Lyra said nothing when Xander hugged her. Just as silently, she stepped back and pulled away. His arms lingered for a second before falling to his sides, uncertain. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes—shining with hurt and exhaustion—spoke loud enough.
Without looking at him again, she turned and walked back toward the pack house, her steps quiet, her shoulders stiff. Xander didn’t try to stop her. He watched her go, rubbing a hand through his hair, his mouth drawn in a line.
When Lyra entered the kitchen, Maelin was already prepping for dinner. “There you are, honey,” the older she-wolf said, smiling gently. “Can you peel these?”
Lyra nodded and rolled up her sleeves. Her hands moved over the vegetables, and though she said little, she was grateful for something to do—something normal.
