The Hollow still reeked of blood and dust by the time the pack returned to Ravenguard territory, but no one spoke a word on the journey back. They walked in the shadow of Alaric's victory, a victory that had stunned the alliance packs into silence and forced even the most skeptical wolves to watch him with new wariness.
But the fight wasn't over.
Because now, the Luna Court had called a session.
The Council would vote: not on Alaric's right to lead but on Lyra's right to stay.
Inside the Council Hall, thick stone walls muffled the rising tension outside. Alaric stood like a fortress beside Lyra, his hand hovering near hers, close enough that she could feel his heat.
But he didn't touch her.
Not yet.
She hated that it mattered.
Across the room, the Council six Lunas, each a leader from one of the high-ranking allied packs, sat in a half-circle. All of them wore ceremonial cloaks and carefully masked expressions. They were here to determine if Lyra could continue to undergo the Luna Trials… or if she would be cast out of Ravenguard, bloodbond or not.
"I thought we were done proving ourselves," she muttered under her breath.
Alaric's jaw twitched. "Nothing is ever done. Not when you're not born into it."
The words were cold, but his voice was low and tight. Like it pained him to say it.
Lyra stepped forward before he could speak for her.
"I'm ready."
One of the Lunas, an older woman with silver braids and sharp green eyes narrowed her gaze. "Even after the Hollow? Even after Ronan called you his prize?"
Lyra didn't flinch. "I'm no one's prize. And if you're questioning whether I belong here, judge me for who I am not for what men want from me."
A few murmurs rose. One Luna Lady Danika smirked, seemingly impressed.
Another, stiffer one, scowled. "You speak with defiance."
"I speak with truth."
Alaric almost smiled.
The council began their questions. Rapid-fire. Brutal.
What are your intentions with this pack?
Are you loyal to Alaric or just bound to him?
Do you regret the Bloodbond?
Do you think yourself capable of leading beside him?
Lyra answered each one with clarity, even when her voice shook. Even when their words hit like lashes.
But it was the last question that truly cut it.
"Do you love him?"
Silence.
She could feel every heartbeat in the room waiting. Alaric's most of all.
Did she love him?
It was too soon.
Too much.
Too dangerous.
But even as she tried to guard her tongue, her body betrayed her and she looked at him.
And in his eyes, she saw every wall she had broken, every moment of restraint barely clinging to place.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "But I feel him under my skin. In my breath. And it terrifies me."
That seemed to satisfy some. Displease others. But it was the truth.
The council whispered among themselves, debating, eyes shifting between her and Alaric.
After long minutes, Lady Danika stood.
"The vote will be held tonight. You'll both be summoned."
And just like that, it was over for now.
That night, the tension in the packhouse was unbearable. Lyra paced her room while the wind howled beyond the windows.
A soft knock broke her spiral.
She opened it to find Alaric tired, blood still crusted on his temple, but eyes locked on her like a predator who'd finally cornered what he wanted.
"Come in," she said quietly.
The door shut behind him, and the moment stretched tight and dangerous between them.
"You were incredible today," he said.
"I spoke. That's all."
"No. You showed them who you are. You made them listen."
She stepped toward him. "And you fought for more than territory today."
Their gazes clashed like steel against fire.
The silence became charged breathless, heavy with things unspoken.
He stepped closer, slowly, like giving her a chance to stop him.
She didn't.
"You terrify me too," he murmured. "But I want you. Not because of the bond. Not because of power. But because every time I look at you, I forget what I was before."
Her breath hitched. "Then show me."
His mouth crashed against hers.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet.
It was raw.
A collision of hunger and restraint breaking apart his hands gripping her waist, pulling her into the furnace of his body. Her fingers tangled in his hair as their kiss deepened, desperate and wild, like they were claiming something denied for too long.
She gasped as he backed her toward the bed, his lips moving to her neck, teeth grazing the bond mark there and her knees nearly gave out.
Heat bloomed in her belly as his hands roamed, tugging at her clothes, baring her inch by inch, worshipping and devouring her in the same breath.
And when she tugged his shirt off and saw the bruises left by Ronan, she stilled.
"You're hurt."
"So are you," he rasped, brushing his mouth over her collarbone. "Let me take that pain away."
Then he did with every kiss down her body, every whispered word that undid her defenses.
Their bodies tangled like war and surrender.
It was messy. Fierce. Honest.
He didn't just touch her, he consumed her.
And she gave as good as she got.
When they collapsed together in the aftermath, sweat-slicked and tangled in sheets, Lyra lay with her head on his chest, heart thundering.
The bond between them pulsed but not with obligation.
With choice.
For the first time, she didn't feel trapped.
She felt wanted.
They were still tangled together when the knock came.
Kael's voice called through the door.
"It's time. The Council has summoned you."
Lyra rose, heart hammering again but for different reasons now.
Alaric watched her dress with a look that almost made her lose her nerve again.
"You'll be fine," he said. "You were born for this."
She turned to him, still unsure.
"No. I wasn't. But I'm ready now."
Together, they stepped into the dark corridor no longer enemies, not quite lovers, but something far more dangerous.
Partners.