Lyra's pupils contracted sharply. Her fingertips went ice-cold, trembling, and even the healing liquid seemed to turn frigid against her skin.
Every word the healer spoke landed like a stone against her chest, leaving her frozen to the bone.
Then, softly, she laughed.
It was a hollow, desolate sound. Tears slid down her cheeks and dropped onto the pale linen healing gown, blooming into small damp spots.
So that's what she was to him. Hysterical. Fragile. Unstable. Just another emotional Omega who couldn't control herself.
All those years he'd held her like something precious—it had all been a lie. She was nothing but a stepping stone in his bond with Selene, disposable the moment she became inconvenient.
A bitter curiosity flickered through her mind: His "urgent pack gathering"—was he with Selene right now? Were they curled up in the alpha's private quarters together, him blowing gently on that tiny scratch on her finger, whispering the same sweet words he'd once reserved only for her? Was he breathing in her scent like it was the only thing keeping him alive?
Gritting her teeth against the searing pain in her forehead, Lyra reached for her scent-tag communicator on the bedside table with her right hand—the one without the healing compress.
Her fingers shook so badly that the identity recognition failed twice before finally accepting on the third try.
She didn't bother with unread messages. She went straight to the pack's shared howl-network feed.
Selene's latest post sat right at the top.
The caption was a single line, dripping with calculated sweetness: "Even if I'm not an Alpha's daughter by blood, I still found a wolf who'd do anything to protect me~"
Three scry-captured images were attached.
In the first, Selene sat on the den's main gathering couch, lips pursed in a slight pout, her right hand extended to show a small bandage on her fingertip. The cut beneath it was so shallow it was barely visible—a faint red dot, nothing more. Her scent probably hadn't even spiked from the pain.
In the second, Fenris knelt on one knee on the fur-covered floor, cradling her hand with exquisite care. His brow was furrowed, his eyes filled with anguish, as though she'd suffered some grievous injury that threatened her very life.