The Hybrid

Chapter 40

Ryder woke to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains. He reached over, instinctively searching for Kyra to pull her closer, but his hand met only cool, empty sheets. His eyes shot open as he sat up, scanning the room.

“Kyra?” he called out, but there was no answer.

Throwing the covers off, Ryder got up and slipped into fresh clothes—a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his brow furrowed with concern, before heading out into the hallway.

As he turned the corner, he spotted Gregory stretching and yawning, his arms raised high above his head. Gregory’s bleary eyes snapped to Ryder, widening slightly.

“Ryder? You’re up already? And healed?” Gregory asked, his voice tinged with surprise. “How the hell did you recover from that? Vampire wounds don’t just… go away.”

Ryder hesitated, feeling a slight heat rise to his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “Kyra healed me. Something about her saliva… it has healing properties.”

Gregory froze mid-stretch, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. His eyes widened further, a grin slowly creeping across his face. “Wait a second.” He sniffed again, more deliberately this time. “Why do you… reek of s*x and—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw dropping. “No way. You had s*x with Kyra!” he whispered, his voice full of incredulous glee.

“Shh!” Ryder hissed, glancing around the hallway to ensure no one else was listening. Despite his effort to keep a straight face, a small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

Gregory smirked, clearly enjoying Ryder’s embarrassment. “So… did you, you know, claim her?”

Ryder shook his head, his expression sobering. “No, it’s complicated. I’m not sure what would happen to me since she’s a hybrid. For now, we’re just… taking it slow.”

Gregory gave an understanding nod, clapping Ryder on the back. “Probably smart. Still, must’ve been one hell of a night,” he teased with a wink.

Ryder rolled his eyes, steering the conversation to more pressing matters. “Have you heard from Helen? Did anyone make it out safe?”

Gregory’s playful demeanor faded, his face darkening as he sighed. “A few made it out, according to her. She said the wolves and vampires were slaughtering people in the streets. But most of them managed to escape to the allied packs.”

Ryder’s jaw tightened as Gregory continued. “We need to lay low until we figure out our next move.”

“Why?” Ryder asked, his brows knitting together.

Gregory inhaled deeply, his expression grim. “They’re after your head, Ryder. Anyone who refuses to give up our location is being killed. Worse, they’re hunting anyone who hid Kyra, anyone loyal to her.”

Ryder clenched his fists, his breath steady but full of tension. “They must be stopped. I hate to say it, but I might have to contact the elders. Maybe Rodrick made it out alive and can help.”

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass echoed from down the hall, freezing them both in place. Ryder and Gregory exchanged a tense look before bolting toward the source of the noise.

The sharp sound of shattering glass jolted everyone awake. Kyle, Amber, Allie, and Ethan spilled into the hallway, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and looking panicked.

“What happened?” Amber asked, her voice trembling.

Ryder didn’t stop, rushing past them with Gregory hot on his heels. “I don’t know,” Gregory said over his shoulder. “Stay back!”

The group followed cautiously, but what they saw when they reached the dining room stopped them all in their tracks.

Kyra stood in the center of the room, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in her hand. Empty bottles littered the floor around her, some smashed into jagged shards. Her bloodied fingers clutched a large piece of glass, which she dragged across her palm, slicing deep into her skin. Blood poured down her hand and soaked her clothes, but the cuts healed almost instantly, leaving smooth, unblemished skin behind.

She staggered, muttering under her breath as she grabbed another bottle and chugged it like water, tossing the empty aside with a loud crash.

Ryder felt her emotions hit him like a tidal wave—anguish, rage, sorrow, despair—all flooding into him at once. It took his breath away, his chest tightening with her pain. He slowly stepped forward, his voice soft but full of concern.

“What are you doing, my love?” he asked, his heart breaking at the sight of her.

Kyra’s body swayed, her movements sluggish and erratic. She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She drove the shard of glass so deep into her hand that blood squirted across the bar table, but the wound closed as quickly as it had appeared.

She let out a bitter scoff. “What does it look like I’m doing?” she slurred, her tone low and uneven.

Her hollow laughter filled the room as she threw the shard across the room and reached for another bottle. She downed the whiskey in seconds, letting it fall to the ground with a crash.

“I just found out,” she said, her voice cracking, “that my whole existence is a lie.”

Ryder’s breath hitched. Seeing her like this—so broken—was unbearable. “What do you mean?” he asked softly.

Everyone else stood frozen behind him, their gazes darting between each other, unsure if they should intervene.

Kyra hiccuped, her dark laughter filling the room again. “I mean,” she said, gesturing dramatically, “that my whole life was planned out for me before I was even born.” She slammed her hands down on the bar, making the bottles rattle. “And I’m part of some goddamn prophecy where I’m either the savior or the villain.”

She mimed claws with her hands, her voice dripping with venom as she emphasized, “Villain.”

She grabbed a vodka bottle next and downed it in one go, slamming it onto the counter.

Ryder took another cautious step forward. “Kyra, love…”

But she cut him off, drunkenly reciting the prophecy. Her voice grew more unsteady as she swayed on her feet, eventually collapsing against the bar.

“That’s why Wyatt’s so obsessed,” she muttered, her words slurring. “He wants to claim me… to share my power.” She laughed darkly and reached for a bottle of tequila, wincing as she swallowed it down.

Ryder approached slowly, his hands open and non-threatening. “Kyra,” he said gently, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart. “I promised you—he will never take you again.”

As soon as his hand touched her shoulder, she spun to face him, tears streaming down her face. Her voice was cold and sharp as she asked, “Let me ask you a hypothetical question, Ryder.” She staggered slightly, locking eyes with him.

“If we weren’t mates, and you had to pick a chosen… would you choose me? Knowing what I am?” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. “An abomination built for destruction?”

Ryder froze. Her emotions hit him like a sledgehammer—raw, unfiltered, and devastating. It overwhelmed him, his own tears rising unbidden.

He looked into her eyes, seeing the depths of her pain, her self-loathing, and the fragile hope buried beneath it all.

His voice trembled as he spoke. “Kyra,” he began, his words filled with conviction. “You are not an abomination. You are not a curse, or destruction, or anything they say you are. What I feel for you…” He took a shaky breath. “It’s more than just a mate bond. It’s you. Everything about you. Your strength, your heart, your fire. I’ve never felt this way about anyone—not even my first mate. You’re my choice, Kyra. Always.”

Kyra stood there, swaying slightly, her eyes locked on his. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to believe him. But the weight of her fears and doubts pressed heavily on her.

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Kyra’s knees buckled, and she collapsed into Ryder’s arms.

Ryder moved quickly, catching Kyra before she hit the ground. She was a dead weight in his arms, her body limp and her breathing heavy from the alcohol. He held her close, cradling her protectively as his heart ached for the torment she was drowning in.

Turning toward the others, he glanced at Gregory, his voice low but firm. “Clean this up before the humans see it.”

Gregory nodded without hesitation, motioning for the others to help as Ryder carried Kyra down the hall.

He pushed the door to their room open with his foot, stepping inside and carefully maneuvering her toward the bed. Kyra stirred slightly but didn’t wake as Ryder gently laid her down. Her face was soft in sleep, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that had consumed her moments before.

He pulled the blankets over her, tucking her in with a tenderness that surprised even himself. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he brushed a strand of her dark hair away from her face, his fingers lingering for a moment.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips close to her ear and whispered softly, “I love you, Kyra.”

For a moment, he stayed there, watching her sleep, the weight of her pain still heavy in the room. But in her stillness, he felt a flicker of hope. She wasn’t alone anymore. He would remind her of that every day if he had to.