I made myself at home in Lyra's apartment, casually examining the space as I listened to the shower running in the bathroom. The place was so... Lyra. Neat, organized, with medical textbooks arranged alphabetically on a bookshelf and not a single thing out of place. It was the complete opposite of the chaos currently swirling in my mind.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Then again. And again.
I shouldn't look. It wasn't my business.
But the protective instinct in me—the wolf who couldn't stop thinking about that priest watching her—overrode my better judgment. I glanced down at the screen.
Dr. Ian: *Lyra, please call me back. I'm worried.*
Dr. Ian: *Just let me know you're safe.*
Dr. Ian: *I can come over if you need me.*
Eight missed calls from the same contact.
