~Lyra (Selene)
---
The infirmary's stone walls press in, heavy with the scent of blood and herbs. My hands move over a warrior's torn shoulder, stitching flesh with needle and thread, but it's my magic that does the real work. A faint pulse of warmth flows from my fingertips, knitting muscle and sinew beneath the surface, subtle enough to pass as skill. The warrior, a grizzled beta named Kael, groans softly, his breathing easing as the pain fades. I keep my silver eyes lowered, hiding the glow that threatens to betray me. I'm Selene, the rogue healer, not Lyra, the omega who died for loving an alpha who didn't love her back.
Killian's presence lingers in my mind, his growl from last night—Mine—echoing like a wound that won't heal. My wolf whines, desperate for him, but I shove her down, focusing on the scar across my cheek, a jagged reminder of his rejection. Three years ago, he chose Mara, the golden-haired Luna who stands across the room now, her blue eyes boring into me like daggers. She's watching every move, waiting for a slip, a reason to call me a spy or worse. My magic hums, a dangerous secret I can't afford to reveal, not when I'm so close to tearing Killian's world apart.
"Impressive," Rowan says, leaning against the wall, his hazel eyes glinting with curiosity. His boyish grin is familiar, a ghost of the friend who stood by me before my exile. "Kael was half-dead an hour ago. You're no ordinary healer, Selene."
I forced a smile, tucking a strand of dark hair behind my ear. "Just good training," I lie, my voice steady despite the mate bond's pull, stirring my wolf every time I think of Killian. "I've patched up worse in rogue camps."
Mara steps closer, her jasmine scent cloying, her voice sharp as a blade. "Rogue camps," she says, her lips curling. "Convenient, showing up when Bloodclaw's raiding our borders. How do we know you're not one of them?"
My wolf snarls, but I keep my face calm, meeting her gaze. "If I were Bloodclaw, I'd be a terrible spy, saving your warriors." I nod to Kael, who's sitting up now, flexing his healed shoulder. "Test my work, Luna. It holds."
Kael grunts, nodding. "Feels better than new." His gruff approval makes Mara's jaw tighten, but she doesn't back down.
"Keep her in line, Rowan," she snaps, turning on her heel. "Killian may trust her, but I don't." Her words are a warning, and my magic flares, itching to lash out. I clenched my fists, forcing it down. Mara orchestrated my exile—I'm sure of it. Her jealousy, her ambition, they reek of guilt. She'll pay, but not yet. I need the pack's trust first.
Rowan watches her go, then leans in, his voice low. "She's got a point, you know. You're too good at this. What's your story, Selene?" His tone is playful, but his eyes are sharp, searching for cracks in my facade.
I shrugged, cleaning my hands with a rag. "No story. Just a rogue who learned to survive." The lie tastes bitter, but it's all I have. Rowan was my friend once, but he stood by when Killian cast me out. I can't trust him, no matter how much my wolf wants to.
The infirmary door creaks, and Killian's scent—smoke and pine—floods the room. My wolf surges, the mate bond, a wildfire in my veins, and I grip the cot to steady myself. He's a wall of muscle, his emerald eyes flashing gold as they lock on me. The scar on his brow catches the lantern light, a reminder of the battles he's fought since I left. His presence fills the room, commanding, but there's a shadow in his gaze—guilt, maybe, or suspicion. I hate how it makes my heart ache.
"Selene," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. "Kael's recovery is… remarkable." His eyes narrowed, searching for mine, and I forced my magic to stay hidden, my scent cloaked in ash and wildflowers. "You've earned a place, for now. But don't think you're free. Darius watches your every move."
I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "I understand, Alpha. I'm here to help." The words are a lie, but they come easily. Every moment in Blackthorn is a step toward my revenge, toward shattering the man who broke me. But the mate bond betrays me, my wolf aching for his touch, his warmth. I focus on the scar, the pain, the memory of his cold words: You're too weak, Lyra.
He steps closer, his scent overwhelming, and my magic flickers, a spark I barely contain. "Don't give me a reason to doubt you," he says, his voice low, a challenge and a warning. My wolf whines, desperate to answer, but I hold her back, nodding silently. He lingers a moment, his gaze piercing, then turns to leave, his broad shoulders tense.
As the door shuts, I exhale, my hands trembling. I can't let him get to me. I'm here to destroy him, not fall for him again. But my wolf doesn't care about revenge, and neither does the bond that burns between us.
I returned to the wounded, tending a young scout with a gash across his chest. My magic flows again, subtle and precise, healing the wound as I murmur reassurances. But as my hands work, a vision slams into me, sharp and searing. Mist swirls in my mind, revealing Bloodclaw wolves creeping through the Frostfang Mountains, their claws gleaming under moonlight. At their head is a shadowy figure, cloaked in darkness, with violet eyes that pulse with unnatural power. A traitor's scent—familiar, like cedar and betrayal—lingers in the vision, but I can't place it. My heart pounds, the vision fading as I grip the scout's cot, my breath ragged.
Rowan's at my side in an instant, his hand on my shoulder. "Selene, you okay? You went pale." His concern is genuine, but I can't trust it, not when the traitor could be anyone.
"Just… dizzy," I say, forcing a weak smile. "Healing takes it out of me." Another lie, but he nods, though his eyes linger, suspicious.
I glanced at Mara, who'd returned, her gaze locked on me from the doorway. She saw my reaction, and her smile was cold, calculating. My magic hums, warning me she's dangerous, but the vision's shadowy traitor feels closer, more immediate. Someone in Blackthorn is working with Bloodclaw, maybe with the violet-eyed figure—Varkis, a name from pack legends, whispered by elders. My prophetic gift, a curse as much as a blessing, is the only thing keeping me ahead of them.
I finished with the scout, my mind racing. I needed to warn the pack about the attack, but without exposing my visions. An anonymous note, maybe, slipped to Darius. It's risky, but I can't let Bloodclaw strike first. Not when I'm so close to unravelling Killian's world.
As I clean my hands, Mara's voice cuts through the air. "Careful, Selene," she says, her tone dripping with venom. "Secrets have a way of bleeding out in Blackthorn." Her eyes flick to my scar, and my wolf snarls, sensing her threat. I hold her gaze, letting her see the steel beneath my calm. She may be Luna, but I'm no longer the omega she helped destroy.
The vision's shadowy traitor lingers in my mind, violet eyes watching from the dark.