Chapter 27 Chapter 27

Chapter 27 Chapter 27
Lyra
The room feels suddenly colder than it did before, the walls closing in around me as if the air itself is conspiring to push me down. I can still feel the heat of the morning lingering in my skin, the memory of Kael’s touch, and yet there is emptiness, a hollow where protection should have been.
I pace the floor of my apartment, dark brown hair falling in a curtain around my shoulders. My stomach twists at every step, fluttering with the new life inside me. I should feel safe. I should, but the shadows of what has just happened fill me with dread.
Then he comes.
His voice is a knife. Sharp, cold, deliberate.
“You’re not mine anymore,” he says, eyes hard, jaw tight. “Go… make your life with Riven. You’re just a rejected mate.”
The words hit me like ice water. They slice through me, more painfully than any blow could. My chest tightens, breath caught in my throat. “Just a rejected mate…” I repeat in a whisper, tasting the venom in the phrase.
He doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t wait for my tears, my screams, my protests. He just leaves, door closing with a definitive click that echoes through the apartment like a judge’s gavel.
And I am alone.
Alone.
My knees buckle, and I sink to the floor, hands pressed to my stomach. The baby kicks faintly, a tiny heartbeat in the middle of chaos, reminding me that I cannot fall apart completely. I won’t. Not now.
I pull out my phone, fingers trembling. My heart races. One name. Only one. Only one person can fix this, only one person can make me feel… safe again.
Riven.
I tap the screen with shaking hands and speak before I can stop myself. “Riven… it’s Lyra. I—I’m pregnant. And Kael… he’s… he said I’m rejected. He… he left me alone.” My voice breaks halfway through. I swallow thickly. “Please… come get me.”
The line is quiet for a moment, then his voice, low and controlled, cuts through the tension like a blade.
“I’m coming,” he says. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The minutes stretch endlessly. Every car that passes outside makes me jump, every sound like a threat. The room feels too small, too vulnerable, and I hug my knees to my chest, whispering to the baby, to myself, to anyone listening: Stay safe. Please, stay safe.
The engine of his BMW arrives before I can blink again. He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t ask questions. He simply stands at the door, tall, dark, dangerous, and entirely unyielding. His silver eyes sweep over me like he’s assessing every ounce of my fear, my vulnerability, my humanity.
“Get in,” he says.
I move without hesitation, climbing into the passenger seat, the heat of the leather seat pressing against my legs. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t acknowledge my trembling hands, just starts driving, mountain roads twisting beneath the tires.
The city fades behind us, swallowed by mist and forest, the air growing cooler, crisper. I watch through the window as buildings give way to trees, to hills, to rugged terrain that rises like guardians on either side of the road. My pulse begins to slow, though the flutter in my stomach remains—reminder of the life inside me.
Finally, he stops at the villa on the mountain. It rises from the cliff like a dark fortress, sleek, dangerous, and impossibly luxurious. I stare at it, overwhelmed by the isolation and safety it promises, by the knowledge that no one could follow us here without his leave.
He turns to me once before opening the door. His eyes are unreadable, sharp, silver flames contained in a wolf’s human form. “Inside.”
I step into the villa, the warmth enveloping me, the smell of cedar and firewood and leather wrapping around me like a protective cloak. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t touch me. Not yet.
And yet, the presence of him is enough to steady my heart.
I sink onto the couch, hands on my stomach, and finally let out a shuddering breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He moves to the kitchen, setting down a tray with water and a small meal, then sits across from me, eyes never leaving my face.
“You’re safe,” he says finally. “For now. But I will not let anyone touch you. Not Kael. Not the rival packs. No one.”
“I… I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “I’m human. I’m… vulnerable. And I’m carrying…” I falter, the words heavy with meaning. “This baby. And I don’t know whose it is. Or if…” My voice catches. “…if it matters.”
Riven stands abruptly, walking around to sit beside me. His hand hovers over mine for a moment before settling lightly, possessively. The warmth of his skin calms me in ways words cannot.
“It matters,” he says simply. “It matters because you matter. Because the child matters. Because I… will not let anyone harm either of you. Do you understand?”
I nod, swallowing hard. My eyes sting. “I understand.”
He leans back slightly, silver eyes piercing, calculating, feral yet gentle. “Kael has made his choice. His words… cruel, but expected. He cannot claim what is not given freely.”
I glance down at my stomach, tracing the faint curve. “But… if the baby is his?”
Riven shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter who the child belongs to. Right now, the only thing that matters is your safety. Mine and yours are tied to this house, to these mountains, to the wolves who will follow me anywhere.”
I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes, overwhelmed by the raw intensity of his protection, by the unyielding certainty in his voice. I clutch the small curve of my stomach, feeling the life within, feeling the flutter, feeling the impossible truth that I am not alone. Not really.
“Thank you,” I whisper, voice shaking. “For coming. For… everything.”
Riven does not respond immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting a hand gently but firmly on my belly, his silver eyes softening. “I didn’t save you tonight just because of obligation,” he murmurs. “I saved you because… because this is where I am supposed to be. And nothing—not Kael, not anyone—will change that. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I whisper again, this time with certainty. “I understand.”
He studies me for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. Then, as if a switch flips, the wolf inside him relaxes slightly, the tension in his body easing, though the predator within never leaves. He rises and moves toward the balcony, watching the mountains stretch below us, the fog rolling in from the valley like a river of clouds.
I sit in silence, hands pressed against my stomach, feeling the pulse of life inside me, the unspoken promise in Riven’s words. He will protect me. He will protect this child. And somehow, against every fear and every doubt, I feel a fragile flicker of hope.
The villa is quiet. The mountains are quiet. And for the first time in days, I feel—almost—safe.
Riven turns back, his silver eyes catching the morning light filtering through the balcony doors. He does not speak, but the presence alone says everything. Protection. Possession. Care. Danger. Desire. All at once.
And I know, deep down, that no matter whose child I carry, no matter what comes next, I will not face it alone.
Not with him.
Not with the life growing inside me.
Not ever again.
The wind whispers through the villa, brushing against my skin, carrying the scent of pine, mountain air, and something darker, something eternal. And I know this:
The world will never be the same again.
Because I am human.
Because I am carrying a wolf’s heir.
Because Riven Blackmoor will kill anyone who dares touch me.
And I am ready.