She took my place "The Alpha's decision"

, yet impersonal, cabin tucked on the outside ring of the pack's main settlement, normally intended for visiting dignitaries or temporar

put her inside with low words of "Rest, Luna," before withdrawing, slamming the thick oak door behind t

vily, thick with the aroma of unknown cedar and the lingering ghost of her fury. The wrath,

e

ss of her identity, a proclamation to the whole Moonstone Pack that Luna Lyra was no more. Her heart

here her mate connection used to sing. She squeezed harder as if she could force the link back, conjure t

red. He explained it

own to disrupt a fated mate link. Not actually. It may be weakened, stretched, challenged, but never broken. Not by natural methods. Lyra

on the cold stone floor. Each step was an accusatio

fleeting, so faint, a tiny ghost of a grin that faded before Lyra could be certain. But Lyra had seen it. She

Woods spread out beyond the cottage, its familiar silhouette now seeming to mock her. They had always b

word a sad cry. "How could y

to adore her. The one who had stared at her with passion and adoration. But the picture was contaminated, coa

evastated, betrayed. She hid her face in her hands, letting the tears pour, hot and stinging on her damaged cheeks. Ag

ut but with a remarkable clarity. The weariness, both physical and mental,

heart. She was Lyra. She was a fighter. And she was

ofound, her wolf was still inside her. Quiet, injured, but alive. And he

tle, strong wooden desk in the corner of the cottage. On it lay a few dusty books, possi

f old stories, of lost rites, of the darkest history of the Moonstone Pack, spanning decades before Thorn

ofound power that flowed through their veins. Her fingertips t

ining secrets. She flipped to a random page, her eyes searching the worn letters.

's answer was too straightforward. Too convenient. He had argued her injuries severed the link. But

lara, that slight grin. A scary thought solidifi

was either blind or kno

the guy she loved, the Alpha she trusted, could be so

aced the complicated, esoteric patterns on the first page. She could be physically injured, emotionally de

cottage, with this antique book. She w

t with blood, not yet. But with the c

gloom, Lyra felt a fledgling spark of purpose burn inside the empty

ra understood, a new type of power was rising. And she was

of the old moon seemed to respond. What they told h