Chapter Six: The Fracture Beneath

Lyra

She didn’t sleep that night.

Again.

The bond buzzed beneath her skin like electricity—unpredictable, volatile. But this time it wasn’t desire driving it. It was fear.

What she’d seen in the mirror wouldn’t leave her. That second symbol—twisted, half-buried behind her mother’s mark—it had burned through her like a brand.

And worse, Ronan had seen it.

She could feel him pacing just beyond her chamber. His emotions echoed through the bond—sharp edges, unspoken questions, pressure he hadn’t yet voiced.

He was waiting for her to come clean.

But some truths weren’t safe.

Some truths could break both of them.

⸻

Ronan

The moment the second symbol appeared in the mirror, he knew Lyra wasn’t telling him everything.

And he hated how much that hurt.

Not because he wanted her trust. Not really.

He needed it.

Because whatever that symbol was—whatever it meant—it had dark magic tangled in its roots. The mirror had recoiled from it. That never happened.

And she’d flinched too.

He leaned against the wall outside her chamber, arms crossed, fighting the itch under his skin. The bond wasn’t helping—it kept pulling at him, dragging his thoughts back to her.

The scent of her.

The sound of her voice when she wasn’t trying to bite him in half.

He was falling. And he knew it.

So when the door creaked open and she stepped out, barefoot and wide-eyed, he didn’t say a word.

She walked past him, down the empty corridor, until the cold wind from the open archway hit her skin.

He followed.

Of course he did.

⸻

Lyra

She didn’t look back.

The balcony was abandoned at this hour. Stars sharp overhead, wind howling through the cliffs.

But even out here, the bond pulsed. Like a second heartbeat under her own.

“I didn’t mean for you to see it,” she said.

Ronan stepped up beside her, silent.

“What was it?” he asked quietly.

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know.”

“Liar.”

His voice wasn’t cruel. Just disappointed.

She flinched.

“It’s not that simple,” she whispered. “That mark… it’s been haunting me for years. Before I even understood what my mother was hiding.”

“What was she hiding?”

“She wasn’t full wolf.”

That made him pause. “You mean she was human?”

“No.” Lyra swallowed. “She was… something else. I don’t know what. But it was wild. Untamed. Magic that didn’t obey any laws. Not even pack ones.”

“And you inherited it.”

She nodded. “It’s why I couldn’t shift at first. Why the other wolves could smell something wrong with me. Why I ran.”

Ronan studied her, quiet for a long moment.

Then he asked, “Are you dangerous, Lyra?”

She looked at him—really looked.

“Yes,” she said. “But not to you.”

⸻

Ronan

He should’ve walked away.

She was a risk. A fracture line just waiting to split open.

But gods help him, he couldn’t make his feet move.

Not when her voice trembled like that.

Not when she looked so alone.

He stepped behind her, close enough that her body stiffened. He didn’t touch her. Just stood there, letting the bond do the reaching.

“You could’ve told me,” he said.

“You would’ve locked me up.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I would’ve protected you, too.”

She turned then, eyes full of anger and something softer.

“You don’t know how to protect something without claiming it,” she said.

He reached out—slow, giving her time to move—but she didn’t.

His fingers brushed her cheek.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “I don’t.”

She leaned into the touch, just slightly.

And the bond roared to life.

It flared like lightning between them—heat, pressure, power. Her magic sparked again, a pulse of color flickering under her skin.

He caught her by the waist as she stumbled, grounding her.

“Let it go,” he said. “Stop holding it back.”

“I can’t,” she gasped. “It’s too much.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

She looked up at him—eyes wide, vulnerable.

Then she kissed him.

No warning. No pretense.

And gods—he kissed her back.

⸻

Lyra

His mouth was hot, demanding.

She wasn’t sure who moved first—but suddenly she was pressed against him, fingers tangled in his shirt, magic pouring out like wildfire.

His hands were strong on her back, one sliding into her hair, the other gripping her hip like he could anchor her through sheer force.

She needed that.

Needed him.

The bond surged again, magic threading between their bodies, syncing their breathing, their heartbeats.

This wasn’t fake.

This wasn’t a performance.

This was real.

And terrifying.

Because it felt right.

Because it felt like she could fall all the way into him and never find the bottom.

She pulled back, breathless. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I’ll destroy everything you’ve built.”

His voice was low, certain. “Then we’ll rebuild it. Together.”

She shook her head, stepping back. “You don’t understand. That mark—it’s not just a warning. It’s a curse. If I let it out…”

Her voice cracked. “It won’t stop.”

⸻

Ronan

The look in her eyes split him open.

She wasn’t just scared. She was convinced that loving her would cost him everything.

And it probably would.

But he didn’t care.

He reached for her again, slower this time. She didn’t run. Didn’t flinch.

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Let me in, Lyra.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because I see you,” he said. “The rage. The fear. The fire. I see it all, and I’m not running.”

Her lips parted. Her eyes shimmered.

Then—crack.

The bond snapped.

Not broken—just shifted.

The world tilted. Magic flooded his senses. And he felt her—truly, fully—for the first time.

Ancient. Wild. Beautiful.

Terrifying.

And his.

Even if she didn’t know it yet.