Lyra felt as though she had fallen into an ice cave carved from silver.
Her fists clenched tightly, claws threatening to break through skin. Fenris controlled New Metro territory with absolute dominance. Once he spoke, no wolf in any den dared help her. His command voice echoed through every pack runner, every elder, every guard who might have offered sanctuary.
In the end, the path she had worked so hard to find was blocked again. The familiar darkness crept through her chest—the bond-sickness that came from a forced claiming, from years of having her will crushed beneath his Alpha authority. Her whole body shook, even her voice trembled.
"Fenris… if you keep forcing me like this, aren't you worried you'll be pushing me to death one day?"
Fenris's expression stiffened for a moment, his amber eyes flickering with something that might have been concern—or possession. Then he said softly, "Lyra, I love you so much. How could I ever push you to death? Since you're begging anyway, why beg outsiders instead of begging me?"
Lyra couldn't say a word. His love was too heavy. It crushed her until she couldn't breathe, until her wolf cowered in the depths of her soul, until her own scent turned bitter with submission she had never chosen.
She couldn't bear it anymore. "I'm begging you. Can you show me mercy?" She looked up at him in despair, letting him see the hollow emptiness in her eyes.
For the first time, the proud Omega of Stormvale blood lowered her head to Fenris Blackthorn. Everything was going exactly as he wanted, yet seeing Lyra give in still made Fenris uneasy. Something in his chest tightened—a warning he refused to acknowledge.
He lowered his eyes and pulled her up, his grip firm on her wrist. "Come back to the den with me first. I'll take care of your brother's case."
Lyra accepted her fate. As long as Kael could be cleared of his charges. As long as her brother could walk free from the iron-silver holding den where he'd been caged for crimes he never committed.
Her lips parted slightly. "Fenris, if you break your word again, our story will only end when one of us is in a grave."
But Fenris didn't hear her.
All of a sudden, Selene suddenly collapsed for no clear reason—her body going limp, her scent turning sharp with distress that seemed too perfectly timed. All of his attention went to her. He gathered Selene up in his arms and rushed out of the private chamber, his command voice booming for healers.
Watching how carefully he held Selene, how his entire being oriented toward protecting her, Lyra laughed softly. The sound was hollow.
She didn't understand. If he loved Selene so much, why wouldn't he let Lyra go? Why wouldn't he sever their bond and release her from this cage of teeth and territory?
Fenris, could you really see your own heart clearly?
That evening, Fenris didn't come to escort her to the Moon-Market rite. He sent word through a pack runner that she should go first.
Before Selene returned, Fenris never let Lyra be alone. His scent was always nearby, his guards always watching, his presence always pressing against her like a weight she couldn't shake. Right after Selene came back, everything changed.
As soon as Lyra entered the grand hall where the Moon-Market was held—a cavernous space lit by silver-touched lanterns and thick with the mingled scents of a dozen bloodlines—she saw Selene holding Fenris's arm as they walked in together.
So it wasn't that he had no time. He just had no time for her.
The market broker, Balthazar Gravesong, flattered Fenris eagerly, his oily voice carrying across the gathering. "This must be Selene Nightbloom. Seeing you in person is even better than rumors. You're beautiful and capable—your scent-weaving talents are spoken of in every den."
"Everyone says that if you hadn't left Alpha Blackthorn's side back then, the position of his bonded mate would surely have been yours."
"No wonder Alpha Blackthorn takes such good care of you. You two look perfect together—your scents practically sing in harmony."
Selene smiled proudly, her delicate features arranged in perfect humility that didn't reach her eyes. "You flatter me, Balthazar. I owe everything to Fenris for giving me a chance to serve his pack. If not, how could an Omega with a severed bond like me stand here today?"
The crowd stepped on Lyra to praise Selene. Every word was a blade, every glance a judgment. Fenris didn't say a single word to defend Lyra—didn't release even a hint of protective scent, didn't acknowledge her existence.
In their first year of forced bonding, someone once spoke badly about Lyra. Fenris had broken that wolf's jaw on the spot, his dominance crashing through the room like a storm. Now, these wolves mocked her word by word in front of him, and Fenris showed no reaction at all.
So this was the difference between love and no love.
Lyra took a deep breath, steadying her wolf, and turned to leave. But Selene deliberately stopped her, her voice pitched to carry.
"Lyra Stormvale, you're here. Why didn't you greet me properly?"
Everyone's eyes turned toward them. The broker, who had just insulted Lyra, looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and bury himself beneath the stone floor.
Lyra couldn't leave now. So she walked over calmly, her cold eyes sweeping across everyone present. She let her noble bloodline show in her bearing—the ancient Stormvale dignity that no forced bond could strip away.
"Selene Nightbloom, I am Fenris's bonded mate. My Alpha is here. Why shouldn't I be here?"
"As for you—you left Fenris back then to chase after foreign Alphas with larger territories. After your bond was severed, you ran back to this territory to find him again."
"One thing you said is right. Fenris has patience. If I were him, I would stay far away from an Omega like you, not keep you by my side as a scribe."
"As an Omega, let me give you some advice, Selene. If you want to bond again, find an unmated Alpha."
"Stop clinging to a bonded male every day. It's embarrassing, and it only makes people think no Alpha wants your scent."
Every word cut sharply. Lyra showed Selene no mercy at all. The gathered wolves shifted uncomfortably, scent-pressure rising in the hall.
Before Selene could arrange her features into hurt submission, Fenris spoke first, his command voice crashing through the room as he angrily scolded Lyra, "That's enough!"
"Selene is my person. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Don't bully her."
