Lyra stirred at the sharp sound of a woman cursing under her breath. The voice was unfamiliar, but its clipped, venom-laced tone made her jolt awake.
Where was she?
Her heart thudded wildly as she tried to get her bearings, eyes darting around the dim, unfamiliar space. Panic gripped her chest like an iron fist when her gaze landed on the woman standing before her—a middle-aged figure with severe features and a cold, calculating stare that made Lyra instinctively shrink back.
"Well, well," the woman sneered. "The little princess finally wakes up."
Lyra flinched at the contempt dripping from her voice. Fear wrapped around her like a noose, pulling tighter with every breath. She didn't know this woman, didn't know where she was. The last memory she had was sharing a meal with her father—his cold eyes watching her in silence. Then… nothing.
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled freely, hot and silent. She wanted to go home. She wanted to see her father, to feel the safety of his presence again. But somewhere deep in her bones, she already knew—he wasn't coming for her.
"Stop crying," the woman snapped, tossing a bundle of coarse clothing at her feet. "You're being bid on today. Make yourself presentable. Or I'll leash you like the useless mutt you are."
Lyra's stomach twisted in horror.
Bid on?
Her trembling fingers reached for the clothes as the woman stormed out of the room, the heavy door slamming shut behind her with a finality that echoed like a prison sentence.
She wasn't just mute. She was wolfless. A disgrace.
Her father had once cradled her with pride, had once smiled at her as if she were his world. But the moment it became clear she would never find her wolf, that love had withered. He'd turned cold, distant. And now… he'd discarded her like she was nothing more than a blemish to be scrubbed away.
Lyra stared blankly at the garments in her lap before slowly beginning to dress. Her hands shook, her thoughts a whirlwind of fear, grief, and something else—resolve. She didn't know where life would take her now, but one thing was certain.
If she ever wanted freedom, she would have to fight for it.
She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her sleeve and squared her shoulders.
She wouldn't go down quietly.
***
An hour later, the bidding began.
One by one, the girls were paraded in front of the crowd. Each forced to stand beneath a flickering chandelier, while greedy eyes sized them up like livestock. Lyra stood at the edge of the stage, clutching the hem of her plain dress, her gaze sweeping over the sea of well-dressed elites.
They didn't see them as people. Just objects. Things to own.
A chill rippled down her spine, but she refused to let it show. Beneath the terror thrumming in her veins, a single thought grounded her.
Find a way out. Keep your head. Look for an opening.
She would not let them break her. She might be wolfless, voiceless—but she wasn't powerless.
Then, as her name was called and she stepped into the center of the stage, a silence settled over the crowd. Her heart beat so loud it drowned out the whispers.
And then—A voice, deep and resonant, sliced through the tension like a blade.
"Ten thousand."
Gasps rippled through the room.
Lyra's breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned her gaze toward the source—and froze.
Sitting near the back, cloaked in shadow, was a man whose presence seemed to command the very air around him. He was still. Silent. Yet powerful. His sharp, chiseled features betrayed no emotion—but his eyes burned with something darker. Something possessive.
Something familiar.
Alpha Cassian.
The name whispered through her mind like an echo. As if hearing it himself, the man's lips curled into the faintest of smirks.
"Mine."
Lyra's knees nearly buckled.
No…
Before she could make sense of what was happening, before she could run or even react—
The gavel came down.
Sold.
***
[Outside the bidding hall]
"What have you done?" Darius hissed, disbelief staining his voice. The Shadow Pack Beta stared at his Alpha, but Cassian's expression remained unreadable.
"Prepare the carriage," Cassian said simply, turning away.
There were murmurs all around the hall. A heartbroken Alpha—one who had lost his fated mate—claiming a girl? One with no wolf? Madness. But Cassian didn't spare them a glance as he strode from the room like a storm wrapped in flesh.
In the crowd, one pair of eyes didn't hold curiosity, but fury. Quiet. Burning. Watching.
"This way, my lady," Darius said stiffly, not meeting Lyra's eyes as he guided her toward the waiting carriage. His voice was polite, but distant.
Lyra moved like a shadow behind him, her thoughts racing. She had heard the stories—of Alpha Cassian, the ghost of a once-great warrior who'd shut off his heart after the death of his mate. He had become a myth, a warning. A living scar.
Yet here he was.
And he had bought her.
She looked up just as they reached the carriage. The Alpha stood nearby, speaking to no one, his arms folded behind his back. Even still, he radiated command like a second skin.
Her heart stuttered.
What did he want from her? Was she just another piece in his grief-shattered puzzle?
But when the door was opened, Cassian didn't enter with her.
Instead, he walked away—to another carriage entirely.
Lyra paused at the door, uncertainty gnawing at her insides.
He wasn't even going to ride with her?
"We shall depart, my lady," the coachman prompted gently.
She climbed in slowly, her body stiff and her mind spiraling. Inside the carriage, she sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes flicking constantly toward the window.
The other carriage—his—followed behind them, quiet as a phantom.
How do I escape?
She bit her lip, thoughts tumbling over each other. There had to be a way out. Maybe when they made camp. Maybe during the night. Maybe—
The road stretched endlessly through a darkening forest, the rhythmic creak of the wheels lulling her into a haze. The day's weight pressed down on her like stones tied to her limbs.
She didn't know how long they traveled.
But eventually, sleep claimed her.
And just as her dreams began to blur into shadows—
The carriage lurched to a jarring halt in the middle of nowhere.