Lyra’s POV

Lucien stood. “Lyra…”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“Please...”

“I can’t, Lucien. I can’t do this again.”

“Do what?” His voice was rough. “Let someone care for you? Let someone stay?”

I took a step back. “You don’t know what staying costs.”

He moved closer.

“No,” I repeated, eyes wet. “Don’t make promises. Don’t touch this if you’re not ready to bleed for it.”

He stopped.

We stood there in the sunlight: me, him, and the child who carried the ghost of a father he’d never met.

The wind blew through the trees. Soft. Tense. Expectant.

I didn’t know what came next.

But I knew it was already too late to pretend I didn’t feel it.

Draven’s POV

Three years.

Three years of ruling beside a woman I couldn’t love. Three years of silencing my wolf every night he howled for a mate I’d lost. Three years of pretending I didn’t still search for her in every shadow.

Lyra.

Her name never left me. It burned under my skin, lived in the tightness in my chest, and sharpened of my silence. I was Alpha of Blackthorn, feared, obeyed, cold and yet, nothing I conquered could quiet the empty place she carved out when she left.

The war room smelled of smoke, old paper, and the stale breath of men who’d forgotten what they were fighting for. Maps cluttered the table before me rogue patrol routes, alliance proposals, border disputes. None of it mattered. I let them speak. Let them think I cared. I had perfected the art of stillness, the performance of control.

But beneath the surface, my wolf never slept.

Then the doors burst open.

I didn’t move, but every muscle in my body went taut. The scout who stumbled in was covered in muck and blood, panting like he’d outrun death.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice low but sharp enough to cut bone.

He fell to one knee. “Outskirts of Wolhurst. Rogues reported seeing an omega… cloaked in wolfsbane. Traveling with a child. The boy’s eyes , silver.”

The world shifted.

I stood slowly. The room froze.

My heart didn’t beat it roared.

Aria’s voice cut through the air like ice. “Draven, wait.”

I didn’t.

I stormed past her. But her hand caught my arm before I could shift.

“Don’t do this,” she hissed, voice trembling. Not with fear, but with desperation. “She left you. She shamed you. The pack has moved on; you made vows..”

“I made no vow to forget her.”

Her face twisted. “She was a nobody. A rogue-born omega. And she ran. You don’t even know if the child is yours.”

“I know,” I growled, barely leashing my rage. “He has my blood. My scent. He’s mine.”

“Then what about me?” she snapped. “What am I to you, Draven? Am I just your title puppet? You haven’t touched me in years”

“Because you’re not her!” The words tore out of me like shrapnel.

Her eyes widened. Then narrowed.

“I am your Luna.”

“Chosen by council. Not by my heart. You know that.”

“And you’ve let me live like this frozen, childless, unloved. For her?” Her voice cracked.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

Because it had always been Lyra.

Aria’s lips parted, stunned into silence. For a heartbeat, I almost pitied her. Almost.

Then I shifted.

Bones cracked, clothes shredded. My wolf burst forward, fury and longing made flesh. And I ran.

Branches sliced at me. Rain whipped through the trees. My claws tore earth and stone as I raced across territory, leaving behind duty, alliances, even guilt.

Only one thing mattered now.

She was alive. And she had our son.

I would find her.

And gods help anyone who stood in my way.

Lyra's POV

The wind shifted that morning.

I felt funny, there was a strange heat in my stomach, a flicker of something I hadn't felt in three years

The bond.

The threads I had buried, severed, numbed with herbs and time they were waking. Buzzing faintly under my skin like an old wound trying to bleed again.

He was close.

Lucien noticed. Of course he did.

By evening, the storm rolled in. The scent of rain curled around the edges of our little home, and Kairo was still outside, playing in the dirt with Lucien. Wolves made from mud, fangs bared, tails curled.

I should have smiled.

But my stomach twisted instead.

Lucien came in first. “Your scent’s changing.”

I didn’t look at him. Just stared out the window.

“It’s him,” he said. “You feel it.”

“It means nothing.”

“You’re lying.” He stepped closer. “He’s not even here, and he’s already got his claws in you again.”

“He doesn’t have anything,” I said, sharper than I intended. “Not anymore.”

Lucien watched me like he didn’t believe a word of it. “Then let me help you. We can sever it. Old magic. I found a witch who knows the rites.”

I turned then. “You want me to cut him out of me?”

“I want you to be free.”

Free. The word felt like a joke.

“You don’t understand. There’s Kairo. There’s the bond. There’s…” My voice faltered. “He was my mate, Lucien. I didn’t choose it, but I loved him.”

Lucien’s eyes softened, but his jaw stayed tight. “And he left you bleeding in the woods. Pregnant. Alone.”

“I know,” I whispered.

He stepped back, as if it hurt to be near me. “And yet you still burn for him.”

I didn’t get the chance to reply.

Because that’s when Kairo ran inside.

His little face was pale, eyes wide. “Mama. Someone’s coming. He feels... loud.”

Lucien and I both went still.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Then...

The knock.

No. Not a knock. A demand. A presence. The weight of it flooded the air.

I walked to the door like I was in a dream.

Opened it.

There he was.

Draven. My mate. My past. My storm.

Drenched. Towering. Red eyes blazing. The rain didn’t touch him it melted off his fury.

“You ran,” he said, his voice a growl from the center of the earth. “But you’re still mine.”