Carrying the basket of freshly folded clothes, I made my way up to Ryder’s room, the familiar scent of detergent and clean linen wafting up as I went. I smiled to myself, thinking how mundane it was to be doing laundry amidst the chaos of pack politics and the ongoing investigation.
As I approached Ryder's door, I paused, hearing voices inside. My hand froze on the knob, curiosity tugging at me. I recognized Lyra’s voice immediately, sharp and accusatory.
“You could’ve refused her, Ryder!” Lyra’s voice was laced with frustration. “You didn’t have to accept her as your mate. You had a choice, and you chose *her*.”
I frowned, gripping the laundry basket tighter. Ryder didn’t need this right now—he was already under enough pressure from the adjudicators and the pack. Still, I stayed root
