Lucas
The first thing I notice is how quiet it is.
Not the pack. Not the manor. Those are never truly quiet. It's something else — something inside me that should be there and isn't.
I'm halfway through pulling on my shirt when I reach for the bond.
It isn't a decision. It's habit. The same way you check that a door is locked or a weapon is within reach. A reflex so ingrained I don't even think about it.
Nothing answers.
I pause, fingers still wrapped in fabric.
I reach again.
Harder this time. Focused. Intentional.
Still nothing.
The absence hits like a misstep in the dark — that brief, stomach-dropping moment before impact. Not pain. Not resistance.
Just… gone.
My chest tightens.
No. That's not possible.
I push outward again, forcing my awareness to where the bond has always been. I expect resistance, interference, something. A wall. A knot. Even pain would make sense.
There is only silence.
Cold, clean, unmistakable.
My heartbeat starts to pound, sharp and fast, and heat crawls up my neck as the room seems to narrow around me. This isn't how bonds end. They don't just disappear overnight. They weaken. They fray. They fight.
They don't vanish.
Someone did this.
The thought settles immediately, solid and certain.
Interference. Sabotage. A spell layered beneath my notice. Ava's allies. John. That smug, watchful bastard.
My jaw clenches.
I finish dressing with abrupt movements and stride out into the hall. Wolves step aside automatically, but I feel it now — the difference. The way their eyes linger. The way their bodies hesitate a fraction longer than they should.
I don't like it.
Lyra is already awake, seated near the window with a cup of tea, posture perfect even in the early light. She looks up when I enter, smiling easily.
"You left early," she says. "I thought you'd still be asleep."
"Something's wrong," I say flatly.
Her smile fades, just enough to be convincing. "What is it?"
"Ava, the bond," I say. "It's gone."
She blinks. "Gone? Didn't she reject you? I thought....." I cut off her stupid questions
"That's not the point. It was there last night," I snap. "I felt it. And now—" I cut myself off, clenching my fists. "Nothing."
She studies me carefully, then sets the cup aside. "Then someone interfered."
Relief flares sharp and immediate.
"Yes."
She rises, moving closer. "Who would have access?"
I don't answer. My mind is already racing, cataloging names, faces, slights. I'm halfway down the corridor before she finishes the question.
"Lucas," she calls after me, "wait—"
I don't.
By midmorning, the pack hall is filled again. Guards at the doors. Wolves standing in tense clusters, voices low. I take my place on the dais, jaw tight, hands braced on the stone.
"This pack has been violated," I announce. "Someone has interfered with my bond."
Murmurs ripple through the room.
"Until I know who," I continue, "no one leaves. I want every healer, every shaman, every ally questioned. Now."
A wolf near the back shifts uncomfortably. "Alpha… with respect—"
"With respect," I interrupt, "you will do as you're told."
Silence falls.
Then someone — braver or stupider than the rest — says it.
"Ava isn't your mate anymore."
The words land like a spark on oil.
I don't remember crossing the distance. One moment I'm on the dais, the next my hand is fisted in his collar, my strength driving him backward into the pillar. Bone cracks. He slides down, gasping.
I stand over him, breath coming hard, claws half-extended.
"Say it again," I tell him quietly. "And I'll make sure you don't say anything ever again."
I could feel my aura rolling off me like smoke
"If I say she is mine, that means you fucking find out who took her from me and which traitor I must find and kill."
Lyra moves quickly, placing herself just close enough to be seen, not close enough to be threatened.
"The Alpha is under strain," she says smoothly. "Choose your words carefully."
I turn back to the pack, nostrils flaring. My skin itches — not with anger alone, but something deeper. A pressure under my ribs, hot and restless, like my wolf is pacing in a cage too small for it.
This is power, I tell myself.
This is what authority feels like when it's tested.
But as the pack disperses, I feel it again — the hollow where the bond used to be. No grounding. No steady pull.
Just me.
Later, in the quiet of my chambers, the truth presses in whether I want it to or not.
Without that bond… something in me is slipping.
I press a hand to my chest, jaw clenched, refusing to name the thought that follows.
That it wasn't love.
That it was restraint.
And now it's gone.
Lyra follows me back to our chambers after the hall clears.
She doesn't rush. She never does. That calm is one of the things I liked about her once — the way she doesn't flinch, doesn't hover, doesn't beg for reassurance.
But tonight it feels… insufficient.
She closes the door behind us softly. "You shouldn't have done that," she says. Not accusing. Measured.
I turn on her sharply. "Don't."
Her brows knit. "Lucas, I'm not questioning your authority. I'm trying to protect it."
