and focus on the texture of it, the papery crinkle of petals that have been hanging long enough to lose their color but not their use. Vera moves behind me between the patient beds, her soft footsteps a rhythm I'm already starting to re