The Silver Lycan

Chapter 7

Blake’s POV

I am pacing outside the clinic, my fists clenched, and my jaw is tight. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the faint metallic tang of blood, both of which made Arlan, my wolf, restless.

She’s hurt. We should be in there with her, Arlan growled in my mind, pacing just as I am.

“We can’t, not yet,” I muttered under my breath, running a hand through my raven-black hair.

“The healer needs space to work.”

I don’t care. She’s ours. That rogue… I should’ve ripped it apart for touching her!

I exhaled sharply, leaning against the wall. My gray eyes, normally sharp and calculating, were clouded with worry. The rogue attack had been unexpected, but what unsettled me even more was how Lyra had managed to kill it—alone. The thought of her facing that beast without her wolf made my stomach twist.

I heard footsteps approaching and turned to see my father, Alpha Drake, striding down the hallway, his expression grim.

“Blake,” my father said, his deep voice steady but tense. “Any updates?”

“Not yet,” with voice tight, I replied. “The healer is still with her. She’s awake, though.”

My father nodded, his piercing blue eyes narrowing. “And Blaire?”

“She’s fine. Mom is with her and is taking care of her.”

My father’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but the tension didn’t leave his face. He leaned against the opposite wall, crossing his arms as he waited in silence.

A few minutes later, Luna Sara, my mother, arrived, her auburn hair slightly disheveled and her green eyes filled with worry. “How is she?” she asked, looking between me and my father.

“She’s stable,” I said, my voice softening. “But…” I hesitated, unsure how to voice the strange feeling that had been gnawing at me since I saw how Lyra fought.

“But what?” Sara pressed, her gaze sharp.

I shook his head. “I don’t know. Something’s… different.”

Sara didn’t respond, but the look in her eyes told me she understood what I meant.

I remained silent as my parents entered the clinic. I stayed just outside the door, leaning against the wall, with arms crossed as I listened to the conversation inside.

----------------------

“Lyra,” his mother’s gentle voice reached his ears. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Luna,” Lyra replied, though her voice sounded strained.

My fists clenched at the sound. She’s not fine, Arlan growled. She’s hurting, and we should be with her.

“Lyra,” my father’s voice cut through my thoughts, firm but not unkind. “We need to talk about what happened out there.”

I leaned closer to the door, my sharp hearing, having alpha blood, picking up every word.

“I don’t know how it happened,” Lyra said, her voice steady despite the uncertainty in her words. “I was pinned down, and then… something changed. My claws came out, and I felt stronger, faster. I didn’t think—I just fought.”

There was a pause before my father spoke again. “This isn’t normal, Lyra. You don’t have your wolf yet. For you to manifest claws and strength like that…”

“It’s unheard of,” Sara finished, her tone thoughtful.

I could hear the worry in my father’s voice and the quiet acceptance in my mother’s. My mind raced with questions, but one thing was clear—Lyra was changing, and none of us knew why.

When the door finally opened, I straightened, my gray eyes immediately locking onto Lyra. She looked exhausted, her silver-gray hair messy and her stormy gray eyes heavy with fatigue. But she was alive. That was a relief.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.

Lyra hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Thank you.”

I offered her my arm, and she took it, leaning on me slightly as we walked through the quiet halls of the pack house. The soft glow of the evening sun filtered through the windows, casting long shadows on the wooden floors.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked her after a moment, my voice low.

Lyra glanced at me, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I will be. I just need rest.”

I just nodded but didn’t press further. I knew Lyra well enough to recognize when she didn’t want to talk.

When we reached her room, I helped her inside and guided her to the bed. She sat down heavily, her movements slow and deliberate.

“You should lie down,” I said, my tone softening.

Lyra gave me a small, tired smile. “You’re starting to sound like your mother.”

I just chuckled, though the sound was tinged with worry. “Maybe. But she’s usually right.”

Lyra lay back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering closed. I pulled a blanket over her, my movements careful and precise.

“Blake,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

I paused, I looked at her softly, if only I could tell her, how easily my walls crumble when she is hurt. I just looked at her and said. “Always.”

As Lyra drifted off to sleep, I settled into a chair by her bedside. I am not going to leave her—not tonight. Arlan stirred in his mind, his presence calm but watchful.

She’s ours, Arlan said firmly. We need to protect her.

My jaw tightened. “I know.”

For years, I had kept my distance, unsure of my feelings and unwilling to cross any boundaries. But tonight had changed everything. Seeing Lyra fight, seeing her hurt—it had alarmed and awakened something in me.

“She’s my mate,” I whispered to myself, the realization hitting me with the force of a tidal wave.

Yes, Arlan agreed, his voice filled with quiet pride. I can feel it in my bones that she is our mate.

I leaned back in the chair, my eyes never leaving Lyra’s sleeping form. I didn’t know what the future held or what challenges they would face, but one thing was certain—I would protect her at all costs.