Lyra sat by the large window of her suite, gazing at the sprawling city below. The bright lights and the hum of life outside contrasted starkly with the suffocating silence within Midnight Crest Tower. A thousand years ago, she had been surrounded by people—her pack, her mate, her purpose. Now, she was a ghost in someone else's skin, trapped in a world that no longer felt like her own.
Her fingers traced absent patterns along the smooth glass, her mind drifting back to the way Ethan had looked at her the night before. There had been no warmth in his gaze, no sign that he remembered her. And yet, beneath the ice, there was something—something raw and unspoken.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Lyra tensed, her heart pounding as she rose from the plush chair and crossed the room. When she opened the door, a tall figure stood in the hallway, not Ethan, but another man she hadn't seen before.
"Miss Quinn?" he asked, his tone professional and clipped.
"Yes," she replied cautiously.
"I'm Logan," he introduced himself, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "Head of Ethan's security."
Lyra eyed him warily. He was broad-shouldered, with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes that scanned her with practiced precision.
"He asked me to ensure you're… comfortable," Logan continued, his eyes lingering on her for a moment too long.
Lyra's lips pressed into a thin line. "I appreciate the hospitality, but I don't need a babysitter."
Logan's smirk was brief but knowing. "It's not about what you need, Miss Quinn. It's about what the Alpha wants."
Lyra folded her arms, refusing to let her unease show. "And what does he want?"
"To figure out what you're doing here."
His words sent a shiver down her spine, but she masked it with a composed expression. She couldn't let anyone see just how much Ethan's indifference—or scrutiny—affected her.
"I'm here because your pack sent for me," she said smoothly. "Not by choice, I might add."
Logan tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Right. Just like all the others before you."
Lyra's jaw clenched, but she forced herself to smile. "I'm not like the others."
Logan gave her a long, searching look before nodding once. "We'll see about that."
He turned to leave but paused at the door. "Dinner's in an hour. The Alpha expects you to attend."
Lyra's stomach twisted at the thought. Facing Ethan again so soon wasn't something she was prepared for, but she knew it was inevitable.
"Fine," she said, keeping her voice steady.
As Logan left, Lyra shut the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes. She needed to stay focused. Ethan didn't recognize her, but she couldn't afford to get lost in old emotions. She had a mission—to regain her strength and find out who was behind the attack that had cost her everything a millennium ago.
An hour later, in the dining hall…
Lyra entered the grand dining hall with careful steps, her eyes scanning the massive room adorned with dark wood and modern touches. A long table stretched across the space, set with silverware and crystal glasses that gleamed under the soft lighting.
At the far end, Ethan sat, his presence as commanding as ever. He didn't look up as she approached, his focus seemingly fixed on the papers in front of him.
Logan stood at the side, watching her closely, and several others lingered near the edges of the room, pack members who eyed her with thinly veiled curiosity.
Lyra hesitated for a brief moment before walking to her seat across from Ethan. She could feel his eyes on her now, a slow, deliberate gaze that sent chills down her spine.
"You showed up," he remarked without looking away from his papers.
Lyra arched a brow, settling into her chair. "Would it have made a difference if I didn't?"
A smirk tugged at his lips, though it lacked any real amusement. "No."
The air between them was thick with tension, the kind that neither of them seemed willing to break. Lyra forced herself to pick up the glass of water in front of her, taking a slow sip to steady her nerves.
"You don't look like much," Ethan said suddenly, his eyes now fully on her.
Lyra met his gaze head-on. "Looks can be deceiving."
His dark eyes held hers for a moment longer before he leaned back in his chair, studying her with an unreadable expression. "We'll see."
Dinner was served in silence, the clinking of utensils the only sound filling the vast room. Lyra could feel Ethan's scrutiny with every bite she took, but she refused to let him intimidate her.
Halfway through the meal, he spoke again. "Do you know why you're here?"
Lyra set her fork down, wiping her mouth with deliberate grace. "To amuse you, I imagine," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm.
A low chuckle escaped him, dark and hollow. "Amuse me? You think highly of yourself."
She shrugged. "It's what everyone assumes, isn't it?"
Ethan's expression darkened, and for a moment, she wondered if she had pushed too far. But instead of anger, something else flickered in his gaze—curiosity, perhaps.
"You're different," he said quietly. "They always look at me with fear. You don't."
Lyra's heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her expression calm. "Should I?"
Ethan leaned forward slightly, his gaze burning into hers. "Maybe."
A charged silence stretched between them before Logan cleared his throat, breaking the moment. Ethan sat back, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Lyra finished the rest of her meal in silence, acutely aware of every glance Ethan threw her way. When dinner ended, he rose without another word and left the room, leaving Lyra alone with her thoughts and the lingering weight of his presence.
Back in her suite, Lyra sat on the edge of the bed, staring out at the night sky. She had expected Ethan to be different, but nothing could have prepared her for just how much he had changed. The man she had once loved had been fierce but kind, ruthless but loyal. Now, he was a stranger—one who no longer trusted anyone, least of all her.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She stood, expecting Logan again, but when she opened the door, it was Ethan.
Her breath caught. He stood there, silent and imposing, his gaze unreadable.
"You asked me earlier if you should fear me," he said. "The answer is yes."
Lyra swallowed, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I'm not afraid of you, Ethan."
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and for a moment, she thought she saw something familiar in his eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone.
"You should be," he said before turning and walking away.
Lyra closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling shakily. Ethan Graves was dangerous—but not for the reasons he thought.
She wasn't afraid of him.
She was afraid of what she still felt for him.