Kael's POV
The moment we reached the packhouse, I carried Lyra up the stairs, cradling her as if she were made of glass. My thoughts were spinning out of control. Lyra had fought that beast. A beast that sent even the strongest werewolves scrambling for safety. She hadn't just faced it—she'd overpowered it. And then she let it go?
Could Melora have been right? Was Lyra's wolf as dangerous as she claimed?
No. I refused to believe that. Lyra was kind, brave, and selfless. But still… the sheer power I'd witnessed was undeniable.
I laid her gently on her bed and pulled the covers over her. She looked pale, her breaths shallow as if the fight had drained the very life out of her.
"Rest up," I said, brushing my thumb over her cheek. "I'll be back with some food."
As I turned to leave, her hand shot out, grabbing mine. Her grip was shaky but firm.
"Kael," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm terrified."
