(Third Person’s POV)

    Lyra Riverwind stood in front of the territory window for a while, her silhouette outlined against the glittering city lights of Central Territory. The moonlight cast a silvery glow across her features, highlighting the calcting gleam in her eyes. She was lost in thoughts of power and maniption until a subtle movement from outside her room caught her attention.

    With practiced grace, she turned and walked to the bedside table. The moonlight nectar that Beta Thornwood had left earlier still sat there, untouched. In one swift motion, Lyra grabbed the ss and drained it in a single gulp, letting the sweet liquid slide down her throat.

    She ced the empty ss back on the table with a soft clink and moved toward the door. Her hand hesitated on the handle for just a moment before she pushed it open and stepped outside.

    In the spacious living area of the luxury territory suite, Yvette Riverwind sat on an elegant sofa, her shoulders slightly slumped as she gazed at nothing in particr.

    The moment she heard Lyra’s approach, she looked up, her eyes lighting with maternal affection tinged with something else – a deep, aching sadness.

    Beta Thornwood had just finished rying what she’d overheard – how Lyra had referred to her own mother simply as “Yvette Riverwind,” without the proper title or respect. The revtion had pierced Yvette’s heart like a silver dagger.

    What kind of life had her daughter endured during those lost years? What hardships had shaped her into someone who kept her own mother at such a distance? Even after being reunited for over a year, Lyra’s emotional walls remained high and imprable. The thought made Yvette’s chest constrict with guilt.

    If only she hadn’t been so careless back then… if only she had protected her pup better. Perhaps Lyra wouldn’t carry these invisible scars.

    Lyra, observing her mother’s troubled expression, approached with carefully calcted innocence. “Mother, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice pitched perfectly to convey concern without revealing her own anxiety.

    “Nothing,” Yvette replied with a gentle smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

    Then, to Lyra’splete surprise, Yvette rose from the sofa and enveloped her in a tight embrace. One hand stroked Lyra’s hair with tender affection while the other held her close, as if afraid she might disappear again.

    “It’s okay, pup,” Yvette whispered against her hair. “You can call me whatever you want in the future. It’s just a name, it’s not important. We have a long time together.

    We’ll take it slowly.”

    Lyra’s body went rigid with shock. This was not what she had expected. Where was the confrontation? The usations? The harsh words demanding to know why she would disrespect her own mother by using her name without proper title?

    In her experience with the lone wolf pack that had raised her, mistakes were always punished – severely and without mercy. No one had ever held her like this, with such tenderness, after she had erred. No one had ever totd her it was okay, that they had time to work things out together.

    Yvette Riverwind was the first person to ever respond to her failures withpassion instead of cruelty.

    Lyra had perfected the art of deception – knowing exactly when to be submissive, when to appear sweet and vulnerable, when to hide the darkness that lived inside her. But this unexpected kindness caught herpletely off guard. Something shifted in her chest, a hairline crack appearing in the wall she had built around her heart.

    Before Lyra could process these unfamiliar feelings, Yvette released her and pressed a rolled-up territory den floor n into her hands.

    “Look,” Yvette said softly, her eyes filled with hope. “Do you like it? You like Central Territory, right? Mother decided, we’ll settle down here from now on. If you like this territory den, we’ll go and reserve it tomorrow.”

    Lyra stared at the floor n, unable to form words.

    “It’ll be in your name,” Yvette continued, “as a gift from your mother.”

    Lyra unrolled the document with trembling fingers. The floor n revealed a luxury territory den with a private hunting ground in front and an expansive moonlight pool in the back. It was located in the most prestigious pack area of Central Territory – the kind of property that even powerful Alphas coveted.

    Normally, Lyra would have squealed with delight, throwing her arms around Yvette in a show of gratitude while internally calcting the property’s value in rare hunting grounds. She would have already been nning how to leverage this new asset.

    But something strange was happening. The words that came out of her mouth weren’t calcted or maniptive

    – they felt unfamiliar, almost foreign, as they passed her lips.

    “You said it’s our home,” Lyra heard herself say, her tone uncharacteristically stiff.

    . “Wherever Mother is, that’s my

    home. So, the territory den should be in your name.”

    The moment the words left her mouth, Lyra was stunned by her own sincerity. It felt wrong, dangerous even – like exposing a vulnerable underbelly to a potential predator.

    Yvette’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What did you say?”

    Panic flooded Lyra’s system, her survival instincts screaming at her to retreat, to regain control of the situation. “Nothing!” she eximed, hastily cing the floor n on the sofa.

