Chapter 5 05

• The night was unnaturally silent, the kind that pressed against the chest like a weight. Lysander approached the small wooden house at the edge of the forest, his footsteps dragging along the dusty path. His heart was heavy, a storm of emotions swirling within him. Shame. Anger. Confusion. And worst of all—rejection.
• Minutes ago, everything had shattered.
• The memory was still vivid in his mind: the look of disgust on Princess Astra’s face as she turned away from him. Just like that, she rejected him—as if he were nothing.
• What did I expect? he thought bitterly. That she'd open her arms and smile? Welcome me like a hero? He scoffed under his breath. I'm a joke. A sore loser who can't even hold his ground. A burden.
• “She can't just reject us that way, we need to talk to her, take me to her," came a voice in his head—raspy, dark, desperate.
• Magnus.
• Lysander flinched as the presence of the other half of him stirred, unwanted.
• “Magnus, just… leave me alone for now,” he muttered aloud, a groan escaping his lips.
• But silence followed. Magnus retreated. For now.
• Lysander reached the door and gently pushed it open, cringing at the soft creak it gave. He didn't want to see anyone, not after today. Not in this state. He just needed to disappear, to vanish into the shadows of his room and try to forget.
• He stepped inside, careful and quiet. Darkness filled the house. No lanterns lit. No sounds. Odd. His brows furrowed.
• As he tiptoed forward, his foot collided with something solid. It rolled slightly with a sickening thud. He hissed and cursed under his breath, then reached for the light switch on the wall.
• The room blinked into clarity.
• And the world around him shattered once more.
• “Sage?” The name tumbled from his lips as he dropped to his knees.
• His older brother lay sprawled across the wooden floor, limbs twisted unnaturally. Blood pooled around him, soaking into the boards, staining everything it touched. Lysander crawled forward in disbelief, his hands trembling as they touched Sage’s arm—cold and limp.
• “Sage!” he cried, shaking him gently at first, then harder. “Sage, wake up! Please!”
• No answer. No breath. Just silence.
• Panic clawed at Lysander’s chest. “Mum! Dad!” he yelled, stumbling to his feet. His legs were heavy, barely responding as he bolted down the hall toward their room.
• He froze in the doorway.
• There they were—his mother and father—lying close together on the floor, blood staining their nightclothes. His mother’s eyes were open, vacant. His father’s chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.
• “No. No no no no,” Lysander whispered, stumbling toward them. “Please don’t do this to me. Please, mum, dad. Please…”
• His knees hit the floor hard, and tears rushed down his cheeks, hot and relentless.
• “Ly…san…der…”
• He looked up, heart skipping.
• “Dad?” he gasped, crawling closer.
• Mr. Blackwood’s face was pale, his breaths short and pained. But his eyes locked on Lysander with startling clarity, despite the death closing in on him.
• “Run… Take Zane with you…” he rasped. “He’s in the… kitchen cupboard. Go. Now. They’ll come back.”
• “What? Who—who did this?” Lysander cried, gripping his father's bloodied hand. “Why would anyone do this to us?”
• Mr. Blackwood didn’t answer. Instead, he fumbled at his side, pulling something from beneath him.
• A bracelet. Blue pearl beads strung together with a faint glow. It shimmered faintly in the dim room.
• “You’re… not our child, Lysander,” his father whispered. “We found you… twenty years ago… floating in a wooden box on the river. A newborn… barely a day old. You had this bracelet with you…”
• Lysander stared at him, stunned. “What…?”
• “We knew someone was trying to hurt you. We raised you as our own. Loved you like our son. You are our son. But your real family… they’re out there.”
• His father took a shaky breath, slipping the bracelet onto Lysander’s wrist. It tightened slightly, warm against his skin.
• “You need to find your people. The bracelet will guide you. And Lysander…” He paused, coughing violently. Blood trickled from his mouth. “Promise me. Protect Zane. He’s your brother. You must keep him safe.”
• Lysander swallowed hard, nodding furiously through tears. “I promise. I won’t let anything happen to him.”
• A howl echoed in the distance—deep, sharp, too close.
• “They’re back,” Mr. Blackwood whispered. “Go.”
• “Dad—!”
• “GO!” His voice, though frail, boomed with finality.
• And then… he went still.
• Lysander watched as the last breath left his father’s chest. His arm fell limp, eyes glazed.
• “No… DAD!” he sobbed, clutching him one last time before the howls drew closer—closer than before.
• Lysander leapt to his feet, his grief pushed aside by instinct. He sprinted to the kitchen, throwing open the cupboard.
• “Zane!” he whispered urgently.
