Lyra's POV

Every person froze, even Petra, who still held the heavy vase raised menacingly above her head like a weapon.

"Elias?" I stared at him, my shock genuine. "What are you doing here?"

His Alpha gaze rapidly swept the entire wrecked room, instantly absorbing the chaos: broken glass, shredded clothing, and Rhea's furious, heaving chest. "I happened to be nearby on this floor and clearly heard the commotion," he stated, his eyes missing nothing.

Gareth looked profoundly uncomfortable, clearly recognizing Elias and the undeniable authority he carried. He shrank back against the wall. Petra lowered the vase an inch, a strange, calculating gleam entering her swollen eyes. "You are Elias Thorne, correct?"

Elias gave Petra a single, cold, dismissive glance before turning his full attention to me and Rhea. "Are you two completely unharmed?"

Rhea wiped the drying blood from the scratch on her cheek, managing a bitter, tight laugh. "Just encountered some trash, that's all," she muttered, venom thick in her tone.

Elias walked directly over to Gareth, his voice dropping to an ice-cold tone that brooked no argument. "This is your chosen level of character?" Gareth went as pale as paper, trying frantically to stammer out some pathetic explanation, but Elias had already dismissed him with a look of profound disgust.

"Security!" Elias called out toward the open door with command. "Remove these two people immediately!"

Several large hotel security guards rushed in. Petra shrieked and struggled violently as they dragged her away, still screaming threats over her shoulder. "Rhea! I will remember this moment! I am not finished with you!"

Rhea squeezed my hand, her body still trembling slightly from the adrenaline crash. "Lyra, let's get out of here right now."

I nodded, ready to flee, but just as we started to exit, Elias suddenly spoke up.

"Wait," he called out, ensuring his voice was deliberately softer this time, pulling them back from the door. Both women stopped and turned back to face me. My amber eyes met his with curious wariness, still flashing with protective fire.

Elias Thorne's POV

"Look," I said, running a hand quickly through my hair. "Damon is currently in a suite nearby. Perhaps you could quickly go check on him."

Lyra's brow furrowed instantly. Rhea grabbed Lyra's arm. "Who is Damon?"

"He is my close friend," I explained, gesturing toward Lyra. "She generously helped him when he was gravely injured and treated his wounds herself. After the assistance you gave him, the least I can do is ensure you two are safe after this disastrous mess."

Lyra looked uncertain. "I don't know if that's appropriate. He probably doesn't want to see—"

"Trust me on this," I interrupted her, my tone firm, knowing my brother was likely obsessing over her arrival. "He does."

After another moment of hesitation, she finally nodded. "Alright. But only for a few minutes."

We quickly walked to the nearby suite where Damon was recuperating. My specialized werewolf healing techniques were yielding rapid results; his wounds had healed remarkably well, though he still needed significant rest to fully recover his strength.

I knocked once on the door and used my key card to let us in. "Damon? I've brought some visitors," I announced.

The suite was dimly lit, heavy curtains blocking the afternoon sun. Damon was propped up in the king-sized bed, wearing a simple black T-shirt, his phone resting lightly in his hands. When he looked up and saw the small group, his blue eyes widened in genuine, undisguised shock.

"Lyra?" His voice emerged rougher and softer than he probably intended.

"Hi," she said softly, taking one tentative step forward. "Are you feeling better now?"

Damon stared intently at her, then at me, then at Rhea, his expression cycling through confusion and something else I couldn't quite identify. There was a raw, possessive intensity in his gaze when it finally fixed on Lyra—an intensity that made my own wolf take sharp, immediate notice.

Rhea stepped forward. "Sorry for barging in like this. I'm Rhea. Lyra's friend."

"Elias brought us up here," Lyra explained, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. "I hope this is acceptable."

I cleared my throat pointedly. "Rhea's boyfriend was cheating on her. They were in the middle of quite the public showdown when I intervened. I figured after everything Lyra did for you, the least we could do was confirm she and her friend were entirely alright after this confrontation."

"Physical fighting," I added, giving Damon a meaningful look, emphasizing the severity. "With that Petra woman."

Damon's expression darkened instantly. "Are either of you hurt?"

"Nothing serious," Rhea said, lightly touching the scratch on her cheek. "Just a few minor scratches from that psycho's nails."

I could sense Damon had an urgent, unspoken question for Lyra. His gaze kept drifting intensely back to her, and the powerful, unspoken tension in the air grew thick and heavy.

After witnessing what they had just endured, I found myself genuinely concerned about their well-being. "I truly hope you have someone reliable to look after you," I said, my voice carrying genuine Alpha worry for an Omega. "It's not safe for Omegas to face volatile situations like this alone."

Lyra hesitated, her amber eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion before she finally spoke the four explosive words: "I... I have a mate."

The words struck both Damon and me like a physical, brutal blow. I felt my eyebrows instinctively shoot up, while Damon instantly went completely still, his knuckles turning white where he gripped his phone.

"A mate?" I repeated the word, trying desperately to keep my voice sounding neutral while my mind raced furiously.

My respect for her plummeted instantly. What kind of Omega, especially one with her potent healing gift, already had a destined partner yet chose to bring strange, injured Alphas home? Her mate must be oblivious, or completely uncaring—both scenarios felt like a profound waste.

Damon's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I see."

The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically, becoming heavy with intense, unspoken tension. I could practically feel the palpable disappointment radiating from him, though he was trying his best to hide the reaction.

Damon reached for his wallet on the nightstand, pulling out a thick wad of bills. "Elias, please give this to Lyra. For the medical supplies and... everything else," he ordered.

"Damon, you really don't need to—" Lyra started to protest.

"Please," he interrupted her, his voice meticulously controlled and flat. "I need to rest now. Thank you for taking the time to come and check on me, but I believe it is truly best if you both leave now."

His words were polite, but the tone was absolutely final. Lyra’s face flushed slightly, and I detected a quick, painful flash of hurt across her features before she managed to quickly compose herself.

"Of course," she said softly. "I genuinely hope you continue to heal well."

Rhea gently tugged on Lyra's arm. "Come on, let's go."

I walked them quickly to the door, pressing the significant amount of money into Lyra's reluctant hands. "Thank you again for your help in aiding him. And please, be careful out there from now on."

After they left, I turned back to Damon, who was staring intently at his phone with a conflicted, unreadable expression. I let out a long, weary sigh.

"Well, that was profoundly awkward," I observed wryly.

Damon quickly flipped the phone face-down onto the bed with a sharp snap, a flush of color creeping up his neck. "I am not—"

"Right," I accepted. I sat down in the chair beside the bed. "So, what's the actual story here? Do you like her, or is this the forbidden mate bond hitting you harder than the assassins?"