The Alpha's lost Mate

h speech exchanged between them, had printed itself in its mind, without it being able to get rid of it. The boy. His golden eyes. He hadn't seen su

nk that he did not want to admit. The little boy was not normal. Lucian knew it, he felt it in each fiber of his being. But how was it linked to Lyra ? And why were the eyes of thi

d was new, uncertain, destabilizing. Lucian didn't like it. He didn't like to have unanswer

little silhouette walked between the stalls, in silence, as if he were just a simple spectator of the world around him. His golden eyes shone in the morning lig

m. The child knew he was observed. And Lucian knew he had to do something. But pride, this old enemy, prevented him from acting. He was waiting for the boy to take the first s

that. This boy ... He was a mystery that he had not yet resolved, and he hated this feeling. He

t in the morning lit the scene as in a distant dream. The little boy walked without hurrying, his golden eyes brilliant with disturbi

s throat. Instead, he observed the child in heavy silence, as if the answer to his questions was in these strange eyes, golden li

ns, but he had never felt such a tension in front of something too ... inexplicable. Pride, combativeness, it all made him a man of action. But

g tone, or even particularly daring. Just a simple quest

fix me lik

een through this childish lens. But he knew that the answer was not in the boy's gaze. No, he found her in himself, in this

e ends up saying, his low and hard

aps even more than a child of his age should be. His golden eyes landed on Lucian, as if he measured the man in front of him. Lucian felt more vul

suddenly. His voice was soft, but his words he

it meant, but the simple fact that the child mentioned it destabilized him more. He shook

said, more for himsel

fact. "You are afraid because you know what you did. A

e the direction that things took. But this boy ... he knew. He knew more than he s

voice trembling slightly, b

s and began to go away, as if he already knew that Lucian was not going to follow him. But he left behind an unk

he was there before he even crossed the door. It was an inexplicable feeling, a species of silent alarm that was triggered each time it was nearby. It was not

ng like an innocent melody. Lyra clenched his fists, her gaze hardening. He h

oo well. She scrutinized him, her face marked by coldness and distrust, and crossed her arms on her chest in a protective, almost i

aid in a firm voice, without gra

, but also a touch of challenge. He hadn't changed. His arrogance was still as present, still as invasive.

ll of this gravity which, she knew, often concealed a much heavier sub

the least of his words did not betray a deeper intention. He allowed himself to cross this limit, to act as if all of this did n

ull anger awakening in her, but he was not there to hear her. She knew it, he was n

oom for him in this world that she had built alone, in this future that she had forged without him. There was nothing t

a distance that he could not cross. This barrier between them was greater than any quarrel, greater than the years that separated them. He had always believed that

rds chosen with thoughtful slowness. "I just want to make sure he i

ing he had done, everything he had left behind, was not talking about security. This only talked about betrayal, poorly healed injuries

dly. "Then remains far from him. Stay far

ke a slow poison, a bitter reflection. How could she have forgotten? How could she let herself be drawn into this trap once again? She didn't want to reme

ntained. He advanced with a step, a slow gesture, as if to reach out to her, towards the future, towards what they could have bee

tand. She hadn't changed, she. She had learned to defend herself, to protect what belonged to h

lf," she said in a dry, almost cr

his words, the coldness of his feelings, tore something in him, something deeply buried. His own feelings encountered a wall that he had

intensity that she had not seen in him for a long time. "You can't do th

here was too much pain, too much past for them so that she could accept her words. Too much betrayal. She was not ready to relive that. N

ll as firm. "I am much more capable than you think. An

have the courage to contradict her. She was right. Maybe. But at tha

rning, the silhouette of the alpha slowl

t beating stronger. She had rejected the storm, but she