Chapter 10
Lyra's POV
When Sera tossed the bouquet and everyone surged forward with cheers, marking the end of the ceremony, I walked alone toward the parking lot.
My father's call came through just as my car pulled away from the church.
"Lyra, when are you planning to come home?" His voice filtered through the car's speakers. "Your room is ready, and everyone in the pack wants to formally welcome you back."
I fell silent for a moment, carefully recalling the evidence contained in those encrypted files.
Now that I had enough leverage to bring down Kael and Mira in one decisive move, there was no reason to remain here any longer.
"Soon, Father," I said. "I just need to pack my things."
---
When I pushed open the door, the apartment was dark, but not empty—I knew that immediately from the scent that hit me.
That thick, unmistakable smell: sex and sweat, Mira's distinctive perfume mingling with Kael's musk, making my stomach churn.
The living room was a disaster. Cushions were scattered across the floor, Mira's dress draped over the back of the couch, disheveled clothing forming a trail leading toward the bedroom.
The bedroom door stood half-open. Through the gap, I could see them tangled together on the bed Kael and I had shared for three years.
This was the bed where I had conceived two children who never had the chance to be born. This was the bed where I had woken alone on countless mornings, blaming myself for my inadequacy.
Mira was wearing my nightgown—that silk nightgown Kael had given me on our first anniversary.
She was riding him, head thrown back in pleasure, hands braced against his chest. I watched him grip her hips with that possessive hunger he had once shown me.
Memories crashed over me like waves.
I remembered the nights Kael and I had tangled in those sheets until dawn, all the promises about our future.
This apartment was supposed to be our sanctuary, the place where we built our life together.
And now I was watching him defile every beautiful memory we had created here.
Then I saw my mother's bracelet.
Shattered on the floor by the doorway.
The delicate silver chain lay broken into several pieces, resting quietly on the cold ground. The clasp had burst open, the pendant twisted askew, as if someone had hurled it from a height or deliberately torn it apart.
I remembered how this bracelet came into my possession.
After Mother was shot, blood spreading from her chest and staining my clothes, she used what little strength she had left to press the bracelet into my palm, then held my hand, helping me fasten it finger by finger.
"Take this," her voice had been so soft. "Someday, give it to your daughter."
Those were the last words she ever spoke to me.
All these years, I had kept the bracelet at the very bottom of my drawer, buried beneath old clothes and memories.
Every so often, I would carefully take it out and polish it with a soft cloth, bit by bit, until the silver gleamed again, as if Mother were still beside me.
---
Grief struck first, sharp and suffocating. The loss of this last tangible connection to my mother, layered atop everything they had already stolen from me.
Then came the rage—white-hot, crystalline rage that burned through the numbness I had wrapped around myself for protection.
Selah surged forward in my consciousness, her voice a pure howl of fury.
"Tear out their throats. Paint these walls with their blood."
"No," I responded silently, my hands clenching into fists as I stared at the shattered bracelet. "Ripping them to shreds would be too merciful. I want them to endure the pain they inflicted on me."
I bent down and carefully picked up the fragments of the bracelet.
The silver edges gleamed coldly under the light, each piece sharp as a blade, cutting into my palm. I gathered them one by one and placed them in my pocket.
Now there was nothing left in this apartment worth mourning.
---
Kael on the bed must have heard me—his rhythm faltered noticeably, those sickening sounds losing their cadence abruptly.
When he turned his head and saw me standing in the doorway, I caught a flash of panic on his face, quickly replaced by calculation. He was weighing his options, deciding whether to apologize or attack.
He pushed Mira off him and reached for his pants. "Lyra, this isn't what you think."
His lie was so absurd I almost laughed.
Mira sat up, not even bothering to cover herself, flashing me a poisonous smile.
"Oh, thank god we can finally stop pretending. I was getting so tired of acting like I cared about your feelings." She stretched lazily, making sure I got a good look at the body Kael clearly preferred. "Though, you know, if you want to stay, you're still welcome here. We could work out some kind of arrangement. You'd just have to accept your place first, of course."
I didn't respond to either of them. I walked past them directly to the closet, where I had hidden my packed suitcase days ago. I dragged it into the bedroom.
"We're done, Kael."
That pierced his arrogance. He stood quickly, genuine panic replacing his carefully calculated indifference. I knew exactly what he was thinking—he still needed me to get pregnant again, needed our third child to cure Mira's infertility.
"Lyra, don't do this. You're upset, I understand, but you shouldn't be so hasty."
"I'm not being hasty," I said, zipping up my suitcase. "I should have done this three years ago."
He changed tactics, his expression shifting to something that might have passed for concern if I didn't know the truth. "Where are you going to go? You have no money, no friends outside this pack. You need me, Lyra. We both know that."
I looked at him, feeling only cold, clear contempt. "I'll figure it out."
He pulled out his phone and transferred money into my account. I watched the notification pop up on my screen—enough to cover several months of rent and expenses.
"Fine. I'm giving you time to cool off, but when you come back, remember that I gave you a chance to handle this with dignity."
I didn't answer. I picked up my suitcase and headed for the door. Behind me, I heard Mira laugh, heard Kael trying to say something more, but I didn't look back.
After walking out of the apartment, I touched the fragments in my pocket, feeling only anger, purpose, and one absolute certainty: Kael and Mira would pay for every life they had destroyed.
I strapped my suitcase to the back of the Ducati, mounted the bike, twisted the throttle, and never looked back at the apartment that had imprisoned me for three years.