"I don't need protecting," I snap.
The words come out harsher than I intend, but I don't pull them back.
She studies me for a moment, then steps closer, lowering her voice. "You're under strain. Anyone would be. Losing a bond—"
"I didn't lose it," I cut in. "It was taken."
A pause.
Lyra exhales slowly. "Even if that's true, lashing out at the pack isn't going to fix it."
I laugh, sharp and humorless. "You think I don't know that?"
She opens her mouth, then closes it again, choosing her next words carefully. "You're not… steady," she says finally.
Something in me twists.
"Careful," I warn.
"I'm on your side," she replies. "But you feel different. Last night—" She hesitates. "Last night you felt… different."
That hits harder than it should.
I turn away, pacing the room, fingers flexing like I'm trying to shake something loose. Larger. That's the word for it. The sensation of space inside me, of weight and gravity and inevitability.
It's gone now.
What's left feels narrower.
Contained.
I stop abruptly and face her.
"You're saying I'm weaker."
"No," she says quickly. "I'm saying the power has changed."
"Because of Ava," I snarl.
Lyra stiffens.
"I didn't say that."
"But you thought it."
Silence stretches between us.
For a split second — a dangerous, treacherous second — a thought crosses my mind.
Did I choose wrong?
The question is small, almost timid, and I hate it instantly.
I shove it away.
No.
Lyra is here. Ava is gone. That's reality. Anything else is nostalgia dressed up as doubt.
I straighten, forcing my shoulders back.
"You're my Luna," I say firmly. "That hasn't changed."
She nods, but there's something unreadable in her eyes now.
"Of course."
I step closer, placing my hands on her hips, grounding myself in the solidity of her. She's real. Present. Mine. I kiss her — harder than before — not gentle, not tender.
She kisses me back, but it's different.
Less instinctive.
When we break apart, she doesn't smile.
"You're tired," she says. "You should rest." I scoff.
"I don't need rest."
But when she leaves the room, I find myself standing alone, staring at my hands like they belong to someone else.
I reach for the bond again.
Nothing.
Just Lyra's presence behind me — warm, chosen.
And it isn't enough.
The realization hits like a punch to the gut.
I clench my fists, nails biting into my palms.
This isn't loss, I tell myself. This is transition. This is recalibration.
I didn't choose wrong.
I chose power.
Whatever is missing will return in time.
It has to.
Because the alternative — that Ava was doing something I didn't even realize she was doing, that her presence had been making me stronger without my knowledge — is unacceptable.
I won't entertain it.
I am Alpha.
I am in control.
I always had power.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I don't go back to Lyra.
I can't.
The walls feel wrong now.
Too close.
Too quiet.
I head down the west corridor instead.
My father's door is open.
Of course it is.
I don't knock.
I push it open.
He doesn't flinch.
"You made a spectacle of yourself," he says, still reading.
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
"No," he says calmly. "You made sure I heard it anyway."
"My bond is gone," I snap. "Someone interfered."
That gets his attention—barely.
"With who?"
"With Ava."
A pause.
Then irritation.
"You're serious."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He leans back slightly. "Lucas… Ava left the pack weeks ago."
The words don't land right.
"What?"
"She left. No explanation. Just gone."
"That's not possible."
"It already happened."
"She would've come to me."
He looks at me properly now.
"Would she?"
My jaw tightens. "Where is she?"
He shrugs.
"I assumed she found her fated and ran off to another pack."
"No."
"She didn't have a wolf. She was weak. The pack treated her like it."
I don't respond.
"I didn't think it was worth mentioning," he adds. "You had Lyra."
My hands curl.
"You didn't tell me."
"You didn't ask."
That hits.
Hard.
"She wasn't important," he continues. "Not to the pack. And clearly not to you, or you would've noticed she was gone."
"She belongs here," I say.
"With you?"
I don't answer.
Because the bond is gone.
Because I didn't notice.
"She made her choice," he says. "And you made yours. Stop embarrassing yourself over a nobody."
Nobody.
"She didn't run," I say low.
"She already did."
Silence stretches.
"You're Alpha," he continues. "Act like it. Or step down before the pack starts asking why you're losing control over a girl who couldn't even shift."
That's enough.
I turn and leave.
The corridor feels colder now.
Longer.
She left.
Weeks ago.
And I didn't notice.
No.
I shove it down hard.
She didn't leave.
She's testing me.
That's all this is.
The bond was still there.
I felt it.
That means something.
It has to.
Because the alternative—
That she walked away completely—
Is not something I'm willing to accept.