Chapter 55

Chapter 55
Chapter 55 

Lyla’s POV

The smell of warm bread had always been my sanctuary.

The bakery was alive before the sun even considered rising. Flour drifted through the air like soft snowfall, sugar clung to my lashes, and the rhythmic hum of the ovens filled every corner. Mrs. Beans moved around the space with the gentle authority of a woman who had spent her entire life coaxing sweetness into being.

“Hand me the cinnamon, dear,” she said, not  turning from her dough.

I passed it to her automatically, my hands already covered in butter. “Here, ma’am.”

She smiled without looking. “Good girl.”

It should have made me feel warm. It usually did. But today my heart was restless, skipping like an off-beat drum. Each time it tried to settle, it stumbled again.

Because somewhere in the back of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to bury it, the wedding waited like a bruise.

The thought made my fingers slip on the handle of the mixing bowl. I steadied it quickly, forcing my breath to even out.

Don’t think about it. Not now.

“Lyla,” Ella sang as she bounced into the kitchen, her curly hair tied in a messy bun, flour streaked across her cheek like a badge. “Why are you mixing like the bowl offended you?”

She nudged my elbow lightly.

I smiled. “Sorry. Just tired.”

She squinted at me. “Are you sure? You look…” Her eyes softened. “You look more in-your-head than usual.”

I forced a laugh. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t believe me, she never did when I tried to hide something but she let it go for now, humming as she moved to prepare the buttercream for the morning pastries.

The bakery comforted me: the clatter of trays, the warmth of the ovens, the sound of Ella’s chatter, the gentle muttering of Mrs. Beans. It was the one place in the pack where I felt normal and safe. 

Even the elders rarely walked past here. And when they did, they never bothered to come inside. They preferred to judge from a distance, whispering about me like I was a passing storm cloud rather than a person.

“Lyla shouldn’t be so close to the Alpha wing.”
“She’s too quiet. There’s something strange about her.”
“She’ll confuse the young warriors. Weakness does that.”

Weakness.
They always used that word.

I pressed harder into the dough, kneading the anxiety out of it instead of myself.

The bell above the bakery door jingled. 

Ella’s grin stretched instantly. “Someone’s here for you,” she whispered.

Only one person opened that door like he had keys to the walls around my heart.

Damon.

Before I could turn, his voice wrapped around me from behind.

“There’s my favorite baker.”

My breath hitched.

Warm arms slid around my waist from behind, gentle but sure, a slow embrace that pulled me back against him. He buried his face into the curve of my neck, and the soft brush of his lips against my skin made me shiver.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmured.

My cheeks flamed. “Damon—Mrs. Beans is right there.”

“She knows I adore you,” he whispered, his voice smiling. “She pretends to scold me but she loves seeing you happy.”

I felt myself melt into him, unable to stop it. Damon always had that effect, gentle confidence, patient warmth, the kind of affection that seeped slowly into your bones until you couldn’t imagine being without it.

His hands slid down to rest on my hips, grounding me, steadying that messy rhythm in my chest.

I turned toward him slightly and found his eyes already on me; soft, warm, overflowing with something I didn’t have words for.

He smiled and lifted a small bouquet of wildflowers I hadn’t noticed in his other hand. White, yellow, and a single deep blue bloom that looked like a piece of twilight.

“For you,” he said. “Found them near the river before training.”

My heart fluttered.

“Damon… they’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied softly.

Ella groaned dramatically from behind us. “Ugh, you two are sickening. And by sickening, I mean adorable, and I hate that I’m third-wheeling at six in the morning.”

Mrs. Beans chuckled under her breath.

Damon pressed a quick kiss to my cheek gently and the air left my lungs. He pulled back just enough to look at me.

“You didn’t sleep well,” he said, reading my face far too easily.

“I—no. Not really.”

His hand brushed my jaw. “Were you worrying again?”

My gaze flicked away. “It’s nothing.”

But he saw through it.

“Its about Dalia's chaos, isn't it?” he asked gently.

Pain tightened in my chest.
I shook my head quickly. “No.”

He didn’t believe me for a second.

“Lyla…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s okay to say it bothers you.”

