The Alpha Who Lost Control
376 Words
Darius dreamed of Lyra every night.
But this time, she did not reach for him.
She stood beside another Alpha—head high, eyes bright, power rolling off her in waves. The image twisted something ugly inside his chest.
“She was mine,” Darius snarled.
“No,” his wolf answered bitterly. “She was fate. And you broke it.”
He woke with a roar.
By nightfall, he was back at Bloodmoon’s border.
Alaric was waiting.
“You’re persistent,” Alaric said calmly.
“I’m not leaving without her,” Darius growled.
“You’re not leaving at all,” Alaric replied—and this time, he did not hold back.
Their clash shook the forest.
Lyra felt it instantly.
She ran.
By the time she reached them, both Alphas were bloodied, power crackling violently through the air.
“Stop!” she cried.
Alaric froze immediately.
Darius did not.
That was his mistake.
Alaric slammed him into the ground, knee pressing into his chest, fangs flashing—not biting, but close enough to promise death.
“She chose,” Alaric snarled. “And you lost.”
Lyra stepped forward, heart pounding. “It’s over, Darius.”
He stared at her, something broken and frantic in his eyes. “You belong with me.”
“No,” she said softly. “I belong to myself.”
Alaric rose and moved to her side, his arm coming around her without hesitation. The contact sent heat spiraling through her.
Darius saw it.
Understood it.
And shattered.
When he fled, the forest fell silent.
Alaric looked down at Lyra, breathing heavy. “You should be afraid of me right now.”
She tilted her head up. “I’m not.”
His hand slid to her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip. The touch was intimate. Possessive. Electric.
“Say the word,” he murmured. “And I’ll step away.”
Lyra’s wolf howled.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
Alaric closed his eyes for a brief, tortured second—then leaned in, his forehead resting against hers.
“This changes everything,” he said.
“Good,” she replied.
The bond did not snap into place.
It formed.
Slowly. Powerfully. By choice.
And somewhere deep within Lyra, something ancient smiled.
- Writer