    She stood up awkwardly, nearly stumbling in her haste. “I just… I need to rest. Goodnight, Mother.”

    Without waiting for a response, Lyra hurried back to her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

    In the living area, Yvette turned to Beta Thornwood, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. “Did you hear that?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion. “She said wherever I am, that’s her home!”

    Beta Thornwood, who had witnessed the entire exchange with quiet surprise; nodded. “I heard it, I heard it….”

    Yvette wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and picked up the floor n, clutching it to her chest. “I’ll go buy the territory den tomorrow,” she dered with newfound determination. “My daughter needs a proper home, a ce where she can finally feel safe and loved.”

    Behind the closed door of her bedroom, Lyra sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clenched into fists against the silken covers. What was wrong with her? How could she have rejected a territory den worth hundreds of rare hunting grounds just because of a few kind words?

    “Stupid,” she hissed to herself, digging her ws into her palms until she felt the sharp sting of pain. “You’re being stupid.”She forced herself to think rationally. That’s it – she was simply being practical. If the truth about her identity ever came out, she would need to leave quickly. Territory dens were difficult to liquidate, unlike resource credits that could be transferred instantly.

    Yes, that was the logical exnation. It had nothing to do with the warmth she’d felt when Yvette had hugged her or the unfamiliar ache in her chest when she’d seen tears in the older she-wolf’s eyes.

    She couldn’t afford to have expectations about pack affection or family bonds. It was all built on a lie. Yvette Riverwind’s kindness was predicated on the belief that Lyra was her biological daughter. In reality, she was just a thief who had stolen another wolf’s identity.

    When the truth inevitably emerged, all that kindness would disappear like morning dew under the harsh sun of reality.

    (Audrey’s POV)

    The c?ld marble counter felt shockingly pleasant against my overheated skin as Florian set me down in the territory washroom. The silver drug was still coursing through my system, making every sensation heightened and my thoughts hazy around the edges.

    Florian leaned close, his nose lightly brushing against mine. The simple contact sent electricity skittering down my spine.”Audrey,” he murmured, his golden eyes holding mine captive. “I’m a wolf with normal needs. It would be a lie to say I don’t want you.”

    His voice dropped lower, the admission rough with emotion. “Especially after waiting so many years for you.”

    I could feet the restrained power in his body, the tightly leashed control that was keeping him from acting on the desire I could clearly see in his eyes. Despite my drugged state, I recognized the struggle within him – the battle between what he wanted and what he knew was right.

    After a heartbeat of tense silence, he continued softly,” But our first time shouldn’t be like this.”

    His hand cupped my cheek, thumb gently tracing my jawline. “Do you understand?”

    I couldn’t help but feel aplex mixture of relief and disappointment. Even in mypromised state, I knew he was right. We had too many unresolved issues between us, too many exnations owed, too many wounds still raw.

    ‘…” I remained silent, ufortable with the intensity of the moment yet stilt clearheaded enough to process his words. Yes, I still owed him an exnation. Being confused about our rtionship status was unfair to both of us.

    Florian turned away from me and moved to the elegant w-foot bathtub that dominated the far wall of thewashroom. He turned the cold water on, the sound of rushing water filling the otherwise quiet room.

    After the bathtub had filled about halfway, he returned to where I sat perched on the marble counter. His expression was a careful mask, but I could see the struggle behind his eyes as he looked at me.

    “Should I help you take them off, or should I find other ways?” he asked, hesitation evident in his voice.

    The question hung between us,den with implications.

    My skin flushed hotter, not entirely from the silver drug.

    .)…l’ll do it myself,” I finally managed to reply.

    A brief sh of what might have been disappointment crossed Florian’s features before being reced by his customary teasing smirk. He seemed afraid of losing his strength of will if he stayed any longer.

    With graceful efficiency, he picked me up with one hand, supporting my weight as if I were no heavier than a pup.” You cleanse yourself,” he instructed, his voice husky. “I will get you some clothester.’

    He set me carefully on my feet beside the bathtub, then turned and walked to the door. His movements were controlled, almost rigid, as if he was forcing himself to leave.

    At the threshold, he paused and nced back at me. “Take as long as you need,” he said. Then, with visible reluctance, he stepped out of the washroom and gently closed the door behind him.

    The gentleness and affection that had been so evident in his earlier actions had disappeared, reced by a dangerous air of restraint – like a predator temporarily backing away from its prey.

    As I slowly began to undress, I knew this was merely a temporary reprieve. The conversation we needed to have the exnations I owed him – couldn’t be postponed much longer.