Chapter 3

The days after Darius's announcement dragged on like an endless storm. It wasn't just the rejection that haunted Lyra—it was the suffocating silence that followed. The pack no longer looked at her the same way. Where once there had been fleeting smiles and nods of acknowledgment, now there were whispers and pitying glances that followed her wherever she went. She was no longer just Lyra; she was the rejected mate, the one left behind.

The ache in her chest refused to fade, a constant reminder of the bond she couldn't break. It was as if a thread still connected her to Darius, pulling at her heart even as he stayed by Alina's side. She hated herself for feeling it, for longing for a connection that had been severed on his end but still thrummed painfully on hers.

One afternoon, as Lyra walked through the pack's central clearing, she caught snippets of a conversation between two packmates. They spoke in hushed tones, but their words were sharp enough to cut through her resolve.

"Did you hear? Darius said rejecting her was the best decision he ever made. Apparently, Alina's a better match for him in every way."

"She just couldn't handle being Beta's mate. Some wolves just aren't meant for the spotlight."

Lyra's steps faltered, but she kept walking, her head held high. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her break, not here. But as soon as she was out of sight, she ducked into the forest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She leaned against a tree, gripping the rough bark as she fought back tears. It felt like the world was closing in on her, and there was no escape.

The forest had always been her sanctuary, a place where she could find solace in the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the canopy. But even here, the bond followed her, a phantom pain that refused to let her go. She sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees as a sob tore from her throat.

"Why wasn't I enough?" she whispered to the empty woods, her voice trembling. "What's so wrong with me?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered. Deep down, Lyra knew the fault didn't lie with her—it was Darius who had chosen to reject her, to turn away from a bond that was meant to be sacred. But the knowledge did little to ease the pain.

Her isolation grew as the days turned into weeks. The pack didn't outright shun her, but their avoidance was palpable. Conversations stopped when she approached, and gatherings felt colder without the warmth of camaraderie. Even those she'd considered friends seemed to drift away, unwilling or unable to stand by her side.

One evening, Lyra approached the pack's healer, a kind older wolf named Maelis who had always been gentle with her. She hoped to find some kind of comfort, or at least a distraction from her thoughts. But when she entered the healer's den, Maelis looked up with a hesitant expression that sent a chill down Lyra's spine.

"I heard you've been feeling unwell," Maelis said carefully, gesturing for Lyra to sit.

Lyra frowned, settling onto a worn cushion. "I'm fine. I just needed someone to talk to."

Maelis's brow furrowed, and she hesitated before speaking. "Lyra...you know the bond affects wolves differently. For some, the rejection can...weaken them, even make them sick."

"I'm not sick," Lyra said firmly, though her voice wavered. "I just...I just need to get through this."

Maelis reached out, placing a hand on Lyra's. "You're strong, child. Stronger than you realize. But you don't have to face this alone."

The words were kind, but they only deepened the ache in Lyra's chest. She nodded mutely, unable to trust her voice. She didn't have the heart to tell Maelis that even kindness felt like a reminder of how far she'd fallen.

The breaking point came during a pack meeting. The Alpha, a towering wolf named Calder, had called everyone together to discuss an upcoming hunt. Lyra stayed at the back, hoping to blend into the crowd. But as Calder spoke, he turned his gaze toward her.

"Lyra," he said, his tone neutral but carrying an edge that made her stomach twist. "You'll be sitting out this time. We can't risk any...distractions."

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken judgment. Lyra felt the eyes of the pack on her, some filled with pity, others with disdain. She nodded silently, her cheeks burning with humiliation.

As the meeting continued, Lyra slipped away, unable to bear the weight of their stares. She retreated to the forest, the only place where she felt even a shred of peace. But this time, the forest couldn't soothe her. She stood at the edge of a stream, staring down at her reflection. The woman who looked back at her was a stranger—her eyes dull, her shoulders slumped under the weight of her pain.

"I can't stay here," she whispered, the words barely audible over the babbling water. "I can't keep pretending this is my home."

The realization hit her like a wave, both terrifying and liberating. She couldn't change the past or the way the pack saw her, but she could change her future. She didn't know where she would go or what lay beyond the borders of Moonshade Hollow, but she knew one thing for certain: she couldn't stay.

With a deep breath, Lyra turned away from the stream and began walking, her steps heavy but determined. The forest closed in around her, its shadows whispering promises of the unknown. She didn't look back.