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Later that night, Lyra sat by the fire place in their home, the crackling flames casting shadows that danced elegantly on the walls. Mason wasn’t home yet—again.

It was becoming more and more frequent, his late nights attending to “pack business.” He rarely provided details anymore, and when she asked, he would brush her off with vague answers. Every time he did, a knot twisted tighter in her stomach, the anxiety clawing intensely at her insides.

She hadn’t seen him since that morning, when he had left without so much as a kiss or hug. Not even a glance. Once, his absence would have crushed her, left her longing for his warmth, his touch. Now, it only deepened the coldness that had settled in her insides.

As the fire crackled and popped, Lyra’s thoughts wandered to the whispers she had overheard at the market a few days ago—women gossiping about the Alpha’s late-night movements and routines, about a certain female pack member who was often seen slipping in and out of the Alpha’s quarters.

You'd be surprised the things this women let you know when you tip them. Lyra had brushed it off at the time, refusing to let the venom of those rumors sink into her being. But the more she thought about it, the harder it became to dismiss.

It wasn’t possible. Mason wouldn’t do that to her. Or would he?

The front door creaked open slowly, and Mason stepped inside, his boots thudding softly against the oak wooden floor. His hair was slightly disheveled, his shirt wrinkled. He looked tired, but something about his appearance set Lyra on edge.

The scent of him—once intoxicating to her—now carried a strange, unfamiliar hint, one that made her stomach twist.

“Late again I see” she remarked, keeping her tone as neutral as she possibly could.

Mason glanced at her briskly, barely making eye contact as he made to remove his jacket.

“Pack business, Lyra” he muttered, the same excuse as previous times. Only less detailed than the last.

Lyra watched him, her eyes tracing the lines of his structured face, searching for any sign of the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago. But that man felt like a ghost now, slipping further and further away with each passing minute.

“Really Mason? Every night? It’s pack business every night?” Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying the emotion she had tried so hard to bury.

He stilled, finally turning to face her. His green eyes, once full of warmth, now seemed distant, dark. “What do you want me to say, Lyra? The pack needs me.”

“I need you, I'm Pack too. I'm your Luna for Moon sake” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire and tempting tears. She hated the vulnerability in her words, hated that she was the one begging for his attention when he should have been the one coming to her. Just like it used to be.

Mason’s jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his rough hair. “I don’t have time for this tonight. I’m exhausted please.”

He started making his way towards the hallway, intending to brush past her as though the conversation never happened. But Lyra couldn’t let it go, not this time. Something inside her snapped, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out.

“Are you seeing someone else?”

Mason froze mid-step. For a long, agonizing moment, he didn’t move nor did he speak. The deafening silence stretched on, suffocating, until finally, he turned to look at her. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt? Surprise? Whatever it was she couldn't tell but it was gone too quickly for Lyra to identify.

“You’re being ridiculous, Lyra” he said, his voice calm, maybe too calm. “I’ve told you, I’ve been busy with the pack. Why is that so hard to believe?”

Lyra stood, her fists clenching at her dress as anger and desperation collided inside her.

“I’m not blind, Mason. I know something’s wrong. You barely talk to me. You don’t even touch me.” Her voice broke, the weight of her unspoken fears crashing down on her like a tsunami. “I can feel it, Mason. You’re never here. You haven’t been here for months.”

Mason sighed, scraping the back of his neck. “Lyra, I—”

“What's her name?” She interrupted what seemed to be an attempt at defense.

The question hung in the air, thick and heavy with accusation. Mason’s head snapped up in a split second, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. For the first time in months, Lyra thought she saw real emotion on his face—panic, maybe even fear. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came.

“What?” he asked, his voice tight, controlled. “whose name? What in the moon's name are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at those girls. The way they're always around you. People are talking, Mason and it's becoming more and more harder for me not to listen” Lyra’s heart pounded in her chest, her hands trembling at her sides. She didn’t want to believe it, but the pieces were starting to fall into place bit by bit, and the picture they painted was too terrible to ignore.

Mason’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to her. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Lyra. Who you chose to listen to is absolutely your business and not mine. Anyone woman I am supposedly seen with is obviously someone working for me. Hell! everyone works for me. You think I would betray you with those ones? Really?”

Lyra flinched at the sharpness in his voice, but she refused to back down. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Mason. All I know is that something is definitely wrong. And if it’s not the girls, then what is it? Why are you shutting me out?”

For a long moment, they stood in tense silence, the distance between them feeling more like a chasm. Mason’s face was a mask of anger and dismay, but Lyra could see the cracks forming, the way his hands trembled slightly at his sides and the way his eyes flickered.

Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and controlled. “This conversation is over. I have nothing more to say to you. I'm going to bed. You can do same when you swim out from the depths your paranoia” He turned and walked away, leaving Lyra standing in the flickering firelight, her heart heavy with doubt and suspicion.

As the door to their bedroom clicked shut behind him, Lyra sank back into the nearest chair, her body trembling with the weight of her spoken and unspoken fears.