Bothers me? It wrecked me. It made every breath feel heavier.

But I swallowed and forced a small smile. “I’m fine. Really.”

He didn’t push, he never pushed but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade.

Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“It won’t always be like this,” he whispered. “I promise.”

I didn’t ask what that meant.

I just folded the moment into my chest and held it there.

The morning rush began.

The bakery filled with warriors, scouts, guards, children, and mothers, each one eager for their morning bread or pastries. Ella took orders at the counter. Mrs. Beans barked instructions like a general. Damon stayed with me behind the counter, helping whenever he could, carrying trays, frosting cupcakes, fetching ingredients, moving quietly and effortlessly like he belonged here.

Like he belonged with me.

Every time his fingers brushed mine, my stomach fluttered.

Every time he smiled at me, something inside me softened.

Every time he placed his hand lightly on my back to reach for something, warmth spread through me.

Every time someone mentioned the wedding, my heart stumbled.

“Can’t wait to see the Alpha and Lady Dalia together—”
“Tomorrow’s going to be beautiful—”
“Think the Luna ceremony will be the same night?—”

Each remark pierced something inside me.

Not because I wanted to be in Dalia’s place, that thought terrified me. But because something serious lodged in my chest whenever Rowan’s name and Dalia’s name were placed together.

It made no sense. I was in love with Damon. Wasn’t I? The bell jingled again.

Ella froze. “Oh gods. The elders.”

Mrs. Beans muttered something unrepeatable.

I stiffened.

Three council elders entered, their expressions carved from stone. Their eyes scanned the bakery like it was an offense to their dignity.

Then they saw me. Their disapproval sharpened. One whispered something to another. The third shook his head.

Damon stepped slightly in front of me subtle but protective and blocked their line of sight.

“Morning, elders,” he said smoothly. “Can I assist you?”

They looked at him, surprised to find the Beta addressing them. They straightened immediately, adjusting their posture.

“Beta Damon,” Elder Varin greeted. “We came for our usual morning bread.”

He glanced at Ella. “Ella will prepare it.”

Ella moved quickly. The elders’ gazes slid back toward me. Their voices low.

“Still here?”
“Still working near the Alpha wing?”
“She shouldn’t be so close to pack leadership.”
“It’s improper. Dangerous.”

My chest tightened.

Damon heard every word.

He brushed his hand against mine briefly, a small gesture, but it silenced the panic rising in me.

After they took their bread, Elder Varin addressed me directly.

“You should be mindful,” he said coldly. “Your presence invites complications. The wedding must proceed without unnecessary distractions.”

I opened my mouth to speak, to explain I wasn’t interfering with anything, that I was only working in the bakery like always but the words tangled in my throat.

Damon stepped forward.

“With respect, Elder,” he said, voice steady and firm, “Lyla has been nothing but hardworking and respectful. She’s not a distraction to anyone.”

Varin narrowed his eyes. “Be careful, Beta. Attachment clouds judgment.”

Damon didn’t blink. “I’m quite clear-headed.”

The elder scoffed and walked out.

The moment the door closed, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

Damon turned to me immediately. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, but my voice cracked. “I’m fine.”

He cupped my cheek softly. “Don’t listen to them.”

“They think I don’t belong here.”

“They think a lot of things,” he said gently. “Most of them outdated.”

I swallowed hard.

He brushed his thumb across my cheekbone. “You belong with people who care for you. Like Mrs. Beans. Ella. Me.”

His voice softened. “Especially me.”

My heartbeat stuttered.

“Damon…”

He leaned in. Slow.
Intentional.
Certain.

He kissed me.

Not a quick kiss. Not a soft brush of lips.

A real kiss; warm and steady, hands cupping my face as if I were a delicate thing he couldn’t bear to lose. My knees nearly gave out. My breath caught. The world blurred.

Ella cleared her throat loudly. “Hello? Some of us are trying to serve customers.”

Damon chuckled against my lips.

I broke the kiss reluctantly, cheeks burning.

He whispered, “Ignore everyone else. You’re mine, Lyla.”

My heart jolted.

Mine.

I shouldn’t have liked the sound of that.

