Chapter 4
1011 Words
The harsh lighting above Lyra's bed made her wince immediately when she opened her eyes. She took a deep breath through her nostrils and the sharp smell of antiseptics caused her to sneeze.
Lyra opened her eyes again, slightly adjusting to the bright lights. She didn't need to look around much to know she was in a pack infirmary.
It looked nothing like the one back at Crimson Moon pack. Where they had a large hall filled with beds separated by cubicle curtains, Darkshadow believed in patient privacy and every patient had a room to themselves.
Lyra's throat felt like the Sahara Desert. She yanked the thin sheets off her body, swinging her legs off the bed. The moment her feet touched the cold floor, she felt a sharp sting and yelped in pain, retracting them.
Blisters had formed on them and even with the bandages on, she could still feel pain. The nurse walked in, holding a tray of food. She took in the sight of Lyra clutching her feet and let out a small chuckle.
“Blisters are nasty things, aren't they?” The nurse said, dropping the tray next to the bed.
“I had suspected you'd wake up soon. If you had still been unconscious the fourth day, we might've pronounced you dead.”
Lyra's eyebrows scrunched together.
Fourth day?
“I..” she croaked, grabbing a glass of water to lubricate her throat.
“I was out for three days!” The nurse nodded.
She then looked at her feet, “then why hasn't my feet healed yet?”
“You must've stepped on silver… or traces of it, dear. You gave the patrol quite a scare,” the nurse added lightly. “Collapsing at the eastern border isn't the most reassuring way to request entry.
“Well, this is half empty and wouldn't need a change till the next thirty to forty-five minutes. I'll go get the Alpha,” The nurse said, checking the IV drip.
The nurse hadn't taken up to four steps towards the door when it swung open, revealing a rather tall man with a head full of brown tufts of hair.
“I’ll take it from here, Tilly,” he said in a low voice. Nurse Tilly bowed her head towards him and mumbled, “yes Alpha Killian”. She threw Lyra a soft look right before closing the door, leaving her and the Alpha.
‘I just had to be left alone in a room with a man that I'm to marry.’ Lyra thought, rolling her eyes.
“Would it have killed you to knock?” Lyra asked, eyeing the Alpha casually. “I could've been naked.”
He took a seat on one of the wooden chairs and leaned back, crossing his right ankle over his left knee. The position enunciated power but all that was on Lyra's mind was how she'd be married to this man after a month.
“Rogues don't deserve privacy. Now why did you lead that creature to my pack's borders?”
Lyra looked at him, dumbfounded at his accusation. Then it dawned on her that no one in this pack knew who she was, not even the man she was to marry.
She cleared her throat, “one, I'm not a rogue and two, I didn't lead that thing to your ‘beloved’ pack. It attacked and killed my men on our way here. They would still be alive and I wouldn't be in this room with you if it weren't for this stupid arranged mating!”
Killian raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed.
"How many have you deceived with that lie?"
Lyra eyed him carefully as if confirming something and let out a dry laugh.
“I suppose it is easier to assume I am lying than to admit something dangerous roams close enough to threaten your borders and as powerful as you think you are, you don't know how to stop it.”
A flicker of irritation crossed his features.
“I did not deceive anyone,” she continued. “And I did not come here by accident.”
Killian's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Then enlighten me," he said calmly. "Why would anyone willingly collapse at my borders wearing nothing but rags?"
Lyra remembered what she had worn before she blacked out and quickly looked down at her body. She didn't realize earlier but they had dressed her in a large tank top and shorts.
‘Definitely not my style,’ she thought.
"My men had enough respect for you as a lady to cover you up," Killian cut through her line of thought. "Now answer my question."
"For an Alpha, you are quite dumb." She continued, "and forgetful. Didn't Crimson Moon send you a notice of your 'bride's' arrival?"
Killian did not respond immediately. Instead, he studied her.
Her posture — straight despite exhaustion.
Her tone — sharp, unyielding.
Her scent — unmistakably pack-bred, not rogue.
For a second, he looked genuinely confused.
“You expect me to believe,” he said slowly, “that Crimson Moon would send my future Luna across territories without escort… without formal announcement… without so much as a messenger hawk arriving ahead of her?”
Lyra’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“They did send an escort.”
“Then where are they?” he asked.
Her gaze hardened.
“I already told you. Dead.”
Silence stretched between them.
Even the faint hum of the IV drip seemed louder.
“They were slaughtered before we even reached your borders,” she continued. “Whatever attacked us was not rogue, not wolf—though it looked like one—and certainly not weak.”
Killian rubbed his chin, his stubble brushing against his fingers. “You expect me to believe a lone female wolf survived an attack powerful enough to eliminate an entire escort?”
“I don't expect you to believe anything,” Lyra said coolly. “I am telling you what happened.”
“State your name.”
“Lyra Hale.”
- Writer
