Damian avoided me for three days.
Three. Whole. Days.
No training.
No sarcastic comments.
No sideways glances when he thought I wasn't looking.
Just silence.
He didn't even look at me when I walked past him in the tunnels. Not once.
And everyone else noticed too.
Kellan gave me this smug little smirk like he knew something I didn't. The others whispered when I walked by, eyes flicking to my hands, my neck—like they expected a mate mark to suddenly appear there.
It didn't.
Not yet.
Because Damian was running.
From me.
From whatever this was.
From the truth.
My wolf had called him mate.
And now he was acting like I didn't exist.
I'd had enough.
By the end of the third day, I was done waiting.
---
I found him at the edge of the Outlands, crouched near the cliffs that overlooked the valley below. Sunset lit the sky in blood-orange, casting his profile in shadows and gold.
He didn't turn when I stepped behind him.
Of course he didn't.
"Nice view," I said tightly.
Still nothing.
I crossed my arms. "Ignoring me won't make me disappear."
Silence.
So I did what any furious, confused, totally not-hurt girl would do.
I kicked a rock straight at him.
It hit his boot with a loud thunk.
He sighed. "Seriously?"
"You want to act like a child? I'll treat you like one."
That got a reaction.
He stood slowly, brushing off his hands, finally facing me.
His expression was stone.
"What do you want, Lyra?"
I stepped closer. "You know what I want."
He arched a brow. "I doubt it."
I glared. "My wolf called you mate. You ran. Then you ghosted me like a coward."
His eyes narrowed. "Careful."
"Or what? You'll glare at me harder?"
His voice turned cold. "This isn't a game Lyra."
"And who says it is!"
"Well maybe you should," he snapped. "Because if you think this—whatever your wolf is feeling—is real, you're going to get hurt."
My stomach twisted. "Why? Because you're too broken to feel it too?"
His face darkened.
"You don't know me," he said through gritted teeth.
"I'm trying to," I shot back. "But you won't let me in."
He looked away.
I stepped in front of him again.
"Why won't you just admit it?"
He clenched his jaw.
"Say you feel it too. You must feel this too."
"I don't."
Liar.
"You do," I said. "I know you do."
He barked a bitter laugh. "You're not the first she-wolf to throw around that word."
"You think this is some Crescent fantasy?"
"I think you're looking for a savior. And I'm not it."
"No," I said, "I think you're making up excuses."
He flinched.
I pressed in.
"Is this about Mira? About your pack? Because they hurt you, not me. I'm not them."
"It doesn't matter," he said softly like he was exhausted.
"Yes, it does," I said.
He stared at me, eyes serious. "You really want to know the truth?"
"Yes."
He stepped back, like getting too close might physically hurt me.
"I'm cursed, Lyra."
I blinked. "What?"
"I don't want a mate. I can't have one. Everyone I love—everyone—ends up dead."
He dragged a hand through his hair, finally unraveling. "My sister. My friends. Even my parents—they turned on me before they were killed. The pack blamed me for the whole damn thing. Said I brought ruin on us."
My chest tightened.
"I believed them," he said, voice cracking. "Still do sometimes."
He looked at me again—and now I saw it. Not anger.
Fear.
Real, bone-deep fear.
"You're not cursed," I whispered.
He shook his head. "Don't say that."
"You're not."
"I am. And if you stay near me—if you accept what your wolf thinks we are—you'll die too."
"That's not fate," I said. "That's fear talking."
He looked like he wanted to scream.
But I stopped him.
I stepped closer, took his face in my hands, and kissed him.
Hard.
---
The world spun.
Not just from the kiss—but from the truth that exploded behind my eyes.
A vision.
Just like before.
And I saw everything.
---
Not a dream.
Not a haze.
A vision.
A memory not mine—but his.
---
Snow fell heavy that day.
The pack gathered in a circle, eyes cold and unforgiving.
Damian stood in the center, blood staining his clothes—his sister's blood.
"She died because of him," someone whispered.
"He let them in."
"He's cursed."
"He should've died with her."
"He's a disgrace."
Damian dropped to his knees, screaming Mira's name.
But no one moved.
Not one step toward him.
His Alpha stood above him, voice like a blade.
"You are hereby stripped of rank. Cast out. May the wild claim your soul."
Damian looked up, face streaked with blood and tears.
"Please," he choked.
But no one listened.
They turned their backs.
All of them.
Even the ones who used to call him brother.
---
My eyes snapped open.
We broke apart.
I stepped back, struggling to breathe and make sense of what I'd just seen.
Damian held on to my wrist. "What was that? What's wrong?"
I looked at him, tears rolling down my face.
"I saw it." I whispered. "Your memories. Mira. The truth you were hiding."
His face went pale.
"You weren't cursed Damian," I said softly. "They betrayed you. Your own people."
Damian froze.
Then—
He sank to his knees.
Like the truth finally broke him.
Like he'd been carrying it so long he didn't know how to stand without it.
I knelt with him.
Held his hand.
"I believe you," I whispered.
His voice cracked. "Why?"
"Because I've been blamed too," I said. "Because I've been called things I'm not. Weak. Broken. Unworthy."
His fingers tightened around mine.
"I'm not letting you carry this alone anymore. I'm here for you." I said.
"I don't want you to get hurt Lyra" he said weakly.
He looked at me.
And for the first time—
He didn't push me away.