"Understood. I'll retrieve you in three moon cycles."
Three cycles later, I stood at the gates of the Pack Holding Cells to collect Alaric—without exposing his deception.
I caught his scent before I saw him, mingled with false notes of deprivation. He emerged dressed in torn furs, playing the part of an Alpha heir stripped of territory and status, reduced to nothing. He'd even used ash and herb paste to create a fake scar slashing across his jaw.
The moment his amber eyes found me, he limped forward, rushing toward me with exaggerated emotion.
"Lyra!"
He pulled me against his chest, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"I reflected on everything during my confinement. The Council Elders noted my reformed behavior and granted early release."
"Lyra, you've endured so much these past seasons. I'm deeply sorry."
He looked so sincere, so genuinely moved—as if he'd truly suffered through three years in the binding den.
But I gently pushed against his chest, my expression unchanged. "It's good you're free."
Alaric stiffened, his wolf clearly sensing something different in my demeanor. But the next heartbeat, he seized my wrist.
"Lyra, what happened here?"