Chapter 22

Lyra stood frozen like a statue, her hand hovering near the crimson welt rising on her cheek. She looked like she couldn’t decide whether she’d just woken from a nightmare or fallen into one. I slowly rotated my wrist, feeling the buzz of adrenaline still pulsing beneath my skin. “That one was for the past three years,” I said quietly, almost to myself. My palm stung, but the ache in my chest felt... lighter. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t swallowing my anger or forcing myself to smile. I wasn’t shrinking to keep the peace. For three years, I let them trample over me like I was nothing more than a pretty figurine on Darius’s shelf — something delicate and silent. I thought that if I was patient, if I was kind, if I proved myself useful enough, they’d accept me. I convinced myself that adjusting to them was part of loving Darius — that enduring their disdain and cruelty was just something I had to tolerate as his mate. As his omega. I couldn’t have been more wron