10 Years

POV Declan

The heavy clinic door clicks shut behind me, sealing away the sight of her small, trembling frame, but it does nothing to block out the horrific truth ringing in my skull.

Ten freaking years.

Not a few passing months. Not a brief, terrifying ordeal. A full decade. For ten years, Lyra was locked in a filthy cage, systematically abused, starved, and broken by disgusting monsters. The sickening realization hits my bloodstream like a shot of adrenaline. My inner wolf, Bram, slams his massive weight against my carefully constructed mental barriers. He scratches at the inside of my skull, driven into an absolute, murderous frenzy.

*“Protect. Kill them all,”* Bram growls relentlessly. His deep, vibrating voice rattles my teeth. He wants out. He wants to hunt down every single shifter who ever laid a hand on her and tear their throats out with our teeth.

I drag a heavy hand down my face, forcing my breathing to steady. I had to leave her room. If I stayed even a second longer, Bram would have bypassed my control and forced a shift right there on the clinic floor. Shifting into a six-foot midnight-black wolf in front of a deeply traumatized, terrified girl would have destroyed the tiny sliver of progress we just made.

But distance does not quiet my mind. Seeing her finally cleaned up in the clinic was a massive shock to my system. Beneath the thick layers of dried blood, grime, and fading purple bruises, Lyra is stunning. Her striking teal eyes and stark, snow-white hair sparked a startlingly intense, visceral physical attraction within me the second I looked at her. I felt an immediate, burning urge to run my fingers through that white hair, to pull her close and bury my nose in her neck.

Where the hell did that come from? I clench my fists, my knuckles popping in the quiet hallway. My logical mind fights back against the primal, instinctual pull. She is an omega, yes, and she is beautiful, but she is not my fated mate. I am twenty-eight years old. I have waited this long, holding out steadfastly for a true, destined bond to form. I want what my parents had—the all-consuming love and respect of a true mate. Taking a chosen mate now, especially one who is so fundamentally broken and fragile, is a terrible idea.

Seething with untamed rage and desperate for a distraction, I leave the clinic and head toward the main pack house. My boots hit the pavement with heavy, aggressive thuds. I need to burn this off. I need to hit something until my knuckles bleed.

I push through the heavy front doors of the pack house and immediately bump directly into Maeve.

Her floral perfume hits my nose, a sharp, cloying contrast to the sterile scent of the clinic. Maeve and I have an established arrangement. We are strict friends with benefits. We engage in casual sex to take edge off, nothing more. I have made my boundaries crystal clear, but she persistently and annoyingly pushes for a committed relationship that I flatly refuse to give her. She seduces me any chance she gets, knowing full well I am saving myself for a destined mate.

“Hey Declan, where have you been?” Maeve asks, stepping into my personal space. She reaches out, trailing a hand down my chest. “I went to your office, and you weren’t there. I wanted to see if you were up for a lunch date? I called and messaged you, but you didn’t answer.”

I step back, letting her hand fall away. I am too angry for her games right now, but I try to keep my tone level. “Oh, sorry. I haven’t checked my phone. I was down at the clinic with Nolan.”

She frowns, her perfectly plucked eyebrows drawing together. “You had to go down there for that? Why didn’t you just ask him how the rescued she-wolf was doing?”

“I wanted to go,” I reply concisely. I run a hand through my hair, needing a brief diversion from Bram’s roaring. “I was able to get her to wake up. We learned her name. Lyra. I also learned she was kidnapped ten years ago. The poor little omega didn’t even know how old she was. She is mute. Hearing what she went through… it was sickening.”

Maeve’s eyes widen slightly, but not with horror. Her reaction is jarringly dismissive and incredibly shallow.

“She’s an omega?” Maeve replies, her tone carrying a sharp hint of disdain. “I didn’t know that.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. She completely glosses over the horrifying revelation of a decade of severe abuse. A girl spent ten years locked in a cage, beaten and broken, and the only thing Maeve extracts from that information is Lyra’s rare omega status and the potential threat she poses to the pack dynamics.

“She is,” I say, my voice cooling instantly. “But that’s not really the part of the conversation I thought you would be shocked about.”

Maeve blinks, catching my harsh tone. She quickly backpedals, waving a manicured hand. “Yes, yeah, you’re right. Of course. I’m just shocked. Ten years is a long time, and not speaking is crazy.”

Her lack of empathy is profound and deeply irritating. I clench my jaw, my patience snapping.

“I don’t know if she can’t speak or is just choosing not to,” I say flatly. “Nolan thinks it is trauma-induced. I just need to get some frustration out first. My wolf is ready to tear the walls down.”

Maeve steps closer again, a sly, suggestive smile spreading across her lips. “Do you want me to help you with that? We could grab some food. Go up to your room. You can talk, I can give you a back rub, and we can blow off some steam.”

Her thinly veiled offer for casual sex makes my skin crawl in this specific moment. I don't need sex right now. I don't want her hands on me.

“No,” I reject her bluntly, stepping around her. “I need to hit something hard. I’m going to check in with Cassian and hit the training grounds. I will see you later.”

I don't wait for her response. I hurry down the hall, leaving her standing in the foyer. The moment I am clear, I open a mind-link directly to my Beta. I usually reserve the mind-link for when we are in wolf form, but I don't have the patience to dial a phone.

*“Cassian, you up for the dirt training grounds? Now. I need to stop Bram from bypassing my control and going on a slaughtering spree through the pack house.”* I project my voice with an uncompromising alpha tone.

