The Breaking

Lyria’s POV

I hadn’t slept. I’d spent the entire night standing at the edge of the woods, letting the cold bite into my skin until it numbed the rage twisting through my veins.

By sunrise, I’d decided two things.

I wouldn’t confront Rowan.

And I wouldn’t stay silent.

I would expose him.

The Council Hall doors loomed tall before me carved cedar, scarred by generations of trials, executions, and rulings passed in the name of pack unity. My palms were sweating when I pushed them open. A dozen heads turned. The Elders. Their advisors. Rowan.

He stood near the center, back straight, expression perfectly curated authority and gentleness in equal measure. The mask I had once loved.

His gaze landed on me, surprised at first… then sharp, calculating.

“Lyria?” he said, his voice coated in false warmth. “You look pale. Are you unwell?”

I stepped forward, throat tight but steady. “I need to speak to the Council.”

A ripple of whispers stirred the room. Rowan’s eyes narrowed just the slightest twist of irritation he quickly smoothed.

“Of course,” Elder Damos said, motioning to the center. “Approach.”

I did. And as I walked past Rowan, he angled his body subtly toward me.

A warning gesture.

One the Council didn’t notice.

My heart thudded. The moon-mark on my wrist the symbol of our upcoming bond pulsed faintly, like a bruise forming beneath the skin.

“Speak,” Elder Serine commanded.

I opened my mouth… but Rowan spoke first.

“Forgive me,” he said, stepping forward, voice edged with practiced grief. “But I fear Lyria comes with dangerous intentions.”

A murmur buzzed through the hall.

My blood ran cold.

“I discovered last night,” Rowan continued, “that she has been communicating with foreign packs. Whispering doubts about Bloodshield leadership. Creating unrest.”

“What?” I choked. “That’s a lie.”

But he raised his hand, silencing me.

“She approached me after the Binding preparations,” he said, his voice cracking— cracking as though the guilt weighed heavily on him. “She begged me to leave the pack with her. To rebel. To overthrow the Council.”

Every word struck like a blade to my ribs. I stared at him, unable to move, unable to breathe.

He wasn’t just discarding me.

He was framing me.

Elder Serine’s gaze sharpened. “Lyria Vayne… is this true?”

“No!” My voice broke open. “I would never He’s the one lying! He”

Rowan stepped closer, lowering his voice so only the Elders and I could hear.

“You should have stayed quiet,” he whispered. “I warned you.”

I froze.

He knew I’d heard him and Mira.

He knew I’d intended to speak.

And this… was the price.

“Lyria,” Elder Damos said, his tone heavy with disappointment, “spreading treason is punishable by death.”

The room spun. My wolf clawed helplessly at my insides. Rowan’s hand brushed my arm — gentle to anyone watching, but the quiet pressure was a threat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But you were becoming a liability.”

The guards closed in around me.

The mask had fallen, and I finally saw the man behind it not my promised mate. Not my protector.

My executioner.

And as their hands gripped my arms, as chains closed around my wrists, I realized the truth:

I wasn’t just losing Rowan.

I was losing my life.