If every detail was designed around Selene's taste, then Selene could have the honor of being the mate.
She pulled up the scent-recording she'd been saving—the captured memory from the abandoned den, preserved while Selene gloated about stealing credit for a rescue she'd never performed. Lyra selected the most damning segment and sent it to Fenris.
Then she typed one final message:
"Fenris, I wish you and your mate a happy bonding. May it last a hundred years."
The moment it sent, she blocked every way he could reach her. Scrubbed her scent-tag from his tracking range. Powered off her identity token.
The departure call echoed through the crossing station.
Lyra picked up her traveling pack and walked toward the caravan, step by step, until she disappeared into the covered wagon that would carry her beyond the borders.
The caravan rolled forward, then picked up speed, climbing through the mountain passes until it crested the ridge and descended into lands she'd never seen.
Lyra leaned against the window, watching the sea of clouds roll beneath her like waves. Everything behind—the pain, the betrayal, the shadows—felt impossibly far away.
She closed her eyes, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, a peaceful smile curved her lips.
Goodbye, Fenris.
Goodbye to a past built on nothing but betrayal and hurt.
From now on, her life belonged to no one but herself.
