Lyra's lungs burned as she raced through the trees. Twigs snapped under her feet, and twigs clawed at her face. The howls behind her grew louder.
Five wolves. Maybe more. All hunting her.
She ducked under a fallen tree, her heart pounding against her chest. The mark on her wrist throbbed painfully, as if trying to pull her back toward him. Toward the Alpha. Her supposed mate.
I won't go back. I can't.
A wolf's howl cut the air, much closer now. Lyra stumbled, stopping herself against a tree trunk. Her legs ached from running, but stopping meant arrest.
"There she is!" a deep voice yelled.
Lyra spun around to see a tall fighter with a scarred face pointing at her. Three more pack members appeared from the trees, slowly circling her.
"The Alpha wants you alive," the warrior said, moving closer. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Lyra backed away, her eyes moving between the warriors. "Stay away from me."
"You're his mate," a female fighter said, her voice softer. "Why are you running? Most wolves would kill to be the Alpha's Luna."
Lyra's back hit a big boulder. Trapped. "I don't want any of this," she hissed.
The scarred warrior lunged forward. Lyra ducked, letting him crash into the boulder. She spun and kicked the legs out from under another fighter, then bolted toward a gap in their circle.
Freedom was just steps away when something heavy slammed into her back. Lyra hit the ground hard, the air knocked from her lungs. She thrashed wildly, clawing at the ground as a heavy weight pinned her down.
"Got her!" the warrior on top of her shouted.
Lyra twisted, snapping her teeth at his arm. Her wolf was close to the surface, desperate to break free.
"She's a fighter," one of them laughed. "Alpha picked a wild one."
"Get off me!" Lyra hissed, bucking against his weight.
Another warrior grabbed her arms, pulling them behind her back. "Stop fighting. You're just making it—"
He froze suddenly, his grip weakening. Lyra felt the shift in the air as all four fighters went still.
"Turn her over," the female fighter said, her voice strange. "I need to see her face."
Rough hands flipped Lyra onto her back. She looked up at them, breathing hard, hair tangled across her face.
"Mother Moon," the female fighter whispered, stepping back. "It can't be."
The scarred fighter knelt beside Lyra, pushing her hair away from her face. His eyes widened. "She looks just like..."
"Like Elara," the female fighter finished. "But Elara's dead."
Lyra went still. They knew her sister. Of course they did. Her sister had been the favorite, the perfect daughter of the Alpha, before the accident.
Before Lyra had killed her. Or so everyone thought.
"Who are you?" the scarred warrior asked.
Lyra pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.
"She has the mate mark," another fighter said, pointing to her wrist. "She's the Alpha's chosen."
"But how can that be?" the female asked. "The Alpha was meant for Elara. Everyone knew that."
Lyra's mind raced. What did they mean, the Alpha was meant for Elara? Her sister had been only nine when she died. How could she have been meant for anyone?
Unless...
"Take her to the Alpha," the scarred warrior directed, pulling Lyra to her feet. "He needs to see this."
They dragged her through the forest, mumbling to each other in shocked whispers. Lyra stumbled along, her mind spinning with questions. The Alpha – Narek – had known her sister? Had been meant for her? Was that why he seemed so angry about their mate bond?
As they reached the pack lands, the trees thinned. Lyra could see the pack house in the distance, a huge stone building perched on the hillside. Her stomach twisted with fear.
"The Alpha's back," one fighter said, pointing to a figure stalking across the yard.
Narek. Even from this distance, Lyra could feel his power, his anger. Their bond pulled at her, making her skin tingle despite her fear. She hated the feeling.
"Alpha!" the scarred fighter called out. "We found her!"
Narek turned, his blue eyes locked onto Lyra. Even across the distance, she could feel his shock, his uncertainty.
He sees it too, she realized. He sees Elara in my face.
The soldiers pushed her forward. Lyra dug in her feet, but it was no use against their strength. As they drew closer, she saw Narek's face harden.
"Inside," he ordered, turning toward the pack house. "Bring her to my office."
The warriors marched her up the stone steps and through huge wooden doors. Pack members stopped to stare as she passed, their whispers following her down the hall.
"Is that—?" "She looks just like—" "But that's impossible—"
Lyra kept her head high, unwilling to show fear despite the panic churning inside her. They reached a heavy door at the end of the hall. The scarred fighter knocked once before pushing it open.
"The girl, Alpha," he stated, shoving Lyra inside.
She stumbled into a big office. Narek stood with his back to her, looking out a window. The door closed behind her with a heavy thud, leaving them alone.
Silence stretched between them, thick with stress. Lyra stood her ground, though every urge screamed at her to run.
"You look like her," Narek finally said, his voice low. "Why?"
Lyra raised her chin. "I don't know who you're talking about."
He turned slowly, his blue eyes burning into hers. "Don't lie to me. You have her face, her scent. You even move like her." He stepped closer. "What game are you playing?"
"No game," Lyra said, backing away. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Elara," he growled, catching her wrist and turning it to show her mate mark. "You look exactly like Elara."
The name hit Lyra like a physical blow. "She was my sister," she whispered.
Narek's eyes flashed with shock, then anger. "Impossible. Elara had no sister."
"She did," Lyra insisted. "I'm Lyra. We were separated when I was eight, after the accident."
"Liar!" Narek roared, his grip tightening. "Elara told me everything about her life. She never mentioned a sister."
Lyra's blood ran cold. "What do you mean, she told you? Elara died ten years ago."
A strange smile crossed Narek's face. "Is that what you believe?" He pulled her closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Elara isn't dead, Lyra. And she's been my mate for years."
The room seemed to spin around her. "That's not possible," Lyra gasped. "I saw her drown. I was there!"
"You saw what you were meant to see," Narek said, his eyes searching her face. "And now I need to know why the Moon Goddess has given me your mark when Elara already bears it."
Before Lyra could reply, the door burst open. Marcus, the Beta, stood there, his face pale.
"Alpha," he said quickly. "She's here."
"Who?" Narek asked, still gripping Lyra's wrist.
Marcus's eyes flicked to Lyra, then back to Narek. "Elara. She's just arrived at the gates."
Narek's face went blank with shock. He released Lyra's wrist, stepping back as if burned.
"That's impossible," he whispered. "Elara is with her father. She can't be here."
A chill ran down Lyra's spine as a feminine laugh echoed from the hallway. A laugh she hadn't heard in ten years.
"Hello, sister," a strangely familiar voice called. "Did you miss me?"