Lyra's POV
The kiss ended, leaving me standing on the altar like my very essence had been torn from my body. Kaelen's hands released their hold on me, but the mate bond between us pulsed with a terrifying permanence that made bile rise in my throat. Complete. Binding. Forever.
The most catastrophic decision of my existence.
I scanned the assembled crowd, desperate for a single sympathetic expression. One person who might question what they'd witnessed. Someone who could sense that everything about this ceremony felt wrong.
But there was nothing.
Every face reflected the same emotion back at me. Relief. Pure, undeniable relief. As if they'd barely avoided catastrophe because Alpha Kaelen had reluctantly agreed to claim me rather than wage war against Willow Brook. As though I represented a crisis that had been conveniently resolved.
Mrs. Wang from the bakery, who used to sneak me extra croissants, slowly shook her head in what looked like pity. Fletcher, a sentinel warrior I'd sparred with countless times and one of Cyrus's closest friends, stared at me with unmistakable revulsion. Even Arthur, the elderly tracker who'd taught me to hunt when I could barely reach his waist, averted his gaze when our eyes connected.
They felt grateful. Grateful that I was being removed from their lives. Grateful that my supposed insanity hadn't brought destruction upon them all.
I had worn this dress to protect them. I had walked down this aisle believing I was shielding my pack from annihilation. Now they regarded me like some dangerous creature they were fortunate to be rid of.
Tears threatened to blur my vision. I fought them back, and that's when I spotted her.
Helena positioned herself near the ceremony's front, one arm draped supportively around my father's shoulders. She was smiling. Actually smiling. Not obviously, but I caught it in the subtle upward curve of her mouth. This quiet, pleased expression as she comforted my father while he appeared utterly devastated.
His complexion had turned ashen. His posture had collapsed inward. He looked as though he'd aged a decade since this morning began. Yet he wasn't fighting for me. Wasn't demanding explanations. Wasn't challenging the obvious fabrications. He simply stood there, defeated, while Helena held him protectively.
This was the first time he'd never stood up for me. That realization cut deeper than anything else. The man who'd always been my advocate, even during my darkest moments, now doubted me. If he could betray me this way, why should any other treachery surprise me?
Something fundamental inside me shattered.
I stepped forward, straining against Kaelen's restraining grip. My fingers clenched into fists. All I could focus on was Helena's expression. That smile. The satisfaction gleaming in her eyes as she admired her masterpiece.
"You," I began, my voice trembling with fury rather than fear. "You orchestrated this. You gave me that dress. You told me to save the pack. You—"
Kaelen's hand locked around my arm like a steel trap. Hard enough to send pain shooting through my bones.
"Planning to run now, Omega?" His voice was arctic against my ear.
I whirled to face him, and accusations rushed up my throat before I could contain them. Words about his blindness. His stupidity. How could someone supposedly this powerful not see through such an obvious conspiracy? How could he stand here accepting every lie they fed him without questioning anything?
But when I met his stare, I found nothing except frozen contempt. His eyes were merciless. Absolute. Like he'd already judged everything about me and nothing I said would alter his verdict.
I wondered if my Omega status explained it. It always seemed to be the answer.
I wanted to scream at him. To shake him until he understood.
Instead, my gaze drifted past his shoulder, and I went completely still.
Cyrus.
He stood along the hall's edge, cradling Daphne in his arms. She'd apparently recovered from her theatrical collapse. He held her delicately, like she might break, his features tight with concern as he studied her battered face.
The air rushed out of my lungs.
Cyrus. My fated mate. The person the Moon Goddess herself had selected for me. He was involved in this conspiracy. He had to be. The way he supported Daphne, the tenderness in his expression, how he'd rejected our bond this morning. Everything connected into a picture so hideous I wanted to turn away.
But I couldn't. I remained frozen, staring at them while something essential inside me crumbled to nothing.
Life in Willow Brook had never been simple for me. I'd always understood that. I was the result of a fated mate bond that had destroyed a perfectly good marriage. My mother had been an Omega who'd appeared and stolen the Alpha away from his Luna wife. Helena had legitimate reasons to resent me. Daphne had grown up witnessing her mother's pain and learning to hate me for it.
I comprehended that. I truly did. I'd never expected their love.
