“You failed your oath as my knight,” I said quietly. “You know the law—failure is repaid in blood.”
He didn’t flinch. “I know.”
“But I won’t kill you,” I continued. “Death’s too merciful. A punishment fits better, don’t you think?”
He looked up briefly, eyes weary but resolute. “If that’s what it takes.”
A laugh tore from my throat—bitter, hollow. “You’ll endure anything for her, won’t you?”
He didn’t deny it. He didn’t have to.
My claws slid free.
And just as I raised my hand—
“Stop!”
Elowen burst into the room, tears streaming, throwing herself between us. “Punish me! He did nothing wrong!”
“Move, Elowen.”
“No!”
Kael tried to pull her aside, but she clung to him, trembling.
“I said move!” I roared, fury spilling over.
She didn’t. And my wolf snapped.
My claws cut through the air before I could stop them. The scent of blood followed.
Elowen screamed, crumpling, her arms slashed open.
Kael caught her as she fell, his growl shaking the floor. His gaze lifted—cold, sharp, murderous.
He looked at me like I was something unholy.
Then he carried her out, wordless. The door slammed behind them.
And I stood there—claws dripping red, the pain in my hand nothing compared to the wound blooming in my chest.
Lyra’s POV
Three days.
That’s how long it had been since Elowen took the punishment meant for Kael—punishment I’d meant to carve into his skin, not hers. But she’d thrown herself between us, and now the memory still echoed in my head like a curse.
My own wound from that vampire’s bite had closed far too quickly. Too clean. Too unnatural. Wolves heal fast, yes—but not like this. Not overnight. Not when the venom that struck me was the same one said to have sent Alpha Thoren Dravenwood into his endless sleep.
Something inside me had changed.
I hadn’t told anyone. Not my father. Not my pack. Not even my wolf, though lately she felt like a stranger anyway—restless, pacing, her voice muffled behind static.
So I drove.
The Moon Monastery loomed against a steel-gray sky, its spires jagged as teeth. A cold wind curled around the cliffs, carrying the scent of pine and sage... and something else. Something spoiled.
Decay.
“Child.”
The voice rasped out of nowhere. I spun around.
An old woman stood just beyond the gates, cloaked in ash-colored robes. Her face was hidden, but her eyes gleamed like molten silver beneath the hood. Her scent wasn’t wolf. Nor human. Nor vampire. It was… wrong.