But I did. I did too much.

The rest of the morning blurred into a soft haze of flour dust and Damon’s lingering warmth. Every time I passed by the counter, I caught the faint scent of the wildflowers he’d brought, tucked in a glass jar near the register. Ella pretended not to swoon over them, but she kept glancing at the flowers like they were proof that fairytales existed.

“Lyla,” she whispered as she whisked cream in a metal bowl, “do you know how lucky you are?”

I blinked in surprise. “Lucky?”

She scoffed. “Are you kidding? Damon is… well, he’s Damon. He’s gorgeous, he’s gentle, he looks at you like you’re sunlight wrapped in sugar.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “Not to mention, he’s Beta. Half the girls in the pack would kill for one of his smiles.”

The words warmed me but they also pressed something tight around my ribs.

Lucky.

Was that what I was?

A laugh escaped me; thin, breathy. “I don’t know if I’d call it lucky.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Lyla, wake up. He adores you.”

The truth of it settled somewhere deep inside me. Damon did adore me. He always had. He saw me when no one else looked my way. He defended me. He helped me. He made me feel… wanted.

Safe, but safety wasn’t the same as stillness.

Part of me wanted stillness. Part of me feared it.

And part of me; tiny, quiet, traitorous—felt pulled toward something unsafe and unexplainable.

A shadow in the back of my mind. A pair of dark eyes. A presence that made my entire world tilt sideways.

I shoved the thought away as quickly as it came.

“Lyla.” Ella nudged me again, breaking my spiraling thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I forced a smile. “Just nerves.”

“About what?”

I hesitated.

She followed my gaze toward the wildflowers on the counter. “Ah,” she said softly. “The wedding?”

My heart thudded painfully.

“I don’t want it to bother you until you start crying into the batter,” she said, her voice warm and teasing. “And mom will skin us both alive if her batter gets salty.”

I smiled despite myself.

But the wedding did bother me more than I wanted to admit. Every time someone mentioned the ceremony, a ripple of something sharp and aching moved through me. A strange mix of dread and something I didn’t want to name.

“Don’t look like that,” Ella said, bumping my hip. “The wedding will come and go. You’ll stay here with us. Nothing will change.”

But something had already changed.

I just didn’t know what.

By midday, Damon was helping me carry a tray of freshly baked honey loaves to the front when someone cleared their throat loudly at the doorway.

The room’s energy chilled.

Elder Varin.

Beside him stood Elder Jorah and Elder Miri, three of the most rigid members of the council. Three people who hated me without ever speaking to me directly.

They stepped inside.

Damon stiffened at once.

Mrs. Beans offered a polite nod, though her lips tightened. “Morning, elders. What brings you here again?”

Varin lifted his chin. “Inspection.”

Ella blinked. “Of… bread?”

“Of the people inside this establishment,” Elder Miri corrected coldly.

My pulse jumped.

Damon subtly shifted, placing his body slightly in front of mine.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

Varin’s gaze flicked to me with unmasked disdain. “There is the problem.”

The words hit like a slap.

Damon’s jaw flexed. “Watch your tone.”

“We are elders of this pack,” Varin said sharply. “You forget your place, Beta.”

Damon stepped forward. “I never forget anything.”

Tension thickened.

Mrs. Beans slammed a tray on the counter. “If you have nothing to buy, take your boots and your bad tempers out of my bakery.”

Ella choked on a laugh.

Miri ignored her. “We simply wish to ensure everything remains stable before the wedding.”

My stomach tightened again.

They all glanced at me.

As if I were the threat.

As if my mere existence were a storm waiting to break.

Varin’s eyes narrowed. “Some of us feel the Alpha’s wedding will proceed more smoothly if certain… distractions were removed from the compound.”

My breath caught.

Removed.

Damon inhaled sharply, dangerously.

“You mean Lyla,” he said, barely restrained.

Varin didn’t deny it.

“She is a complication,” Jorah added. “A young woman whose presence around leadership is… inappropriate.”

Heat spread up my neck. Shame. Embarrassment. Fear. All tangled.

Damon moved faster than I could think, grabbing Jorah’s arm with a grip that made the elder stumble.

