I Never Meant to Be His Luna

Chapter 26 – rust and routine

The patrol truck coughed at her like it personally resented being asked to live.

Lyra lay on her back under its belly, a cold drip of something unpleasant making its patient way down her forearm. The garage was warm around her—sun through high windows, low music from Theo’s speakers, the distant thud of someone working the heavy bag outside.

“You know,” she told the truck, “if you die again, I’m letting Luka tow you with a rope and bad intentions.”

A head ducked into her field of vision, upside down.

“I heard that,” Luka said. “And I resent the implication that my intentions are ever bad.”

“Your driving is a war crime,” she said, not looking up. “Hand me the ten-mil socket.”

He passed it obediently. “It’s not my fault the shocks can't handle a little fun.”

“You jump the north ditch one more time and I’m fitting this thing with a speed limiter,” she said, tightening the bolt. “Then we’ll see how much fun you have.”

He shuddered theatrically. “That’s cruel.”

“Ask the suspension,” she muttered.

From the corner, Theo’s voice piped up. “For the record, installing a limiter might actually—”

“Theo,” Sienna snapped. “If you touch that engine with software before Lyra’s done with hardware, I will weld your tablet to your hands.”

Theo subsided with a squeak.

Lyra smiled to herself. The rhythm of it—bickering, the clink of tools, the smell of oil and wolf—settled her in ways she hadn’t expected. No Council, no formal speeches, just metal and problems she could actually fix with her hands.

“Okay,” she said, sliding out from under the truck. “Try it now.”

Luka hopped into the driver’s seat, turned the key. The engine grumbled, then caught with a smoother, less suicidal purr.

“Yes,” he said, reverent. “She lives.”

“Don’t insult her by calling that ‘living,’” Lyra said, wiping her hands. “But she’ll get you through patrol without shedding crucial organs.”

Luka beamed. “You’re magic.”

“I’m experienced,” she corrected. “Magic is what Isolde does when you piss her off.”

“Accurate,” Isolde said, appearing in the doorway with a box of something that smelled like herbs and threats. “Atlas wants the outer totems recalibrated this afternoon. You free after you bully that poor machine?”

Lyra checked the mental list she’d been building since breakfast. “Truck, then sensors on the south line, then I’m yours.”

“Good,” Isolde said. “I need a pair of hands that understand subtlety. And someone who can lift the heavy stones without her back complaining.”

“That’s age, not magic,” Lyra said.

Isolde sniffed. “Disrespectful child.”

When the witch wandered off, Luka leaned out the window. “Hey, Lyra?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…” He faltered, ears reddening under his hair. “Are you staying? Like. For real. Not just ‘until the next contract.’”

Sienna went very still over by the workbench. Theo froze mid-sip of coffee.

Lyra’s first instinct was to throw up a joke like a shield.

Her wolf stopped her.

“I don’t have a departure date,” she said instead. “That’s a first.”

Luka’s grin flashed. “Good.”

“Don’t go soft on me,” she added. “You still owe me three clean patrol reports and a full week without denting anything.”

“I make no promises,” he said cheerfully, gunning the engine just enough to make her wince.

She smacked the hood. “Get out of my garage.”

He laughed and drove out, gravel spitting under the tires.

Sienna wiped her hands on a rag, watching the door swing shut behind him. “You know that kid worships the ground you walk on now.”

“He worships anyone who keeps his ride from exploding,” Lyra said.

“Mm,” Sienna said, unconvinced.

Theo sidled closer, tablet hugged to his chest. “For what it’s worth,” he said, eyes on his shoes, “if you…uh…weren’t staying, I’d have to rewrite half the failsafes. And I really don’t want to do that. So. Selfishly. I’m glad.”

Lyra stared at him. “That might be the nerdiest declaration of affection I’ve ever received.”

He flushed. “Shut up.”

Warmth bloomed low in her chest, unexpected and fierce. “Noted,” she said. “Now show me the logs from last night. I want to see if our little theater at the ravine is still playing to an audience.”

He brightened instantly, spinning the tablet around. “Actually, there’s something you need to see.”

They bent over the screen together. Grainy night footage showed the familiar choke point, the faint shimmer of wards, the “visible” patrol pattern they’d decided on. Two dark shapes paced just beyond range, then pulled back. A third lingered at the edge for a heartbeat longer before slipping out of frame.

“That one,” Lyra said, tapping. “That’s new.”

“Same scent profile as before,” Theo said. “But the way they move…”

“Less sure,” Sienna said, looking over his shoulder. “Less like a wolf on a mission, more like someone questioning orders.”

Lyra’s wolf pricked its ears.

“Silas isn’t the only one watching us anymore,” she murmured. “Good.”

Sienna frowned. “Good?”

“If they’re seeing what we’re building and starting to doubt,” Lyra said, straightening, “that’s how things really change. Not with Council decrees. With quiet questions in the wrong pack at the right time.”

Theo’s eyes went wide. “You think…?”

“I think we keep doing what we’re doing,” she said. “Loud enough that the ones creeping around our borders can hear us. Smart enough that if they come closer, they don’t find a trap—they find a door.”

Sienna studied her. “You sound like a Luna,” she said.

Lyra made a face. “Rude.”

“Accurate,” Sienna shot back, echoing Isolde’s tone.

Before Lyra could respond, Cassian’s voice came over the internal radio. “Lyra, you in the garage?”

“Unfortunately,” she said, thumbing the mic. “What broke now?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Yet. Want to take a ride with me on the inner trail? No crisis. Just…walk and talk.”

Theo waggled his eyebrows. Sienna smacked him with the rag.

Lyra rolled her eyes, but her wolf was already moving toward the idea, tail up.

“Give me five minutes,” she said into the radio. “Then you can bore me with your route plans.”

“Deal,” Cassian said.

She hung the radio back on its hook, grabbed a cleaner shirt from the peg, and headed for the door, leaving the smell of oil and warm metal behind.

Work, then wards, then a patrol that wasn’t just about danger.

A life that wasn’t just about survival.

It felt, she realized as she stepped into the sunlight, suspiciously like living.