Cassian’s voice echoes back a second later, dripping with his usual dark amusement. *“Well, I was just getting cleaned up from my visit with our nameless dungeon captive. I made quite a bloody mess down there. He still isn’t talking. I suppose I can meet you out back, your royal eminence. I would love to kick your ass so I can burn off this energy and take another shower. What has your panties in a twist?”*

*“I’m not in the mood for your shit today, Cassian,”* I snap through the link. *“I’ll explain why while I am kicking your ass into the dirt. Be there in five.”*

I strip my shirt over my head as I clear the back doors, breaking into a dead sprint toward the secluded dirt training grounds behind the tree line. The moment my boots hit the loose earth, I shed the rest of my clothes. I don't hesitate. I surrender to the beast.

Bones crack and reshape. Muscles tear and rebuild in seconds. Hot heat floods my veins as Bram forcefully takes over. I hit the dirt on four massive paws, standing over six feet tall at the shoulder. Midnight-black fur bristles along my spine, and my gold eyes scan the tree line.

A moment later, Cassian stalks out from the shadows. He shifts mid-stride. His wolf, Apollo, is slightly smaller than Bram but built like a tank. Apollo’s fur is pitch black with sharp gray highlights, and his glowing red eyes match his constant need for blood and violence.

We don't waste time with a warmup. We lock eyes and launch at each other.

We crash together in the center of the ring. The impact sounds like two cars colliding. I bite down on his scruff, tasting dirt and fur. We clash violently, snapping jaws, rolling through the thick dust. I throw my weight against his flank, sending him skidding across the ground.

As we spar, the physical exertion opens up our mental link. I aggressively vent my frustrations, dodging a vicious swipe from Apollo’s claws.

*“Lyra has me worked up!”* I snarl through the link, throwing a heavy paw into his shoulder. *“She woke up. Her blood is full of wolfsbane. She wrote down that she was kidnapped ten damn years ago!”*

Apollo ducks under my chest, his teeth grazing my ribcage. *“Ten years? Damn. That is messed up. Why keep her so long?”*

*“I don’t know!”* I roar, spinning and driving my shoulder into his ribs. *“We only got her name and the timeline before Bram lost his mind. He is riding me incredibly hard. He has this overwhelming, feral instinct to protect her at all costs. I almost shifted right in the middle of the clinic room.”*

Cassian stumbles back, shaking the dirt from his gray-streaked fur. He circles me, his red eyes gleaming with wicked taunt.

*“Wow,”* Cassian smoothly purrs through our mental link. *“He’s riding you hard, or he wants her to ride you hard?”*

I let out a thunderous growl, lunging forward with my jaws snapping inches from his snout. *“Shut up! This is serious.”*

I snap back defensively, loudly insisting on my own logic. *“It is nothing more than a primal, instinctual alpha need to protect a severely abused omega! I don't even know who her family is. Once she heals, she will return to her own pack. Catching any romantic or sexual feelings for her would be a genuinely terrible, disastrous idea. She is shattered. Ten years is too long.”*

We trade brutal blows, biting and tearing at each other’s tough hides. But Cassian, knowing me better than anyone in this world, effortlessly bypasses my physical defenses and hits a raw mental nerve.

*“You are right,”* Cassian agrees, his mental tone shifting into something sharper. *“But do you think Bram is hyper-protective just because she’s a broken omega... or do you think he’s protective because she’s an omega who was abducted—like your—”*

My vision flashes blood-red.

*“Finish that sentence and I will rip your freaking balls off!”* I snarl furiously through the link.

I throw my entire massive weight forward. I don't hold back. I brutally tackle Apollo down into the hard dirt, my jaws clamping directly over his throat. I pin him flat on his back, my chest heaving, crushing the breath out of his lungs. Dust billows up around us in a thick cloud.

Apollo yields slightly beneath my weight, his tail tucking just enough to show submission to his Alpha. But Cassian’s mind-link remains defiant, quickly pivoting to deliver a deadly serious warning.

*“Okay, please remove your paw from Apollo's balls,”* Cassian wheezes mentally. *“I am just warning you, Declan. She has to go home. Because if she stays here, and you end up catching actual feelings for her, Maeve will completely lose it. She will have her freaking neck.”*

I forcefully brush off his dramatic warning, loosening my grip on his throat. *“I am not going to catch feelings. She isn't my mate. And Maeve isn't going to do anything. She knows we are just friends.”*

I step back, letting him scramble to his paws. Apollo shakes off the dirt and glares at me.

*“Right. Keep telling yourself that,”* Cassian retorts, his mental voice devoid of humor. *“Maeve is nuts, Declan. Crazy knows crazy, and she's crazy. You think she is just clingy, but she is dangerously obsessed. She probably has a bag of your toenail clippings saved under her pillow.”*

I freeze for a fraction of a second, staring at him. *“She is not obsessed. Wait... toenail clippings?”*

Cassian doesn't answer. He lunges at me again.

We break apart and continue our brutal, yapping, physically exhausting spar. We throw each other into the dirt over and over again. We burn through the lingering, explosive aggression in our muscles, turning our rage into bruises and shallow scratches. We fight relentlessly for another full hour under the afternoon sun.

Finally, the fight drains out of us. We collapse on opposite sides of the dirt ring, tongues lolling, chests heaving, panting heavily into the dust. My blood has finally cooled. Bram has settled into a quiet, exhausted simmer in the back of my mind. The world feels still again.

Suddenly, an abrupt, panicked mind-link from Nolan pierces directly through my skull like an ice pick.

It instantly freezes the hot blood in my veins.

*“Declan, get back to the clinic right now… I can’t find Lyra.”*