Beneath it, a formal declaration from Fenris Blackmoor's inner circle. The words were ice-forged, each sentence another claw raking across her name. And those deliberately distorted scry-images—the female in them was clearly Selene Ashenvale, yet Fenris's pack had twisted the evidence to frame Lyra instead.
The ninth time.
This was the ninth time Fenris had shielded her half-sister without a moment's hesitation, heaping all the filth onto Lyra's shoulders, sacrificing her honor to preserve Selene's image as the innocent, delicate Omega.
Lyra's fingers went numb as she scrolled through the endless flood of venom pouring through the howl-network. Her heart felt crushed in an invisible jaw, the pain so sharp she could barely draw breath.
But her tears had dried up long ago. Only a bone-deep numbness remained.
She tucked away her crystal and walked with heavy steps toward the place called home—a place that had long since become a cage.
The moment she pushed through the den's great doors, the gaudy opulence of the main hall assaulted her senses.