Lyra's eyes never left Atlas as he stood a few steps away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Lyra could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know whether it was from anger or something else entirely.
"So, what's the plan then?" she asked, her voice colder than she intended.
Atlas turned slowly, his gaze intense as he met her eyes. "We hunt the traitor. I'll lead the way."
"And what makes you think I'm following you?" She raised an eyebrow, her lip forming into a smirk. "You think just because you've got that Alpha blood running through your veins, you can make all the decisions?"
"You'll follow me because it's what's best for both packs.." Atlas said, his voice low, steady. "I'm not here to play games, Lyra. So stop being such a crybaby."
There it was again, the way he always spoke like he had everything figured out, like he had the power to make every decision for everyone. It made Lyra's blood boil, but she kept herself in check. This wasn't the time for petty fights. Not when a traitor was lurking in the shadows, ready to tear everything apart.
"You know, I didn't come here for you to tell me what to do." Lyra said, her gaze flickering to the distant trees. "I've been leading my own pack for years now. I don't need you to hold my hand."
Atlas's rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to hold your hand. But if you want to survive what's coming, you'll need to trust me."
Lyra exhaled sharply. She hated the fact that a small part of her did want to trust him again, despite everything that had happened between them. The rejection. The years apart. She couldn't shake it. There was still a connection between them, something deep-rooted and undeniable.
But that didn't mean she was going to make it easy for him.
"Fine." she said after a long pause. "We hunt together. But you keep your distance."
Atlas nodded, though his expression didn't soften. "Agreed."
As they made their way through the woods, the tension between them simmered, like two predators stalking the same prey. The sounds of their footsteps blended with the occasional rustle of leaves and distant calls of other wolves. Lyra kept her senses sharp, her eyes scanning every shadow for any sign of movement. They both knew the traitor could be lurking anywhere.
The deeper they ventured into the forest, the more the air around them seemed to grow heavier, like something was watching them from the darkness. Lyra felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder. The wind shifted, bringing with it the familiar scent of pine and earth, but something else lingered beneath it. Something... off.
"You feel that?" Lyra whispered, her voice barely audible.
Atlas's nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. "Yeah." he said, his voice tight. "Someone's been here recently. Stay close."
They quickened their pace, moving in sync but maintaining enough distance to keep each other in sight. Lyra's mind raced. Who could be out here? Was it the traitor? Or someone else?
Suddenly, a low growl pierced the silence, sending a shiver down Lyra's spine. She froze, her muscles tensing as she scanned the shadows around them. Atlas stopped beside her, his eyes narrowing, and his posture shifted, ready for whatever might come.
Another growl echoed from the trees. It was closer this time. A pack of wolves, but not from either of their factions.
Lyra's eyes met Atlas's, and without a word, they both shifted into their wolf forms. In a blur of motion, fur replaced skin, and sharp claws sank into the ground as they crouched low to the earth. Lyra's pink fur stood out against the dark foliage, her glowing eyes scanning the surroundings with heightened senses. Atlas's dark wolf form moved beside her, sleek and powerful, as they both prepared for what was coming.
The growling grew louder, and then, from the shadows, emerged a group of rogue wolves. They were lean and vicious, their eyes glowing with a predatory gleam.
"Rogue wolves!" Lyra growled, her hackles raised. "What are they doing here?"
Atlas didn't answer. He lunged forward, a blur of black fur, and collided with the nearest rogue. Lyra followed suit, her sharp claws swiping at another rogue wolf, sending it stumbling back. The pack fought with vicious intent, their eyes filled with malice.
Lyra fought with precision, every strike calculated, her instincts guiding her as she moved with lethal grace. The rogue wolves were strong, but they were no match for her experience and training. She could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, her muscles responding with deadly accuracy. She was a warrior, and this was what she was born to do.
The battle raged on for what felt like hours, but in reality, it was only a few minutes before the rogue wolves began to retreat. Their leader, a massive gray wolf with glowing amber eyes, hesitated for a moment, sizing up Lyra and Atlas.
"Get out of here " Lyra snarled, her voice sharp and commanding. "This land belongs to our packs."
The rogue wolf growled low in his throat, but after a tense moment, he turned and vanished into the forest, his pack following suit. Lyra stood panting, her chest heaving as the adrenaline began to wear off. Her fur was matted with dirt and blood, but she felt alive, the thrill of the fight coursing through her.
Atlas shifted back to his human form, his expression unreadable. He wiped the blood from his face and glanced at Lyra, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and wariness.
"You're still as fierce as I remember." he said quietly, though his words didn't seem to have the same warmth they once did.
Lyra didn't respond. Instead, she shifted back into her human form, brushing the dirt from her clothes and wiping a streak of blood from her cheek.
"We've got work to do." she said, her voice flat. "Let's keep moving."
Atlas nodded, falling into step beside her. The distance between them remained, but Lyra could feel the old connection simmering beneath the surface, like an ember waiting to ignite.
The traitor was still out there, and Lyra couldn't afford to let her guard down, no matter what feelings and memories started to resurface.