The Alpha's lost Mate

destiny. She was no longer the young fragile omega, the one who believed that love would be a blessing. No, today she was a warrior. The shadow of Lyra of yesteryear w

spread to it, but they were only frightened murmurs. Hunters, thieves, traitors, regardless of their titles, all had to know his name: Lyra the warrior. No one knew where she came from, nor how she had acquired these sk

e attention. She observed, attentive, each movement, each change of posture of men around her. One of the regulars advanced towards her, a smirk. He knew her, and knew that sh

r so many suffering in the city. No one knew exactly who he was, but Lyra had the intuition he was in this room, among these men. She had no evidence

n't repel her. His fingers slid on the handle of her sword, but Lyra didn't even need to move. The simple fact of fixing it was enough to intimidate it. Without a word, she came out of the

it, the sword of the scary barely touching her. He was now at his feet, his eyes full of terror. "You thought you could flee your crimes, but you came across the

her a form of recognition, she was still not ready to face everything. The scars of his past were still there, invisible, but omnipresent. And despite her victories, despite her ascent, somethi

were far away, but they were never totally silent . Sometimes, in the silence of the night, she was surprised to think of him, wondering what he became, what he would

n her own way, a cold and calculating being. The links with the pack, with everything she had known, were now distant,

ost serious. " Lyra ", he says, her gaze posing on her with an intensity that she knew only too well. "H

eard rumors, but this time she knew something was different. Lucian's name had

ied coldly, before getting up sud

ken. She hadn't seen him for years, but she would recognize him among a thousand. Behind him, an indecisive air emerged as his eyes touched him with a di

is features were more ripe, his shoulders a little wider, but what had attracted Lyra was the familiarity of the gesture, the wa

ld have deciphered the pages with rare attention. A silence settled together. She let him get. She allowed herself invaded by the tension

se voice, but always tinged with this same kind

was not Lyra before. This simple syllable, in his mouth, was like a painful memory. She l

ace. He seemed to hesitate, almost as if he wanted to move forward but did not know how. Then, as if he sought

rk, but a smile that did not reflect any real joy. "I have never

of resignation. He knew there was an abyss between them, something he could not

mple but impactful sentence reminded her why she had taken the way she had taken. Why was she no longer this s

ot intend to get lost in memories. Nor to leave this look of compassion that seemed to judge h

dn't help but feel guilty, to want to help him come back, to become the one he knew. But Lyra , still as determine

g was a minute less than she was going to prepare for everything. She knew she had to be ready. Ready for anything. Ready to see Luci

hysical; He was mental. She had to get used to pain, exhaustion, survival instinct. Each stroke was a message to itself. Each victory, as small as it is, was a r

lf with ever stronger opponents, without ever allowing herself to fail. She was fighting in limited spaces, learning to use every centimete

d come across Lucian again, it would not only be a physical confrontation. It would be an inner confrontation, a battle against his own memories, against love which, despite everything, re

with a sudden gesture, as if to erase each trace of what she had been. But deep down, discomfort persisted. An emptiness that no victory, no pun

moment would happen. The moment when she came across the one who had been her whole, the one who had shaped a part of her. She was ready. Ready that t