Lyanna’s POV
When we returned to the pack house, Alpha Draven Blackmark did not even look at me.
He led Natalie upstairs as though she were already the Luna of the pack, one hand steady on her back while she murmured weakly about feeling unwell. As they climbed the stairs, he mindlinked the kitchen servants, ordering them to prepare all her favorite meals.
As though she were precious.
As though she mattered.
I stood near the entrance hall with my travel case still in my hand, watching everything unfold as if I were no more than a wandering guest in someone else’s home.
As Draven descended the stairs again, he slowed when he saw me heading toward the guest wing.
Then, without even meeting my eyes, he spoke to the servants.
“Prepare two extra dishes. Lyanna’s favorites. Set another place at the table.”
I stopped walking.
For a moment, I almost laughed.
Was that supposed to mean something?
An apology?
A peace offering?
He could not remember the vows he made beneath the sacred moonfire. He could not remember the last time we spoke without Natalie between us. Yet suddenly he remembered my favorite meals?
It felt like an insult.
A scrap tossed to a wolf who had already learned she no longer belonged.
I said nothing.
I simply kept walking.
---
The guest chamber felt cold when I entered.
Not from the air.
From the emptiness.
I shut the door behind me and let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.
This was not my home anymore.
Truthfully, it had not been for some time.
I placed my case on the bed and knelt beside it, already planning how quickly I could leave once night fell.
But the moment I opened it, my hands froze.
My dresses.
My cloaks.
My belongings.
All of them had been slashed apart.
The fabric was shredded beyond repair, the cuts too deliberate to be accidental.
Someone had taken their time.
My stomach sank.
Then I found my travel papers tucked deep into the lining, untouched.
That was when I understood.
This was not carelessness.
It was a warning.
My throat tightened.
Natalie.
Of course it was her.
Yet I no longer had the strength to feel surprised.
Only tired.
I quickly gathered what little could be saved, stuffing the ruined pieces aside. I needed to leave this place as soon as I could.
Then the chamber door creaked open.
I did not need to turn to know who it was.
“Natalie,” I said flatly.
She stepped inside as though the room already belonged to her. In one hand, she held a small black vial, and her expression was calm—almost bored. Her eyes swept across the room before settling on me with a slow, mocking smile.
“Well,” she said lightly, “you are still here.”
I rose slowly to my feet.
She tilted her head.
“After everything, you are still clinging to him? That is almost embarrassing, Lyanna.”
I said nothing.
She walked deeper into the room, glancing around as if inspecting something beneath her standards.
Then she spoke again, as casually as if discussing the weather.
“Your grandmother died last moon, did she not?”
My fingers went cold.
When she saw the change in my face, her smile widened.
“You begged Draven to let you visit her,” she continued softly. “You were nearly on your knees.”
My jaw tightened painfully.
Natalie pulled out a memory crystal and brushed her thumb over its surface.
“Do you know where he was that day?”
She did not wait for an answer.
“We rode to the western cliffs together. He took me to watch the sunset. He was with me.”
She turned the crystal toward me.
An image shimmered to life.
Draven kissing her.
The room seemed to tilt.
My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe.
I remembered that day perfectly.
The fear.
The panic.
The way I begged him to let me leave, just long enough to say goodbye to the woman who raised me.
And he refused.
Because he was “busy.”
Busy with her.
Something inside me cracked then—slow and deep, like ice finally splitting beneath too much weight.
Natalie watched me carefully, waiting for me to break.
“You never mattered to him as much as you believed,” she said softly.
The silence stretched between us.
Then something in me finally snapped.
“You think this is amusing?” I asked quietly.
She smiled.
“A little.”
My hands curled into fists.
“You tore through my life as though it meant nothing,” I said, my voice rising. “You took everything from me, and you still stand there smiling as if you earned a prize?”
Her expression barely shifted.
“I already won,” she said simply.
That was enough.
I stepped toward her.
“You have won nothing,” I said sharply. “You are nothing but a passing distraction—an amusement for a bored Alpha.”
Her smile faltered.
“And one day,” I continued, my voice shaking but steady, “he will look at you and realize exactly that.”
Her eyes hardened.
But I was not finished.
“You think being in my place means you have won,” I said. “But all you have earned is the affection of a wolf who betrays the mate chosen for him by the Moon Goddess. If he could cast me aside, he will cast you aside too.”
For the first time, her smug smile disappeared.
I stepped closer.
“One day,” I whispered, “you will understand what it feels like to be replaced.”
For a moment, she only stared at me.
Then her lips curled again, though the confidence in her eyes had faded.
“You really believe he would choose you over me?”
I let out a hollow laugh.
“No,” I said. “I know exactly what kind of wolf he is now.”
And somehow, saying those words hurt less than I expected.
Because the truth no longer broke me.
It freed me.
