Page 21

LYRA

L yra didn’t remember the walk back.

One second she was standing in the woods, staring at Jace like he might crack wide open if she looked too long—and the next, she was halfway across town, her feet moving on autopilot, her fingers clenched into fists tight enough to leave crescents on her palms.

The wind had teeth tonight.

Or maybe it was just the ache in her chest, sharp and cold and gnawing at the edges of her resolve.

Milo padded silently beside her, not saying a word. For once, the snark was gone. No sarcasm. No wisecracks. Just quiet pawsteps and the occasional glance that said, I’m here if you need me—even if I don’t know how to fix it.

She appreciated the silence more than she wanted to admit.

Because she was tired.

Tired of being strong. Tired of being patient. Tired of pretending she could keep untangling this knot that kept tightening every time Jace opened his mouth just enough to almost say what she needed to hear before locking it shut again.

Mate.

The word echoed in her head like a curse.

It was supposed to mean destiny. Completion. Some fated pull that wrapped two souls together so tightly they became something more than either of them could be alone.

But what good was fate if it came wrapped in rejection?

She reached her loft, hands shaking slightly as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The wards hummed low and familiar, a soft flutter of safety wrapping around her.

She didn’t bother turning on the lights.

Just dropped the basket on the table and collapsed onto the couch like her bones had given out.

Milo leapt up beside her, curling near her thigh. Still quiet.

For a long time, she just sat there.

Breathing. Thinking.

Trying not to cry.

Trying, and failing.

One tear slid down her cheek, then another. She swiped them away roughly, hating the heat of them.

“I’m not weak,” she muttered.

“No one said you were,” Milo replied gently.

She sniffed. “He didn’t even fight for me. Not really. He just said, You’re my mate, like it was a problem he had to explain away.”

Milo didn’t respond.

Lyra stared at the ceiling. “What if I don’t want to be someone’s mate? What if I want to be chosen, not fated? What if I don’t want to be handed off by the universe like a prize someone’s too scared to touch?”

Milo moved closer, pressing against her side. “Then you don’t have to be.”

She blinked at him.

He met her gaze with those deep, ancient eyes. “You don’t owe him anything. Not the bond. Not your heart. You get to choose what you do with both.”

Her throat tightened. “But I feel like I already gave him both. Even though I know I haven’t, not really. Some part of me feels like I have.”

Milo sighed, tail flicking. “Then make him earn it back.”

Lyra let her head fall back against the cushions. “You think he’ll try?”

“I think,” Milo said slowly, “he’s terrified. Not of you—but of everything else. And terrified men build walls instead of bridges.”

“Great,” she muttered. “I fell for a contractor.”

Milo snorted. “You fell for a wolf. A stubborn, brooding, honor-bound alpha who probably thinks denying himself is some kind of virtue.”

“It’s not.”

“Nope.”

“He’s going to lose me.”

“Yep.”

“And he’ll deserve it.”

Milo looked up. “But will you deserve to walk away from the one thing that might actually be yours? I’m not saying you owe him anything, but you owe yourself everything and a life of regret and the unknown is a long, lonely path. Trust me.”

Lyra swallowed.

Because she didn’t know. She didn’t know how to forgive someone for fearing her love. She didn’t know how to keep wanting something that hurt so much.

But she did know this.

If Jace wanted to keep her, he was going to have to stop holding her at arm’s length and start showing up with something real.

Not just protection. Not just instinct. But choice.

Because she was done waiting for him to figure out what she was worth.