RonanFor a brief second, the image flashed through my mind again—Seeing Lyra helpless, drugged, and unable to fight back while some disgusting bastard took advantage of her.No...Someone was definitely going to pay for that… The only question was how much.Before either of us could say another word, voices drifted from somewhere in the east garden.Drunken laughter.Followed by pleading.Caleb and I exchanged a glance.Without another word, we slipped into the shadows.There, beneath the pale moonlight, stood a man wearing the crest of IronClaw Pack… a visiting emissary.He staggered with every unsteady step, the pungent stench of alcohol reaching us long before his drunken figure came into full view.An omega maid struggled desperately against his grip as he clutched her wrist and dragged her along behind him. Tears streamed down her face, her frightened pleas trembling through the quiet night."Please..." she sobbed, digging her heels into the ground in a futile attempt to break
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