Lyra watched his unhesitating retreat and let out a laugh—hoarse, bitter, mocking. Yet tears surged up despite herself, beyond her control. The Alpha before her began to blur and merge with the seventeen-year-old pup from her memories. That young wolf used to wait for her after lessons with shelter on stormy nights. He'd press the sweetest honeycomb into her palm. He'd hold her hand tight and swear, so earnestly, that he'd protect her forever—that he'd never let anyone harm her.
As if sensing her gaze, Fenris paused for just a heartbeat as he climbed down with Selene in his arms. He glanced back at her. In that look, there seemed to be a flicker of reluctance—or maybe she imagined it.
Before she could read his expression clearly, one of his pack guards called out urgently from nearby: "Alpha, it's too dangerous here! Get the Ashenvale she-wolf out first!"
At the same moment, a hazy voice echoed through Lyra's mind—young, anxious, pleading: Lyra, don't be afraid. Don't trust him anymore...
Fenris didn't hesitate again. He strode toward the exit with Selene secure in his arms.