The Fated Mate almost Missed

Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Lyra’s POV

The second Brian disappeared into the trees, the air shifted.

Like the earth itself had exhaled, leaving behind only the wreckage of what just happened.

I stood frozen, surrounded by the sound of wind and water. The stars above felt too bright, too exposed, like they were watching the mess I had made. My chest burned—shame, anger, confusion all tangled into a knot too tight to breathe through.

Behind me, Gavin hadn’t moved. I could feel his eyes on me, steady and unyielding. Not demanding, not possessive—just there. Waiting. Like he knew whatever came next would be mine to choose.

And I hated him for it.

I hated him for showing up. For making me feel things I had spent years burying. For throwing my world into chaos with one glance, one touch, one word: “mate.”

“Lyra.” His voice was low, careful.

“Don’t,” I said, turning to him. “Don’t say anything.”

He nodded once and looked away, jaw tightening like he had to swallow down every instinct telling him to reach for me.

I walked past him without another word, back toward the path home.

He followed, silent.

We didn’t speak again until the trees thinned and the edge of the pack compound came into view. The lights from the training field were still on, throwing long shadows over the dirt. Voices carried from somewhere deeper in the forest—hunters returning, patrols changing.

Home.

But it didn’t feel like home right now.

I stopped just before the edge of the treeline, breathing in the scent of pine and distant fire smoke. “You shouldn’t come any closer.”

Gavin paused beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat from his body.

“You think they’ll come after me?”

“No,” I said. “But they’ll come after me.”

I turned to look at him, really look at him.

The moonlight cut across his features—sharp jaw, messy dark hair, eyes like a midnight storm. He wasn’t just beautiful. He was dangerous. Everything about him was raw, magnetic, impossible to ignore.

And somehow, impossibly, he was mine.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“But I do,” I said. “You don’t understand, Gavin. My father arranged my engagement to Brian to keep the bloodlines strong, to maintain alliances, to prepare me to lead this pack. I’m not just some girl who gets to run off and follow her heart.”

“Then don’t run,” he said softly. “Stand. Fight. Choose.”

His words struck something deep.

Choose.

It sounded so simple. But the truth was, choosing him meant tearing my world apart.

And yet…

He stepped back, giving me space. “I’ll wait for you, Lyra. As long as it takes.”

The sincerity in his voice cut through the haze of guilt and fear that clung to me like fog. I believed him. Even though I didn’t want to.

I nodded once. Then I turned and walked back toward my house, the silence growing heavier with every step.

By the time I reached the front door, the weight of everything hit me like a storm.

Inside, the house was dark and cold. My father was still out at council, and the staff had retired hours ago. I slipped into my room and shut the door behind me, pressing my back to the wood.

Alone.

But my thoughts were anything but quiet.

Brian’s face haunted me—the betrayal in his eyes, the disbelief. We'd been raised side by side, childhood playmates turned political partners. Our engagement had been more duty than romance, but I knew he cared for me. Loved me, even.

And I cared for him too.

But I had never burned for him. Not like I burned for Gavin.

The bond wasn’t something I could ignore anymore. I could feel it now, humming under my skin, pulling me like a tide. Every cell in my body knew Gavin. Wanted him. Trusted him.

I clenched my fists, trying to fight the tears threatening to break free.

I didn’t ask for any of this.

And yet… a part of me, deep down, wondered if I’d always been waiting for it.

For him.

A knock at my door startled me. I froze, my heart racing.

“Lyra?” Brian’s voice was muffled, tight.

I hesitated.

Then opened the door.

He stood there, shirt wrinkled, hair disheveled, eyes shadowed. Vulnerable in a way I wasn’t used to seeing.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

I stepped aside.

He walked in and stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest, gaze not quite meeting mine. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve known something was changing in you since he got here. I felt it. The distance. The way your eyes wander when you think I’m not watching.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” I said.

“I know.” He looked at me now, really looked. “But you have.”

I nodded slowly. “I know.”

He walked to the window, staring out into the night. “Do you love him?”

The question stole my breath.

Did I?

I didn’t know him well enough. Not yet. But I felt him in a way I never had with anyone else. The connection wasn’t built—it was born. Immediate. Unshakable.

“I don’t know what I feel,” I said honestly. “But it’s not something I can ignore.”

Brian was silent for a long time.

Then he turned, shoulders sagging. “If you choose him... I won’t stand in your way. But you owe it to yourself, to this pack, to be sure.”

Tears stung the backs of my eyes. “Thank you.”

He walked to the door, then paused. “But Lyra... if he hurts you, I will come for him.”

“I know,” I whispered.

He left.

And for the first time in weeks, I curled up in bed and cried—not from fear or guilt, but because something inside me was beginning to change.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.

But I knew this:

I couldn’t keep living a life that wasn’t mine.

And I couldn’t keep pretending that fate hadn’t found me.