Lyra’s POV
The nausea slammed into me without warning—violent, relentless. It wasn’t the kind that came from skipping meals or standing too long; it clawed deeper, twisting through my core like invisible talons. I pressed my palm to my temple and braced against the wall just outside the banquet hall, struggling to draw in air.
This wasn’t normal. My wolf was agitated, pacing inside me, her ears flattened and her tail low—not frightened, but uneasy. Something was wrong. I didn’t know what it was, only that I needed to get away—fast.
The organizers had mentioned a few private rest suites upstairs for guests who needed a break. I stumbled toward one, slipping inside and locking the door behind me. The second I shut out the noise—the chatter, the scents of dominance and perfume—the tension began to ease. My breathing steadied, though the unease still lingered like a storm waiting to break.
I sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly, staring at the floor. Maybe it was stress. Or maybe it was the humiliation still echoing in my mind—Thorne standing beside Lilith, introducing her like his Luna while I stood there, invisible.
Just as I steadied myself to return, a soft click broke the silence.
The doorknob turned. Lilith slipped inside, not even bothering to knock. Her perfume drifted in first—sweet, heavy, suffocating.
“Well,” she drawled, her smile sharp as glass. “Look who’s hiding while the real Luna enjoys the spotlight.”
I didn’t move. “What are you doing here?”
She walked forward, her heels tapping rhythmically against the marble. “You always pretend you don’t care,” she said, mock sympathy dripping from every word. “But you do. You always have. You just can’t stand the fact that he loves me, not you.”
“I’m not pretending anything,” I replied quietly. “You can have him. I don’t want what doesn’t want me.”
Lilith’s smirk deepened as she crossed her arms. “Oh, please. Spare me the act. You were never his choice, Lyra. You latched on when I left, thinking wearing the Luna crown would make you someone.”
My stomach twisted again, worse this time. My knees threatened to give way. I gripped the edge of the bed for balance, fighting the dizziness clawing at me. What was happening to me? Why did my body feel like it was rejecting itself?
“Whatever you’re trying to pull,” I ground out, “I’m done playing your games.”
Her eyes gleamed with something dark. “Who said this was a game?” she murmured, turning for the door. She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “You should lie down—you look terrible.” Her tone was honeyed venom.
Then she stepped out—and the lock slid into place from the outside.
I lunged for the door, rattling the handle. It wouldn’t budge. I heard the faint rustle of a Do Not Disturb tag being hung, followed by silence.
The strange feeling surged again, stronger, relentless. My knees gave way and I collapsed onto the bed, my body trembling as heat consumed me from within. My wolf howled in agony, frantic and desperate—but for what, I didn’t know.
I reached through the mindlink, gasping for his name. Thorne. Alpha Thorne… please—
Nothing.
Only silence.
My body shook uncontrollably. My skin burned; my heartbeat thundered in my chest until it hurt. The nausea and the heat tangled together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. My wolf clawed at my mind, wild and confused, and the world tilted—then vanished into black.
---
Third Person POV
The Alpha Gathering wound down in a haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and hollow toasts to future alliances. Lyra never came back.
Alpha Thorne stood near the center of the hall, a drink in his hand and Lilith tucked neatly under his arm. Once or twice, he glanced toward the entrance—though only because Lilith had murmured, “She probably went home early. She looked… upset.”
He didn’t even bother pretending to care.
“She’s dramatic,” he said, shrugging. “Always makes a scene when things don’t go her way.”
Lilith tilted her head, her voice soft with mock concern. “I hope she’s not doing anything foolish.”
Thorne smirked, finishing his drink. “She’s fine. She always is.”
With that, he guided Lilith out to their car, never once asking where his Luna had gone—or whether she was safe.
The next morning, a hotel maid knocked gently on one of the locked suite doors. When no one answered, she let herself in. What she saw made her gasp.
Lyra lay sprawled across the bed, her skin pale and slick with sweat, chest rising shallowly. Her body radiated heat like she was caught in a fever.
“Oh, Goddess,” the woman whispered, rushing forward. “Miss? Are you alright?”
Lyra stirred weakly, eyelids fluttering open. “I’m fine,” she rasped, forcing herself upright even as her body trembled.
She wasn’t fine. But she refused to let anyone see that.
Every muscle screamed in protest as she stood and gathered her things. The night before was a blur, but the memory of the pain—and the strange pull inside her—still lingered like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
Outside, she flagged down a cab. In the back seat, she dug her phone out of her bag. Missed calls, unread messages—but none from Thorne. Not a single one.
Her throat tightened. Then she noticed another name flashing across the screen.
Alpha Corvin.
[I saw you at the gathering, but you disappeared. Where did you go?]
[I tried to find you, but I started feeling sick too. Something was off.]
[Are you okay?]
[If you don’t reply, I’ll send my wolves to track you down.]
[I can’t wait any longer, Lyra. A few days—that’s all you get. After that, I’m coming for you.]
