LYRA
The ballroom was breathtaking.
Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, casting warm light across polished marble floors. Tables draped in ivory linen lined the walls, laden with food and flowers. Wolves in formal attire filled the space—Alphas, Betas, council members—all glittering and dangerous and perfectly composed.
I'd never felt more out of place in my life.
Willow squeezed my hand as we stood at the entrance. "Are you okay?"
"No," I whispered.
"You look beautiful," she said firmly. "Remember that."
I tried to believe her.
Zeviar appeared at my side, offering his arm. He was devastatingly gorgeous in a black suit, his blue eyes sharp and unreadable.
"Ready?" he asked quietly.
I wasn't. But I took his arm anyway.
We stepped into the ballroom together, and every
