LYRA'S REDEMPTION

BeneathTheMask

Chapter 004

Beneath the Mask

Octavius’s POV

Tension permeated the air, the kind that sank deep into your bones and made every action

intentional, every word like a well placed dagger. From the shadows, I watched Lyra stand by

herself, her silhouette shaking beneath the weight of what she had been asked to go through.

Her posture showed defiance even in her brokenness, a fire not yet extinguished.

The heat

lured me to her,

it made this game very exciting.

Though she was a piece in a far bigger plot, unlike the others she didn't realize it yet. Not

completely.

She thought of her own path, one that would lead her directly into the trap I had so

painstakingly designed, but I would be the one to send her on that road. She would never see it

approaching either.

I emerged from the shadows to establish my presence. Her eyes wide, she turned abruptly,

trying to hide the terror flickering there. decent. She would be off-balance and easier to handle

under fear.

"Who are you??" She insisted, her voice calm but slanted with mistrust.

I smiled at her most disarming manner—that which always softened the suspicious and

undermined the strong. Just someone who knows what it's like to be set aside, I murmured,

letting my words sink in.

"I watched what they did to Lyra. They are not worthy of you.

She blinked, surprise dancing over her face. "You...saw??"

I nodded and moved in closer to let my presence cover the area around her. " Lyra, I have seen

everything.

And I have enough experience to know you are stronger than they would ever

acknowledge.

Her shoulders straightened, the smallest hope flickering in her eyes. She would have liked to

trust me. demanded. Her weakness was this great need to be seen and to fit. I would help her to

become whatever I required of her.

She responded, her voice shaking somewhat, "I don't know who you are, but it doesn't matter." I

have stopped trying to prove myself to folks who will never see me for more than an omega.

Though the truth was her suffering was only a tool, I nodded, trying to comprehend. "You are

correct.

They have only ever aimed at demolishing you. But suppose I told you there was a

means to convert all that suffering into power? To illustrate exactly how incorrect they are?

She hesitated, and for a time I could see the wheels moving in her head as doubt germinated.

"Why would you be interested in supporting me?

From this, what do you get?

I stepped forward, lowering my voice to create almost conspiratorial intimacy. "Because I

understand how betrayed one feels by those most trusted. Having been where you are, I know

how to transform that suffering into power. Lyra, albeit you have to believe me.

Her determination wavers, and I could see her barriers beginning to fall apart. She was on the

brink, straddling the known from the seductive prospect of something more. I had to only give

her that last shove.

She responded, "I don't even know your name," and there it was—that split in her armor. She

was allowing me to enter already.

I said just, "Octavius," and offered my hand. And if you would let me, I will show you how to

become something better than they could have ever dreamed.

She stared at my extended palm for a long time, as though it had all the answers to the

questions she had not even ventured to ask. She gently laid her hand in mine then, and I knew I

had her.

From that point on, I moved deliberately and used well chosen words to provide her just enough

optimism without ever disclosing my actual intentions.

I fed her confidence, built her up, and

watched as the shattered girl I first met gradually changed to someone who felt she was

unstoppable.

Every high, though, had a bottom; every success came at a cost. Though I kept her close, let

her feel protected, even trusted, never let her forget who had given her this fresh sense of

authority.

She also provided what I needed in return: access to the pack's shortcomings, their

daily schedule, and most critically, a straight line to their secrets.

Though I was adept at this, it was a delicate dance that needed regular modification. Though I

held all the strings,

I was skilled in convincing others they were in charge. And Lyra was not

different either.

One evening I found her exactly where I knew she would be—pushing herself to her limits,

practicing the new moves I had taught her—as the sun sank below the horizon and threw the

training fields in shadows.

Driven by the same desperation that had gotten her to this point, she

was merciless.

I replied, resting on the fence and watching her land a perfect kick, "You're getting stronger."

"Impressed."

She stopped,

gasping heavily and a tiny smile playing on her lips. "I just try to keep up with

you."

That spark of appreciation there it was. I had seen it previously in others, but Lyra made it

almost too simple. I approached, narrowing the distance between us, and for the first time I let

my guard go, just enough to allow her to sense vulnerability.

You're more than just keeping up, I whispered, lowering my voice. "You surpass every

expectation."

Our eyes locked and I could see the change in that instant. She was beginning to view me as

something more than just a mentor or friend. And I understood just how to apply that to my

benefit.

She leaned in to me without thinking, her eyes looking at me for something I wasn't ready to

offer but would have been more than ready to pretend. Let her approach closely and let her

believe this was her decision, her time.

She inhaled "Octavius...," her voice hardly a whisper.

With light but deliberate touch, I swept a strand of hair from her face. Lyra, you no longer have

to be terrified. I murmured lightly.

"Not with me."

Then, just as she was about to cover the distance between us, I backed off just enough to keep

her desperate for more. Lyra was showing to be the most fulfilling task yet; this was a game I

had played many times before.

Right now, I would let her believe she was winning—that she was taking charge of her life, her

future.

Ultimately, though, each action she took was bringing her farther into my web, and when

the moment was right I would yank the rug out from under her and see as all she had believed

she had gained came tumbling down.

She knew the truth—that her strongest suit was nothing more than a well constructed illusion—

not too far off. I would also be there to tell her that every triumph, every bit of confidence, had

been given to her, not earned, when that moment arrived and she was most vulnerable.

And I would delete it all.

I started to grin as I watched her go, her form vanishing into the night. Lyra's breaking point

arrived and would be magnificent.

I would check to be sure