Once, he'd trailed after her everywhere, eyes bright with adoration, promising to complete their mating bond the moment they came of age. He'd sworn to give her the grandest ceremony in the territory, to make every pack celebrate their union. Back then, his voice had been reverent, sincere. He'd memorized her favorite moonflowers, the style of ceremonial dress she wanted, planned every detail with breathless excitement—as though binding himself to her would be the greatest fortune of his life.
And now, this ceremony he'd once begged to give her had become a consolation prize. A way to dismiss her. A favor tossed to an Omega who should be grateful for any scraps of his attention.
For days, Fenris hadn't set foot in the healing wing.
Lyra couldn't have cared less. She welcomed the quiet. Each day the pack healers changed her bandages, let her wounds knit together under careful poultices, and she counted down to her release—just two more weeks, and she'd cross the borders into foreign territory, leaving this pack of betrayal and pain behind forever.
But on the morning she was set to leave, the door to her recovery chamber swung open, and an unwelcome visitor walked in.
Selene.