But I thought there were limits. Boundaries. We were still family, weren't we? Still pack. Still connected by blood and bonds that should have mattered.
Apparently not.
Apparently, they could engineer this entire charade. Brutalize Daphne's own face until it bruised. Imprison her in a closet. Frame me for violence I'd never committed. Completely destroy my life while smiling throughout the process.
We were family. We shared blood.
And they'd done this regardless.
Daphne shifted in Cyrus's embrace. She murmured something to him, and he nodded, helping her stand. Her legs trembled, but she steadied herself, one hand pressed against her bruised cheek like she was still suffering tremendous pain.
Then she began walking toward us.
Kaelen turned to address my father and Helena. His voice carried across the hall, formal and courteous like we were attending a normal wedding instead of this catastrophe.
"Alpha Alaric. Luna Helena." He inclined his head slightly. "You're welcome to visit your daughter whenever you choose. Ironfang will always welcome you."
Helena's smile transformed into a widening sneer. "I will never come."
My father flinched. "Helena, don't be cruel."
"I cannot help speaking truthfully," she replied, her voice dripping with false reasonableness. "What she did was horrific. I couldn't bear seeing her face knowing what she's capable of."
"That's enough, Mother."
Daphne had reached us. She stood between Kaelen and me, with Cyrus hovering protectively behind her. Tears streamed down her face, making her bruises appear even more dramatic in the lighting.
She addressed Kaelen first, and her voice broke when she spoke. "I genuinely wanted to marry you, Alpha Kaelen. But fate has decided."
Then she faced me.
I watched it happen. Saw her expression shift into something resembling forgiveness and sorrow and sisterly affection all combined. Her eyes glistened with tears. Her lip quivered. She looked like a tragic heroine from those romance novels the pack women devoured.
"And I forgive you, little sister."
The words struck me like a physical blow.
"If the goddess has blessed this chosen match with divine approval," she continued, her voice wavering like she was suppressing sobs, "then it was destined to happen regardless of what you did to make it happen."
She pressed her hand to her mouth, her shoulders trembling. Cyrus moved closer, ready to catch her if she collapsed again.
"I wish you nothing but happiness," Daphne whispered.
Then she fell against Cyrus's chest, her face buried in his shoulder, her entire body shaking with emotion. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, murmuring something inaudible. The image they created was perfect. The wounded sister and her devoted protector. The girl who'd been wronged but remained noble enough to offer forgiveness.
I felt nauseous.
Daphne pulled away from Cyrus slightly, wiping her eyes. Then she moved toward me with outstretched arms.
"Let me hug you goodbye," she said softly. "Please."
I didn't want her anywhere near me. Every instinct screamed to retreat. But I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. My entire body felt paralyzed.
She embraced me, pressing close like we were genuine sisters who actually cared for each other. I felt her breath against my ear. Felt her body shake as if she were crying.
Then she whispered, so quietly only I could hear, "Thank you for taking the trash brute. I'll be busy with the sentinel and his ten inch cock tonight."
The words sliced through my shock like a blade. My hands shot up, grabbing her arms, and I shoved her away from me. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide and innocent, like I'd just attacked her without provocation.
I stared at her. Really studied her. At the false tears on her face. The calculated expression. How she positioned herself just close enough to Cyrus that everyone could see their connection.
Then I looked at Cyrus. At the man I'd believed was my destiny. Who I'd loved with everything I possessed. Who'd rejected me this morning without explanation. Over the phone, no less. He hadn't even had the decency to do it face to face.
My gaze swung to Helena, standing there supporting my broken father, that satisfied smile still playing at her lips.
"You two." My voice emerged strangled. I pointed at Daphne and Cyrus. "No. You three."
I had to include Helena. How could I forget her.
I stepped toward them, and the words tore out of me. "You will burn in hell. All three of you. You will—"
Daphne's expression shifted. Just for a moment, her mask slipped, and I glimpsed the sneer underneath. The pure satisfaction. The victory.
I took another step, moving down from the small platform where the altar stood. My foot hit the first step down to the main floor.
Then everything tilted sideways.
The hall spun around me. Faces blurred together. The light stretched into golden streaks. I heard someone shouting, but the sound seemed to come from very far away, like I was underwater.
My legs buckled.
The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Daphne's face, and she was smiling.