Lyra’s POV
They say power comes dressed in silk and smiles.
Tonight, it came dressed in silver.
I stood before the mirror, the gown hugging my frame like it had been stitched from moonlight itself. My hair fell in dark, deliberate waves, each strand polished into perfection. My mother’s attendants circled me like bees around honey, fastening clasps, smoothing fabric, ensuring not a single thread dared to defy me.
But beneath all the glamour, my hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From hunger.
Because this wasn’t just a union. This wasn’t just marriage. This was conquest dressed as ceremony.
Kael. The infamous Alpha of Blackthorn. My soon-to-be husband.
The man who would bind our two packs with vows instead of claws, who would silence generations of bloodshed with a single kiss at the a
