The night is heavy with fog. The moon casts pale, uncertain light across the forest as Lyra moves silently, her steps deliberate, her breath controlled. Every leaf underfoot is a threat. Every shadow, a potential witness.
She reaches a secluded glade, where the air feels colder, thicker. The space vibrates with an unnatural tension—an energy she has never felt in her own territory.
From the darkness, a figure emerges.
Tall. Dominant. Dangerous.
Alpha Malrik.
His presence hits her before she even sees him. The forest seems to shrink, the air heavy with his power. His eyes glint with calculated interest as he steps forward.
“You came,” he says smoothly, voice carrying a dangerous calm.
Lyra inclines her head, keeping her expression neutral.
“I did,” she replies softly. “I’m listening
