LYRA’S POV
The leather cuffs are gone, but the mark they left feels deeper than skin. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at my hands. My own hands. I turn them over, studying the lines on my palms like they might hold a new answer.
This is me. This body. This… thing I am.
The thought doesn’t feel real. It sits in my head like a bad dream I can’t wake up from. A fated mate. To six men. Six werewolves. And not just any mate. Some… anomaly. A unifying bond. The words they used swirl around, heavy and strange.
But one part sticks, sharp as a knife.
I survived.
Those men in the van, the ones who took me from Iris… they weren’t just random bad guys. They were hunters. Looking for someone like me. And I got away. A little girl. How? Why me?
Was that the real reason she hated me? My own m
