---

A knock broke the silence.

I didn’t answer.

The door opened anyway.

Ronan.

Of course.

He leaned against the frame. “You’re not safe outside this pack. Especially now.”

“Not news to me.”

“You’re a target.”

“Let them come.”

He stepped inside. “Darius will begin training you tomorrow. Whether you like it or not.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because if the Moon’s Shadow prophecy is real,” he said, “then you’re either our salvation or our destruction. And I’m not betting on fate to make the call.”

I met his gaze. “And what if I fail?”

His expression didn’t change.

“Then we all die.”

I woke up gasping.

My skin was on fire. My bones felt like they were cracking open from the inside. Every heartbeat thudded through me like a war drum, and my breath fogged the air even though the room wasn’t cold.

Something was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

The mark on my collarbone burned like someone had pressed a branding iron to it. It pulsed in time with my heartbeat—no, with something deeper. Something older.

I stumbled out of bed, dragging myself to the small mirror in the corner.

My eyes.

They weren’t brown anymore.

They glowed silver-blue. Like moonlight. Like Ronan’s.

“What the hell—” I whispered, grabbing at the sink to steady myself.

And then the wave hit me.

Power. Sharp. Uncontrolled. Raw.

It slammed into my chest and knocked me backward. The mirror shattered. The floorboards cracked. And for a second, the world tilted sideways.

I screamed.

Not from pain—though it burned like fire—but from the sheer force of it. Like I was being split open, every cell ripped apart and rearranged.

My wolf howled inside me for the first time.

Not a whimper. Not a growl.

A howl.

Wild and furious and alive.

The door exploded open.

Ronan stormed in, eyes blazing. “What did you do?”

I couldn’t answer. I was on the floor, trembling, clutching my head as the mark on my collarbone pulsed harder, brighter, blinding.

“She’s activating,” Elder Darius’s voice called from behind him.

“No—she’s overloading,” Ronan snapped.

They rushed to me, but I lashed out. Instinct. Reflex. Fear.

A burst of silver light flared from my palm—and sent both of them flying backward.

“Oh my god,” I gasped. “I didn’t mean to—”

The walls rattled. The fireplace roared higher. Wind ripped through the room even though the windows were shut.

“She’s channeling the moon directly,” Darius whispered, eyes wide. “It’s too soon. She’s not ready.”

“Then shut it down,” Ronan growled.

“You think I can? She’s the Moon’s Shadow, not a damn light switch.”

I curled into myself, shaking. Power kept building inside me, like a dam about to burst. My bones itched. My blood felt electric.

And then, without warning, it snapped.

I screamed again, louder this time, as my body convulsed and slammed into the ceiling like I was weightless. My vision went white, and the mark on my collarbone flared, covering my chest, neck, and arms in glowing moon sigils I’d never seen before.

And then—

Everything stopped.

Just… stopped.

I opened my eyes slowly.

I was hovering.

My feet weren’t touching the ground.

The room was frozen. Dust hung in the air. Darius was mid-reach, unmoving. Ronan was halfway across the floor, eyes wide—but locked in place like a statue.

Time… had stopped?

No.

I had stopped it.

My heart slammed into my chest. I fell to the ground hard, coughing, dizzy, and soaked in sweat.

Everything snapped back into motion.

Ronan rushed forward, catching me before I collapsed again. “Lyra.”

I was too weak to speak. My vision blurred.

But I felt his arms wrap around me, firm and careful, and I hated how good it felt.

---

They moved me to the healer’s den.

No one spoke to me for hours.

I could hear them whispering outside.

“The mark activated.”

“She stopped time.”

“No wolf’s ever done that.”

“Is she even a wolf?”

By the time the door creaked open again, I was ready to burn the whole damn place down.

Ronan walked in. Alone. His usual cold mask was cracked slightly. Just enough for me to see the storm behind it.

“You nearly killed yourself.”

“Good,” I rasped. “Would’ve saved everyone the trouble.”

He stared at me. Hard.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” I snapped. “You don’t even trust me. You’re just waiting to see which prophecy I fulfill—savior or destroyer. So why not let me die?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then: “Because I’ve seen destroyers. You’re not one of them.”

I snorted. “You don’t know me.”

“I’ve watched you nearly tear yourself apart to survive. That’s not destruction. That’s resilience.”

I turned away, ashamed of the tear that slipped down my cheek.

---

Later that night, I slipped out.

I needed air. Space. Anything but the suffocating pressure of being watched, studied, dissected.

The moon was full. High and heavy above the trees. I walked into the training yard barefoot, still aching, still marked with those glowing sigils.

That’s when I saw him.

Ronan.

Shirt off. Blade in hand. Training alone.

His body moved like liquid steel, every strike precise, powerful. He didn’t notice me at first.

I almost turned back.

But then he spoke.

“You should be resting.”

“I don’t rest well when I’m being dissected by everyone around me.”

He paused. Lowered the blade.

“You scared them.”

“I scared myself.”

He stepped toward me slowly. “Your wolf surfaced for the first time. That power? It’s only the beginning.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” he said. “It’s supposed to prepare you.”

I met his gaze. “What happens next?”

“We train.”

“Why? So I can be your secret weapon?”

His eyes darkened. “So you don’t die.”

---

The words hung between us.

Real. Raw.

He stepped closer.

“You’re not a pawn, Lyra. And I’m not Damian.”

That name was a slap.

I looked away, chest tight. “Then don’t treat me like I belong to anyone.”

“I don’t want to own you,” he said, voice low. “I want to protect you.”

Silence.

My heart pounded.

And for the first time since the rejection, I didn’t feel small.

I felt seen.