“You will not speak about her again,” he said in a low growl. “Not like that.”

The elders froze, shocked that a Beta would touch them.

Mrs. Beans gasped softly.

Ella whispered, “Oh no.”

Jorah yanked his arm back. “You dare—”

“Yes,” Damon snapped. “I dare.”

Varin’s eyes became slits. “This attachment of yours will cost you dearly.”

Damon smiled—a slow, dangerous smile. “Try me.”

The elders glared at all of us, then stormed out of the bakery, their robes swishing like offended geese.

The moment the door shut, I let out a shaking breath.

Damon turned toward me instantly. “Lyla—”

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

But I wasn’t.

And he knew it.

He stepped closer, lifting my chin gently. “Don’t listen to them. They’re threatened by anyone they can’t control.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“You’re not causing trouble,” he said firmly. “You’re living. You’re working. You’re loving. That is not trouble.”

My cheeks warmed. “Damon…”

He leaned down.

His lips brushed mine; soft, slow, reassuring.

Heat bloomed across my skin.

His fingers curled behind my neck, steadying me as if afraid I might crumble. He kissed me again, deeper this time, lingering until my knees trembled and Ella slammed a tray down loudly to interrupt.

We broke apart, breathless.

He whispered against my lips, “I don’t care what they think. I care about you.”

I swallowed. “And Rowan?”

His expression shifted slightly.

“Rowan…” He exhaled through his nose. “Rowan is trying to prove he doesn’t care about you.”

The words stung.

Before I could respond, Damon cupped my cheek. “But I know better.”

He rested his forehead on mine. “I know you. I know your heart. And I’m not letting the elders or Rowan, make you feel unwanted.”

My eyes pricked with tears I refused to let fall.

“Come on.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s go outside for a moment.”

We slipped out the back door, into the quiet herb garden behind the bakery. It was one of my favorite places. Mint, lavender, thyme, and rosemary grew in orderly rows, their scents soothing.

Damon led me to the wooden bench under the grape trellis.

“Sit,” he said softly.

I did.

He sat beside me, close enough that our thighs brushed. His arm lifted and wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into the warmth of him.

The silence between us wasn’t awkward.

It was familiar.

Comfortable.

He held me like he’d memorized the shape of my body, the way my breathing hitched, the way my fingers curled when I was nervous.

I leaned my head against his shoulder.

“Don’t let them get into your head,” he murmured.

“They already have.”

He kissed the top of my hair. “Then let me stay in your head louder.”

A small laugh escaped me.

But then unexpectedly my thoughts drifted.

I pressed my fingers together, trying to push the thoughts away.

Damon felt my shift.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

“Nothing,” I lied.

He studied me for a moment, eyes soft, expression patient. “Lyla… talk to me.”

“It’s just…” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “Rowan has been acting strange.”

Damon scoffed lightly. “He always acts strange.”

“I mean around me,” I whispered.

That made him go still. Not suspicious or jealous. Just protective.

He looked away toward the herb beds, exhaling through his nose. “Did he say something to you?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Not exactly. It’s just… he’s distant. Then he’s not. Then he is again. I don’t understand him.”

Damon nodded slowly, as if that made perfect sense. “Rowan carries the weight of the pack on his shoulders every minute of the day. It changes people.”

I didn’t answer.

He turned back to me.

“Does it… trouble you?” he asked carefully.

I picked at the hem of my apron. “I don’t know. It just feels different.”

His jaw flexed, not in anger, but in quiet thought.

Then he reached out and took my hand gently.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

I did.

He smiled softly, the kind of smile that eased storms, and brushed his thumb across the back of my hand.

“People react to you,” he said. “That’s not your fault. It’s who you are.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

He leaned closer. “You’re kind. You’re steady. You’re good. And Rowan… he’s an Alpha. He senses everything. He probably reads your quiet as something else.”

My chest tightened, but I stayed silent.

Damon pressed his forehead lightly to mine, voice lowering.

“You don’t need to worry about him. Whatever he’s going through, it’s his own mess, not yours.”

I nodded, grateful for the reassurance.

He kissed my temple gently. “You’re safe with me.”

