The Nightfang Den remained charged with a sense of relief following the successful rescue of the supply team. Lyra’s public demonstration had silenced the last pockets of skepticism, replacing doubt with a profound sense of awe. She was no longer just the Alpha’s mate; she was the indispensable Oracle.
Two hours had passed since the incident. Lyra was back in the Oracle Chamber, resting her mind before her next mandated communication window with Ronan. The constant, distant hum of the bond was her only link to the Alpha now, a steady, guiding light on the dark road ahead.
The iron bolt slid back with a quiet scrape as Beta Finn entered, looking calmer and more focused than he had in days. He carried two mugs of strong, black coffee.
“Oracle Lyra,” Finn said, setting one mug on the table
