CHAPTER 6 : THE FIRST ATTACK

The night after the ceremony didn’t feel real. Everything was still—too still, like the world was just waiting to shatter. Silver moonlight washed over the pack lands, touching the trees, the buildings, even the edges of the forest. The wind slipped between the branches, carrying the sharp scent of pine and something distant, almost like rain. But inside the tiny guest room by the edge of the compound, Lyra couldn’t sleep at all. She sat hunched on the edge of her narrow bed, hands clenched together so tight her knuckles ached. Her chest hurt. Not like a wound—something deeper. A hollow ache that pulled at her with every breath. The ceremony felt like another lifetime already. But the memory kept flooding back. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it: Alpha Kael, standing tall in front of the elders and warriors and guests, voice as cold as the moon, eyes hard as stone as he did what no one thought possible. He rejected her—his own mate. She could still hear the way the bond snapped. Almost like something inside her tearing free. She tried swallowing, but her mouth was dry. Her wolf whimpered, restless and hurt. The pain wasn’t just hers—it was both of them, tangled up and hurting. After a while, she gave up sitting still and walked to the window. The moon painted the courtyard in quiet, silvery shadows. Almost everyone else had gone to bed. The laughter and noise from earlier had faded away, leaving everything peaceful. At least on the surface. Inside, she felt the exact opposite. Her senses were cranked up to full—every little sound seemed sharp, too loud. Every scent crowded against her nose. Her wolf paced under her skin, unsettled. She frowned. Maybe it was just nerves. After what she’d been through today, who wouldn’t be jumpy? She pressed her palms against the cool windowsill, took a long, shaky breath, and pulled away. “I just need sleep,” she muttered, even though she didn’t really believe it. The room wasn’t much—just a narrow bed, a plain dresser, a chair by the window, a wobbly little table with a lantern that was almost out of oil. She turned the flame down, let the darkness settle in. Lyra crawled beneath her blanket and stared up at the ceiling. For a long time, all she could think about was Kael. Even now, her wolf ached for him, whispered his name out of habit. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Stop it.” The bond was gone now—snapped, broken—there was no point. Slowly, exhaustion began to win. Her body got heavy, breath smoothing out, eyes finally starting to close. And then— Click. Her eyes flew open. Every muscle went tight. Her wolf jolted fully awake. Footsteps, quiet, careful. The door handle turning, careful not to creak. Lyra froze, barely breathing. The door pushed open. Two dark shapes slipped inside. She didn’t move, didn’t even blink. She could smell them right away. Wolves. Male. Powerful. Dangerous. Everything in her screamed danger, but she forced herself to lie still, feigning sleep. One of the figures whispered, “She’s here.” The other: “Good. End it fast.” Her blood ran icy cold. End it? Her wolf snarled. Run. Now. The second one edged closer to the bed, and she moved. Rolled straight off the mattress and hurled herself at the window. “What the—?!” Glass shattered around her. Cold air hit her like a slap as she crashed onto the grass outside. She hit hard, pain blooming in her shoulder, but there was no time to stop. She kept moving, scrambling across the ground. “After her!” Someone snarled behind her. Lyra bolted upright and sprinted barefoot across the yard. The stone path stung her feet, but she kept running—straight for the tree line. Out here, the training fields and storage sheds loomed like ghosts. Most places were dark and empty. Her lungs burned. The forest felt so far away. She heard the attackers burst through the window, pounding after her. They were closing in. Fast. Her wolf howled, shoving energy through her limbs. But then—she caught their scent, clearer this time. She frowned. Pack scent. The same layers she’d grown up breathing. No, that… They weren’t outsiders. These weren’t rogues. They were pack wolves. Hers. She risked a glance behind her and really saw them—both wore jackets with the pack crest. Something inside her twisted sick. Someone from inside sent them. Panic threatened to take over. She pushed harder, nearly to the woods. Thirty yards. Twenty. Then— A hand clamped around her arm. She screamed as one attacker tackled her from behind. They hit the ground, pain spiking in her ribs. She lashed out, kicking and clawing. “Hold her!” one snapped. Another set of hands pinned her wrists. Fury rippled up through her wolf and she bit down, hard, on the nearest arm. “Little b***h!” he yelled. He hit her across the face. White sparks burst in her vision, but she kept struggling. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” the enemy growled. Lyra glared up at them, breathing hard. “Why are you doing this?!” They glanced at each other, then one pulled out a long, silver knife. Moonlight gleamed along its blade. “Orders,” he said. Ice slithered through her chest. “From who?” No answer. The knife hovered. Her wolf fought to break free. Suddenly, Lyra’s body burned with a strange, fierce warmth. The attackers tensed, nostrils flaring—they could smell the change, just as she felt it rising inside her. “What the hell…” one muttered. “Do it!” the other snarled, but he sounded unsure, even scared. And then—a roar ripped the night to pieces. Both men froze. Lyra’s head snapped toward the noise. That sound—too familiar to mistake. Alpha. Raw dominance blasted through the yard. Her attackers swore as a huge black wolf charged from the darkness—Kael. He smashed into one of them with brutal force. The man tumbled across the grass with a yell. The second barely had time to shift before Kael was on him, snapping jaws and slashing claws. They clashed—fur and blood and rage. Lyra crawled backward, heart rabbit-fast, as Kael tore into the attacker. There was nothing gentle about it. The rogue wolf finally tried to run. Kael blocked him, teeth bared, promising death. The wounded wolf dropped low, surrendering, but Kael didn’t care. He attacked again. Both would-be killers fled, limping fast into the shadows. Just like that, the world was quiet again. Kael stood in the moonlight, body trembling, fur bristling. His burning stare landed on Lyra. She didn’t dare move. He shifted, bones crunching, black fur sliding back into skin. In a moment, he stood before her in human form, breathing hard. He took in her bloody lip, the scratches. Something dark flickered in his eyes. “You’re hurt.” Lyra’s chest heaved. “You rejected me.” The words snapped out, sharp as the broken window. Kael flinched. Silence. After a second, she forced herself upright. “Why did they have pack marks?” His expression iced over. “You saw that.” “How could I not?” she shot back. She stepped closer. “They smelled like the pack.” He nodded, jaw clenched. “Yes.” So it was true—she wasn’t imagining it. Her insides twisted. “Which means…” “They weren’t rogues.” Kael didn’t bother to deny it. Lyra swallowed hard. “Someone here sent them.” His eyes grew even colder. “Yes.” The ground felt shaky under her. “But why?” He stared out at the darkness, voice so low she almost missed it. “Because someone in this pack…” His claws slid out, sharp and threatening. “…wants you dead.” Lyra’s heart slammed against her ribs. Someone here had power—enough to command warriors, enough to know exactly where she’d be. Her voice shook. “Who?” Kael didn’t answer at first. He looked at her, and in his gaze she saw how dangerous things had become. He must already have his suspicions. She did too. This wasn’t just an attack. It was a warning. Whoever wanted her gone would try again. Kael stepped closer, voice dropping to a growl. “Stay close to me from now on.” Lyra’s heart stuttered. “You rejected me.” He held her gaze, jaw set. “Yes.” His wolf seethed just under his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll let them kill you.”