Page 29

LYRA

T he first thing she felt was cold.

Not the kind that came from air or stone, but the kind that sank in —quiet, thick, like it was part of her now. Her magic was quiet, dull beneath her skin like a song half-forgotten.

Lyra blinked her eyes open slowly.

A room.

Circular. Carved in gray stone. Soft torchlight flickering over the high-arched ceiling. One window—barred and glowing with enchantments she didn’t recognize—and a thick door etched with layered runes that pulsed each time she moved.

She tried to sit up and hissed.

Her wrists were bound, not with rope, but shimmering golden cuffs—magic restraints, slick with Ezra’s brand of charmcraft. Her ankles were tethered too, though loosely. Enough to let her pace. Not enough to run.

And it hit her, all at once.

The forest. The fight. The burn in her muscles.

The trap.

A shadow moved near the door.

She looked up, jaw clenched.

Ezra stepped into the room like he was strolling into a dinner party. Immaculate. Relaxed. Polished as ever in a charcoal coat with silver embroidery at the cuffs, hair slicked back like the chaos around him didn’t touch his world.

“Well,” he said, voice smooth and infuriating, “you’re awake.”

“Wish I wasn’t,” she muttered.

His mouth curled into something that might’ve passed for a smile if you didn’t know it was a lie.

"You'll get comfortable eventually."

Lyra sat up straighter despite the ache behind her eyes, the stone floor cold beneath her. The torchlight caught the silver streaks in her auburn curls as she moved. "I'm not here for long," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Oh?" He folded his hands behind his back, cocking his head with that practiced elegance that made her want to hex him on principle. His silver embroidery glinted as he shifted. "You think the Alpha's coming?"

She didn't answer, but her moss-green eyes narrowed, focusing on the runes pulsing along the doorframe instead of his smug face.

Ezra chuckled, the sound echoing off the circular stone walls.

"You don't even know if he can feel you, do you?

I mean, he's so busy weighing the 'needs of the pack' against his oh-so-untimely feelings , I wouldn't be surprised if he missed the part where you were kidnapped from his doorstep.

" His voice dripped with mock sympathy, each word carefully chosen to slice.

"Shut up," she bit out, the golden cuffs warming against her skin as her anger flared.

"Touchy." He traced a finger along one of the wall carvings, leaving a trail of faint light in its wake.

"Your charm act doesn't work on me." Lyra tugged experimentally at her restraints, feeling for any weakness in the magic binding her. There was none—Ezra's charmcraft was frustratingly thorough.

He stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking against the stone floor. "Doesn't it?"

She refused to flinch. Refused to let him see the tremble that wanted to crack through her shoulders. Instead, she stared him down, channeling every ounce of the defiance that had gotten her kicked out of her coven in the first place.

Ezra crouched to eye level, eyes gleaming like a predator who thought his prey was already cornered. The scent of expensive cologne and something darker—something magical and wrong—wafted from him. "You think you're his mate."

"I am ," she snapped, feeling the truth of it vibrate in her bones.

He smiled wider, all teeth and no warmth. "But has he claimed you?"

Silence filled the space between them, heavy and accusing.

"Has he marked you? Said the words? Even promised you anything?" Each question landed like a small blade, precisely aimed.

Her heart thudded, slow and painful, echoing in her ears. The chaos magic inside her stirred weakly against the restraints, reaching for something—someone—beyond these walls.

Ezra's gaze softened just enough to be dangerous, a calculated show of false concern. "You're smart, Lyra. You've read the lore. You know what it means when a bond is neglected. It frays. Weakens. It breaks ." His voice caressed the last word almost lovingly.

"I don't care." She twisted one of her enchanted rings with her thumb, wishing desperately it still held its power.

"You should ." His breath ghosted across her face.

"I said I don't." The silver in her hair seemed to brighten momentarily with her defiance.

He leaned in, close enough that she could see the flecks of amber in his otherwise dark eyes. "Because you think he'll come."

She met his eyes, steady as the earth beneath her magic. "Because I know he will."

Ezra rose with a slow sigh, straightening his immaculate coat. "He'll be too late."

"You sure about that?" she asked, a hint of her usual mischief flickering back to life in her voice.

The faintest crack showed in his mask—a tightening around the eyes, a momentary stillness.

Lyra leaned forward, the chains at her ankles clinking softly. "You kidnapped an alpha's mate. You think you've got time? He's probably tearing through every ward line in this forest right now." The image of Jace—storm-grey eyes blazing, shoulders tense with fury—gave her strength.

Ezra's jaw twitched, the only tell in his otherwise perfect composure.

"Yeah," she said softly, seizing the advantage. "That hit a nerve."

Ezra turned, pacing once across the circular room, his reflection distorted in the enchanted window.

Then stopped at the enchanted door, his fingers hovering over the pulsing runes.

"You'll see. Soon enough. That mark you think you feel?

It's nothing but instinct. Biology. And it fades. Eventually."

"You're wrong." Her voice was quiet but certain, like the whisper of a spell that couldn't be undone.

He smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We'll see."

And then he was gone, the heavy door closing behind him with a sound like finality, leaving the room colder than before. The torchlight flickered, casting long shadows across the floor.

Lyra slumped back against the wall, her breath catching in her chest. The enchanted cuffs bit into her wrists as she exhaled.

She was shaking, the tremors she'd been holding back finally breaking free.

Furious. Scared. But not broken . Her silver-streaked curls fell around her face as she closed her eyes, centering herself the way she'd been taught since childhood.

Not yet.

Because she felt Jace now. Clearer than before. A pulse through the bond like a distant heartbeat. A warmth rising beneath the cuffs that bound her, pushing against Ezra's magic with something older and more primal.

A promise.

She clutched it tight, curling her fingers into her palms until her nails left half-moon imprints.

And waited, gathering her strength for what was to come.