Awakening In Exile
657 Words
The city smelled of smoke and rain, the sharp tang of iron in the streets mixing with the faint hum of distant traffic. Lyra Ashbourne woke with a start, her head pounding, muscles stiff from the cramped backseat.
Her hands shot to her chest instinctively. The silver-black light that had flared at the boundary stone still pulsed faintly beneath her skin. It was quieter now, but alive. Persistent. Patient.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to sit upright. The stranger driving the car—Darius Vane—kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tight, expression unreadable. His golden gaze flicked toward her occasionally, sharp and appraising.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Good. That makes things easier.”
Lyra’s throat tightened. “Where… where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere you’ll be safe,” he replied. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “For now, at least. You’re a valuable asset. And a dangerous one.”
Lyra’s pulse quickened. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, curious, wary, and restless. She had always felt small, unremarkable—but the events of the past night had shattered that. Something inside her had changed. Something older. Something stronger.
“I don’t want… I don’t want anyone,” she said quietly. “Especially not him.”
Darius’s eyes flicked to her, a flash of something—respect, amusement, maybe both—crossing his face. “Kael Nightfell?” he asked. “The Alpha King?”
Lyra’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s… he’s dead to me.”
Darius chuckled softly. “He might be dead to you, but he’s alive to the bond.” His gaze was steady, almost predatory. “And the bond doesn’t forget.”
Lyra shivered. It was true. Even after rejection, the bond throbbed faintly, a stubborn echo that refused to fade. Her wolf was uneasy—restless, angry, like a caged animal sensing the presence of its mate.
The car turned sharply into a narrow alleyway, then onto a deserted rooftop parking lot. Darius stopped and killed the engine. The silence of the city night pressed in around them, broken only by the occasional distant siren.
“Where are we?” Lyra asked cautiously.
“Somewhere nobody can touch you for a while,” he said. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a small, black duffel bag, tossing it toward her. “Clothes. Food. Everything you’ll need until we figure out the next step.”
Lyra caught the bag, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why are you helping me?”
Darius leaned against the car, arms crossed, golden eyes glinting in the dim light. “Because if Kael Nightfell ever loses control, he’ll come looking for you. And if he finds you unprepared…” He let the words hang in the air. “Let’s just say it won’t end well.”
Lyra’s heart pounded. The thought of him—cold, relentless, perfect—made her chest ache. Pain, fear, and something darker mixed together, knotting in her stomach. She had thought she hated him. She had thought she had left him behind.
But the bond… the bond had not been silenced.
Her wolf growled low in her mind. He’s coming.
Lyra forced herself to take a deep breath, gripping the duffel bag. “I’ll survive,” she whispered, more to herself than to Darius. “I have to.”
Darius studied her silently for a long moment, then nodded. “Good,” he said finally. “Because the night is just beginning, and you’ll need every ounce of strength you have. Kael Nightfell does not take rejection lightly.”
Lyra swallowed, her hands tightening around the strap of the bag. The city stretched around her like a maze of shadows and secrets. And somewhere, far away, the Alpha who had cast her aside roared silently in frustration, sensing her survival.
The hunt had begun.
- Writer
