Chapter 151

Chapter 151
Lyra's POV

When I pushed open the bedroom door, the aroma of coffee drifted from the direction of the living room, mingling with the lingering coolness that hadn't quite dissipated from the morning sunlight. The scent loosened the tension that had been tightening my nerves all morning.

I followed the fragrance into the room, where Orion sat on the sofa with an open file in his hands, though his gaze wasn't actually focused on it. He wore a charcoal-gray casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and the morning light slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting across his profile and softening the sharp lines of his jaw more than usual. A coffee cup rested beside him, steam curling upward in delicate wisps.

The scene was so quiet it felt almost unreal. We'd been through so much complexity these past days—the Blood Moon Cult, vampires, the Aurelius family's Alpha succession ceremony. Yet here we were, just the two of us sitting in the morning light, coffee steaming between us, as if we were nothing more than an ordinary couple.

He noticed me approaching and pushed a cup of coffee across the table toward me. I picked it up and took a sip, the bitter liquid sliding over my tongue as warmth spread from my throat down into my chest.

"What's wrong?" He studied me carefully, his gaze pausing for a moment at the space between my brows. "You look troubled. Nervous about the wedding?"

"No." I set down the coffee cup and told him about Cian's plan to face Varyn alone—how that stubborn fool had been staking out the racing club, trying to identify someone with impeccable disguise techniques through sheer determination. "After Varyn hypnotized him last time and let him go, he's never gotten past that guilt. Now he wants to prove himself this way, but Varyn isn't an enemy he can handle alone."

Orion listened, then the corner of his mouth curved into a smile that carried something I couldn't quite read. "You know," he said, his voice lower than before with a faint note of appreciation, "the way you talk now—you're sounding more and more like the Silver Moon heir. Lyra, you're very different from when you first left the Red Fang pack."

His sudden sentiment caught me off guard. Before I could respond, he'd already pulled out his phone, calling up a test report and sliding it toward me. "Ian's lab results came back. What we found in that sealed room wasn't Nightfall—it's a variant modified through vampire blood magic."

"This drug is specifically designed to suppress berserk wolf spirits without weakening physical capabilities, which matches perfectly with what Lilith told us."

I glanced down at the report, the dense rows of data making me feel somewhat irritated. I skipped past the analysis and read the conclusion carefully before nodding. "So Lilith wasn't lying about this. Kaelum really has been maintaining his strength with those potions, and when the blood magic fails during the lunar eclipse, he'll be exposed in his true state."

Orion pocketed his phone, his expression growing serious. "The lunar eclipse is in three days. I'm planning to leave early, infiltrate near his base before the eclipse arrives, and strike the moment the blood magic fails."

"The two-month countdown is too long—too many unpredictable variables. And his resemblance to me is so striking that if he appears before the allied forces, it will create unnecessary complications. It's best if I deal with him personally before that happens."

I'd been about to say I'd go with him, but the words caught in my throat. Varyn's trail kept appearing near the club. If Orion went after Kaelum, I'd need to keep watch on Varyn simultaneously—I couldn't let Cian face that highly skilled monster alone.

While I hesitated for those few seconds, Orion suddenly took my left hand. In the next instant, I felt a cool metal band slide onto my ring finger. Looking down, I saw it was a ring—a platinum setting embedded with a moonstone, cut with exquisite precision, gleaming with a soft milky-white radiance in the morning light, as if a small piece of the full moon had been plucked from the sky and placed on my hand.

"What's this?" I looked up at him.

Orion smiled, lifting his right hand with a slight shake. On his ring finger sat a matching ring—the same platinum setting, the same moonstone, just slightly larger. "For the wedding," he said, his tone casual, as if discussing the most ordinary thing in the world. "I 'borrowed' it early. Lyra, wait for me to come back and marry you."

I looked at him, wondering if it was my imagination, but his tone seemed more earnest than usual. That solemnity concealed something I didn't want to identify—as if he were compressing all the words he was reluctant to say into these few syllables before his departure.

I suppressed the inexplicable unease rising in my chest and nodded. "Be careful."

He reached out to ruffle my hair, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. The pleasant scent of his cologne enveloped me entirely, leaving me momentarily dazed as I instinctively wrapped my arms around him. His heartbeat transmitted through his shirt, steady and strong.

A few seconds later he pulled away, stood up, grabbed the jacket draped over the sofa arm, and walked toward the door. At the threshold he glanced back at me once, then turned and disappeared down the corridor.

I sat on the sofa for a long while, until I could no longer hear the sound of his engine, before heading out to the mall to buy a small, pen-sized detector.

Two days later, my phone rang. It was Cian.

"Lyra, the software shows Varyn's location appearing near the club again," his voice was steadier than during our last call, but still tightly controlled. "I haven't gone there directly yet—you told me to wait for you."

"Good," I said. "I'll be right there."

I tucked the pen-sized detector and a pendant made with vervain solution into my pocket and drove to the club. Cian was already waiting at the entrance, waving toward me when he saw my car.

I parked and walked to his side, lowering my voice. "Where's Varyn's approximate location?"

Cian's expression darkened as he pointed to the side. It was an enclosed racing track—high concrete walls surrounding the entire circuit, the entrance adorned with race banners, and two tall werewolves in security uniforms standing before the iron gate.

"The signal's inside," Cian said, "but this is the finals. Non-participants aren't allowed in."

I raised an eyebrow and walked straight to the entrance. The two guards immediately held out their hands to stop me. "Miss, please show your qualifying credentials."

"I don't have any."

One of the guards looked me up and down, his lips curling into a rather disdainful smile. He clearly hadn't recognized who I was, probably assuming I was just some racer's girlfriend trying to watch the excitement. "Someone like you looks like you've never even ridden a motorcycle. This is the finals, not your shopping mall."

Nearby, a veteran club member who recognized me started to step forward to speak on my behalf, but I raised my hand to stop him. I looked at the guard, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly. "Then tell me—what would it take for you to let me in?"