Lyra POV
The pawn shop in the supernatural black market smelled of dust and desperation.
I placed a small velvet box on the grimy glass counter. Inside were a few pieces of jewelry—not the full collection, just enough to fund my escape. I had left the rest behind, buried in the back of my closet like the relics of a life I no longer wanted.
The old human proprietor examined them with a knowing sneer.
"Clearing out, are we?" he rasped.
"All of it. For currency," I replied.
He slid a thick envelope across the counter. I took it without counting.
Outside, the autumn air bit at my cheeks. I checked my phone. Five hours had passed since I sent the message to Silas. The screen remained blank. No reply. No missed calls.
He didn't even care enough to ask why.
I walked to the bus station and bought a ticket to the neutral zone—a small town at the edge of a dense forest, where humans and unaffiliated wolves lived in quiet truce. With the funds, I rented a small storefront and an apartment above it.
I named the bakery "Late Sweet."
The days that followed were filled with flour and sugar instead of poison. I stopped handling Wolfsbane. The welts on my hands slowly faded into white scars. My inner wolf, long suppressed by the toxins, remained in a deep, traumatized slumber—but for the first time in years, my body felt light.
I was free.
But freedom, as I would learn, was a fragile thing. It could shatter the moment your past decided to walk back through the door.
I thought I'd finally escaped the shadow of the Blood Moon Pack. I had no idea my past would walk through my bakery door exactly one year later.
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