Five Years Ago. Shadowclaw Territory Outskirts.
The chill was bone-deep, slicing through the thin, damp clothes she wore. The torrential rain of the city's concrete edges had turned the dirt path into a slick, muddy river, and Lyra was running—not with the practiced, effortless speed of a wolf, but with the clumsy, desperate stumble of a panicked human.
Ronan bowed his head slightly and left.
Lyra spent another hour working, the silence of the office broken only by the hum of the city. Then, the internal line buzzed. It was Damon.
"Matriarch, Liam Devereux is here. He says he has the final acquisition papers for the Singapore deal, and he requested a personal meeting, as he is leaving for his private island tomorrow."
Lyra sighed. Liam. The peaceful option.
She knew what the meeting would entail. Liam wouldn't mention the Maldives again, but he would offer the quiet, stable future—a life free of the constant weight of the Pack, a life where her power was merely financial, not magical.
Lyra stood and walked to the panoramic window. She saw her reflection: the Crimson Matriarch, beautiful, terrifying, and utterly alone on her throne. She had achieved the peak of her revenge. She had Ronan's company, his subservience, and his promise of eternal protection.
But Liam was offering something Ronan could not yet give: safe, unconditional love.
As she walked toward the door to greet Liam, a profound realization hit her, rooted in the genuine fear she had felt when Ronan took that blast for Leo.
She had rejected Ronan's reconciliation because he had destroyed her once. If she chose Liam, she would be destroying Ronan completely, crushing the man who had finally found redemption through suffering. And she would be choosing a man her son had already placed outside the fortress.
Lyra stopped, her hand hovering over the door handle. She couldn't do it. Not yet. She couldn't let go of the man who knew her darkness, the man who was bonded to her in blood, magic, and trauma.
She turned back to her desk and picked up the silver Alpha cuff—Ronan's lineage, the symbol of his complete surrender.
"Damon," Lyra said into the comms, her voice shaking slightly, the absolute certainty of her decision finally settling in. "Cancel Mr. Devereux's meeting. Tell him the Matriarch is indisposed for the foreseeable future. My duties here require all my attention."
She looked at the silver cuff, then at the door Ronan had just exited. The final price of her crown was acknowledging that the groveling Alpha, however painful his presence was, was now the necessary foundation of her new life.
She knew the fight wasn't over. Ronan's humiliation was complete, but his quest for her heart had just begun. He would serve her, guard her, and wait—the devoted Shadow to the Crimson Matriarch.
Lyra smiled, a cold, predatory, but ultimately hopeful expression. "The groveling continues."