Mira's. POV.

The doors don't open. They explode inward. Cyrus stands in the wreckage, and I've never seen him look like this. Blood streaks his face, his shirt torn, his eyes wild with something that looks like terror. He's staring at Lyra. Only at Lyra.

"Please," he says, and his voice breaks on the word. "Please, listen to me." Kael tenses beside me, hand still on his weapon. Lyra's power crackles between us, dangerous and unstable. Cyrus takes a step forward, hands raised. Not like an Alpha. ...