Minutes felt like hours as I tore through the forest on all fours, my wolf form pushing to its limits. My heart pounded with every stride, each beat echoing Lyra’s name in my head. I prayed silently, hoping against hope that she was holding on.
When I finally reached the scene, the sight before me was more horrifying than I had imagined. The guards were engaged in a fierce battle with a group of rogues, blood and fur flying in every direction. And there, lying amidst the chaos, was my daughter.
Oh...goddess.
I shifted back to human form and rushed to her side, my breath catching in my throat as I took in her condition. Her small body lay crumpled on the ground, bruised and battered, blood trickling from a gash on her forehead. She was unconscious, her skin pallid and her breathing shallow.
“Lyra, my baby,” I whispered, cradling her head in my lap. My vision blurred with tears, the reality of the situation hitting me like a physical blow. “Please, stay with me. I’m here.”
Tobias staggered over, his face etched with worry.
“Luna, she needs medical attention now. The rogues scattered as soon as they realized reinforcements were coming. They knew exactly what they were doing.”
I nodded, brushing the tears from my eyes.
“Get her to the pack’s infirmary immediately. I’ll handle things here.”
As Tobias carefully lifted Lyra, I turned my attention to the fallen rogues. Something about them seemed... off. Their eyes held an unnatural glint, and a strange scent lingered around them—a scent that was disturbingly familiar.
My gut churned with suspicion. This was no ordinary rogue attack. Someone had orchestrated this, and before I could even ponder on that thought, my gaze zeroed at one of the guards.
"Where on earth is Aiden? Was he injured, too?"
It was Tobias who answered. "I will explain later, Luna. For now, we need to get the princess to safety."
I nodded, despite the heavy shaking that I was feeling.
Back at the pack’s infirmary, the air was thick with tension and the sharp scent of antiseptic. Healers bustled around, tending to the wounded, but my focus was solely on Lyra. She lay on a cot, her face pale and motionless, surrounded by concerned pack members.
Jacobs, our senior healer, approached with a grave expression. “Luna Mira, her injuries are severe. The head trauma... it’s critical. We’ll do everything we can, but we need to stabilize her quickly.”