The city skyline stretched endlessly beyond the tinted windows of the black SUV. Neon lights flickered in the distance, their glow casting fleeting reflections across Lyra's face as she stared out into the night. Her fingers tightened around the hem of her dress, a futile attempt to ground herself in the moment. The weight of what was to come pressed against her chest like an invisible chain.
A thousand years.
A thousand years since she had last stood by his side, since she had given her life for him. Now, she was back—not as his Luna, not as the woman he once loved—but as an offering, sent to appease the ruthless Alpha who had long since buried his heart in ice.
"Try to keep that head of yours down," a voice sneered from the passenger seat.
Lyra shifted her gaze to the front. Vivian, one of the council elders from the Silvercrest Pack, smirked at her through the rearview mirror, a cruel satisfaction evident in her eyes.
"You must be thrilled," Vivian continued, adjusting her sleek black suit. "You're finally getting the attention you always wanted—too bad it comes with a death sentence."
Lyra didn't respond. She knew the rumors. Every woman sent to Ethan had failed. Some fled, others never returned. He had no interest in mates, concubines, or alliances. He ruled with an iron fist, his name enough to send shivers down anyone's spine. But Lyra wasn't just anyone.
She forced herself to focus on the buildings passing by, towering skyscrapers cutting through the darkened sky like silent sentinels. This city, with its cold steel and glass, was a far cry from the world she had once known. Back then, their kingdom had been built of stone and moonlight, whispers of ancient magic woven into the air itself. Now, everything was suffocating—sterile and devoid of the life she remembered.
"Listen," Vivian's voice broke through her thoughts again. "You're here for one reason. To entertain him until he decides you're not worth it—like the rest."
Lyra's jaw tightened. She knew why she was here, and it wasn't to entertain anyone.
The SUV pulled up in front of a towering skyscraper, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the bustling city around it. Midnight Crest Tower—Ethan's domain.
Lyra's heart pounded as the door clicked open. The cool night air brushed against her skin, and for a brief second, she allowed herself to take a deep breath. This was it.
The two guards flanking the entrance barely spared her a glance as she stepped forward, her heels clicking against the marble steps. Their expressions were unreadable, but their postures screamed caution—no one got this close to Ethan Graves without consequence.
Inside, the lobby was vast, sterile, and devoid of warmth. The scent of power clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Lyra followed silently as Vivian led her toward the private elevator, the polished chrome doors sliding open with a soft chime.
As they ascended, she pressed her palm against the cool surface, her reflection staring back at her. This face—so different from the one Ethan once knew—would he recognize her? Would his soul know hers, even if his eyes did not?
Memories clawed at the edges of her mind, fragments of another life. Ethan's touch, the way he whispered her name under the silver glow of the moon, the way his gaze softened in the quiet moments when they were alone.
The elevator dinged, and the doors parted to reveal the penthouse office.
Dim lighting bathed the room in a soft glow, casting long shadows across the polished floors. And there he was.
Ethan stood with his back to her, staring out at the city below, a formidable figure dressed in sharp black. Even without seeing his face, the force of his presence hit her like a wave, stirring something deep within her—something she had long thought lost.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"I don't recall asking for another one," his voice was deep, cutting through the silence with the same edge she remembered.
Lyra swallowed hard, pushing down the flood of emotions threatening to surface. She forced her voice to remain steady. "I won't waste your time."
That made him turn.
His piercing gaze locked onto hers, dark and assessing, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered—an echo of recognition, perhaps.
The moment passed too quickly. His expression hardened, his features sculpted into the cold mask he now wore so effortlessly.
"You all do," he said, stepping forward, his movements precise, calculated.
Lyra held her ground, though every instinct screamed at her to kneel, to submit to the Alpha she once called hers. Instead, she met his gaze head-on, a silent battle of wills igniting between them.
He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing her presence, his eyes sweeping over her with a predator's scrutiny. "What makes you think you'll be any different?"
Because I already was, she thought.
"I don't," she said aloud instead, keeping her voice cool. "But I don't plan on running, either."
A slow smirk ghosted across his lips, but it held no warmth. "They all say that."
Lyra fought the urge to react, instead taking in the space around her. It was nothing like the Ethan she had once known—cold, lifeless, void of any trace of the man she had loved. No remnants of their past, no keepsakes of the life they had shared.
This wasn't just a man who had moved on; this was a man who had buried everything.
And yet, something in the way he looked at her told her that maybe, just maybe, the past wasn't as dead as he wanted it to be.
"You can leave now," he said, dismissing her with a flick of his hand.
Vivian stepped forward, but Lyra didn't move.
Instead, she took a step closer, meeting his gaze with a quiet intensity. "You can kill me if you want to," she said softly. "But I won't run. Not from you."
His eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them.
"Brave words," he murmured, his voice almost amused. "We'll see if you can live up to them."
Without another word, he turned back to the window, his dismissal clear.
Lyra finally let herself breathe, stepping back and following Vivian toward the door. She could feel Ethan's gaze burning into her back even as she left, and she knew—this was only the beginning.
She was here now. And she wasn't going anywhere.