Lyra POV
The bedroom felt like a cage after Darius left, his scent—leather and pine—lingering like a ghost, haunting the air even as I tried to banish it. My heart still raced, a frantic drum echoing the storm of emotions that had torn through me—fear, guilt, the treacherous pull of my she-wolf toward Darius, and the fierce, unshakable love for Jaxon that anchored me.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands trembling, the linens still tangled from my near fall, my wedding ring a cold weight on my finger, Jaxon’s mark at my neck pulsing with a quiet ache. The Silverthorn Pack’s mansion stirred around me, the faint creak of floorboards and murmur of voices signaling the pack’s awakening, but I felt adrift, caught between the life I’d chosen and the mate bond I couldn’t fully silence.
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