• Inside, his ten-year-old brother was curled up, eyes wide, tears streaming down his face. He was shaking, his hands clamped over his mouth to keep himself from screaming.
• Lysander scooped him up, holding him close. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
• The back door was his only option now. He burst through it, sprinting into the night, into the thick darkness of the woods.
• The wind roared in his ears. Branches tore at his skin. But he didn’t stop.
• Not until he heard it—the sound of paws pounding against the earth. He turned back for just a moment.
• Wolves.
• At least four of them, black as the night, slipping into the house.
• But he recognized the mark on their flanks.
• The crest of the royal guard.
• Lysander’s stomach dropped. “The Alpha…” he muttered, eyes narrowing, heart burning with rage. “He did this. They all did this.”
• He pulled Zane closer, jaw clenched tight.
• “I’ll make them pay. Every last one of them.”
• And then he disappeared into the forest, the weight of a lost family and a new destiny pressing on his shoulders.
• ---
• "What have you done, what have you done?" Rafa’s voice boomed inside Astra head, a mix of fury and desperation that made Astra flinch.
• Her head throbbed from the intensity of their bond being pulled taut, and she groaned, pressing her fingers against her temples.
• “It wasn’t my fault,” she muttered aloud, even though she knew Rafa could hear her clearly from within.
• “It was your fault,” Rafa snarled. “You were flirting with another man—right in front of him!”
• “That man is my boyfriend!” she snapped back mentally. “What was I supposed to do? Pretend like he didn’t exist just because my so-called ‘mate’ showed up out of nowhere?”
• “You didn’t just pretend, you were enjoying it. You knew he was watching!” Rafa roared.
• Astra winced at the truth of it. Maybe a small part of her had wanted to provoke him. Maybe she hadn’t been ready to accept the bond… Maybe she was just scared.
• “I hate him so much, that Kieran” Rafa growled, sulking like a wounded beast. “But I hate you more right now.”
• Astra sighed and sank onto the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall.
• “Okay. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight,” she admitted quietly. “But what do you expect me to do now? It’s done.”
• “Speak to him,” Rafa pleaded, though the anger still simmered beneath. “Apologize. Swallow your pride. I want my mate back.”
• Astra scoffed. “You know I can’t do that.”
• “Then don’t speak to me.”
• Silence.
• “Rafa?”
• Nothing.
• She blinked, suddenly feeling emptier than before.
• “Rafa, come on,” she called out mentally, reaching for the presence that had always been part of her since her first transformation.
• But Rafa was gone. Not physically—never physically—but she had locked her out. And that silence hurt more than any argument.
• She groaned in frustration and flopped back on the bed, pressing her palms into her eyes. The room was dimly lit by the warm orange glow of the setting sun that filtered through the curtains.
• Her heart felt like it was caught in a warzone. She’d hurt her mate. The moment she’d met him—the second their eyes locked—she’d known. The connection was real, undeniable. But she hadn’t been ready. And instead of handling it with grace or courage, she’d made it worse.
• A knock sounded on the door.
• Before she could respond, it opened and in walked Alpha Wynter—her father.
• “Is something troubling you?” he asked, his tone gentle, but his sharp eyes didn’t miss much.
• Astra quickly sat up, forcing a smile. “No, Dad. I’m fine.”
• He arched a brow, clearly not convinced, but didn’t press her. Instead, he walked over and sat beside her on the bed. The weight of his presence was always comforting, solid and grounding.
• “You know,” he began, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “when your mother first found out I was her mate, she hated me for three weeks straight.”
• Astra blinked in surprise. “She what?”
• Wynter chuckled, his voice deep and rumbling. “Oh yes. She thought I was arrogant, too strong-headed, too… well, too Alpha. But eventually, she realized it wasn’t about control or expectation. It was about connection. Growth. Forgiveness.”
• Astra leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. “I think I really messed up, Dad.”
• He didn’t ask for details. He didn’t need to. “You can always talk to me, sweetheart,” he said softly. “And I promise you—on your mother’s grave—that nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m alive.”
• Her throat tightened, and she nodded. “Thanks, Dad.”
• They sat in silence for a moment before he rose, kissed the top of her head, and quietly left the room.
• The second the door closed behind him, the smile dropped from her face. Her shoulders slumped, the weight of guilt and longing sinking in again.
• She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The room felt colder without Rafa’s presence in her mind. They were bonded. Connected in a way most people never fully understood. Losing that voice—her voice—was like losing part of herself.
• “Rafa?” she whispered.
• Silence.
• Then, barely a whisper: “Fix it.”
• Her heart squeezed.
• She sat up slowly, determination lighting a fire in her chest. She had made a mistake. But maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t too late to make it right.