Warmth spread through me.

Damon always made things simple and clear

He stood then and pulled me up with him, brushing soil and flour off my apron with a smile.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get back inside before Ella starts a fire trying to reheat a muffin.”

I laughed softly.

And we walked back into the bakery together.

But the moment we stepped inside, something felt different. 

The doors had just opened. And Rowan was there.

Standing in the middle of the room like a storm pretending to be calm.

His eyes went straight to me.

Not to Damon’s hand holding mine.
Not to Ella dropping a tray.
Not to Mrs. Beans looking at him for blocking the entrance.

Just me.

And everything inside me tightened.

Not in the way Damon made me warm, but in a way that made my pulse trip over itself.

I looked down quickly.

But Rowan was already moving toward us.

His steps were slow, measured, quiet.
Too quiet.

Damon straightened instinctively beside me.

“Rowan,” he greeted.

Rowan didn’t blink. “Lyla.”

My breath caught, and I forced myself to stand a little taller.

“Yes?”

He looked me over, eyes scanning for something I couldn’t identify.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Before Damon could speak, I nodded. “I’m fine.”

Rowan didn’t look convinced.

His gaze flicked to my wrist, where a faint red mark from earlier kneading dough lingered.

His jaw clenched. Subtly. But I saw it.

“Did something happen?” he asked quietly.

“No,” I said quickly. “It’s nothing.”

Damon stepped forward, calm but firm. “She’s been working since dawn.”

Rowan’s eyes didn’t leave me. “I asked her.”

Something fluttered in my stomach.

Damon exhaled, patience thinning. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

Rowan finally looked at him. “Yes. There is.”

He shifted his stance slightly, posture straight, tone formal.

“The council is performing early inspections across the compound. Rogue activity increased last night. Two patrols lost contact briefly.”

Instantly, Damon’s protective energy sharpened.

“How close?” he asked.

“Close enough,” Rowan replied. “The boundary stones were tampered with.”

My stomach dropped.

“Tampered?” I whispered.

Rowan nodded once. “With symbols tied to the upcoming lunar cycle.”

A chill slid down my spine.

Damon’s expression darkened. “Meaning?”

Rowan hesitated, something rare for him.

“It means the pack may be exposed,” he said. “And some of us may be targeted.”

The way he said some of us made my heart race.

Damon stepped closer to me. “What are you implying?”

Rowan’s eyes met mine again.

“I found a tracking charm hidden near the guest wing.”

My breath caught. “Whose?”

“We don’t know yet,” Rowan answered quietly. “But it wasn’t meant for warriors.”

Damon paled. “You think—”

“Yes,” Rowan said. “I think Lyla was the target.”

A wave of dizziness hit me.

Damon’s arm went around my waist instantly.

Rowan saw it and something wild flickered behind his eyes before he masked it.

“I’m moving you,” Rowan said. “Immediately.”

Damon stiffened. “To where?”

Rowan’s tone was pure Alpha now. “The inner compound.”

Shock shot through me. “Rowan, I—I can’t—”

“Yes,” Rowan said, more gently. “You can.”

“But that’s where the Alpha families stay,” I whispered. “I don’t belong there.”

Rowan stepped closer. So close I felt the warmth of him.

“You belong somewhere safe,” he said.
Soft.
Firm.
Unshakeable.

“And that is the safest place in this pack.”

Damon exhaled slowly. “Rowan—”

“I’m not discussing this,” Rowan cut in. “I’m informing you.”

His eyes never left mine.

I swallowed.

Damon’s arm tightened around me, protective, steady. “She stays where she’s comfortable.”

Rowan looked between us. And for a brief, unguarded moment... I saw something break inside him.

But it was gone in a second.

“Lyla,” he said, voice gentler now, “at least consider it.”

I nodded slowly. “I’ll… think about it.”

Rowan exhaled, relief flickering across his expression before he hid it.

Then he stepped back. But before he turned away, he spoke quietly, almost too soft to hear:

“Please be careful.”

Then he left.

And I stood between two men—
one holding my hand,
the other holding something I didn’t understand,
and all I could think was:

Nothing about my life felt simple anymore.