I felt the weight of it before I saw her, the faint tremor in the air, the hesitation in the pack around me.
Lyra.
She wasn’t just a shadow in my peripheral vision; she was a storm waiting to break, a mirror warped by someone else’s hands. The moment our eyes met, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. She looked almost fragile, almost innocent but I knew better. The scent of her was different, tainted with grooming, manipulation, and someone else’s design.
I stepped forward, and the pack seemed to part instinctively, their loyalty to me unquestioned yet uneasy. Derek stayed close, his presence a solid reminder of power restrained. Jax hovered behind me, restless, a barely-contained storm that mirrored the rage I felt at seeing Lyra standing there.
“You’ve been trained,” I said soft
