Lyra POV
The days that followed the incident in the healer’s den changed something inside Lyra.
Not in a way that broke her.
But in a way that hardened her.
⸻
She stopped waiting.
Stopped expecting.
Stopped reacting.
⸻
The pack house still moved as it always did—warriors training, servants rushing through corridors, voices echoing through the halls—but Lyra no longer felt like a part of it.
She existed within it.
But she did not belong to it.
And for the first time—
She chose it that way.
⸻
That morning, she didn’t go to the dining hall.
She didn’t send word.
Didn’t care who noticed.
Instead, she stood at the training grounds, the early sun barely rising as she faced Ronan.
“Again,” she said, her voice steady.
Ronan studied her carefully.
There was no hesitation in her
