The declaration was announced at dawn.
Lyra didn’t sleep.
She sat on the edge of the stone bed in Tyler’s quarters, listening to the compound wake around her. Boots against stone. Low voices. The controlled hum of a pack preparing for something that would change its balance, whether it wanted to or not.
War, or something close to it.
The bond pulsed steadily beneath her skin, no longer sharp with pain but heavy with awareness. Every movement outside seemed to echo through it. Every shift of Tyler’s presence in the room registered like a tightening wire.
He stood near the window, watching the courtyard below. He hadn’t spoken since returning from the council chamber.
“You’re really going to do this,” Lyra said quietly.
Tyler didn’t turn. “I said I would.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He
