The Night My Alpha Stopped Looking for Me

Lyra’s POV

I sat on the edge of what used to be our bed — mine and Thorne’s. His side had been untouched for more than a year, the sheets cold and untouched. The silence around me was almost suffocating, pressing against my chest like a weight I couldn’t shake off.

Once, this room had smelled of lavender from my oils, its air soft and warm with affection. Now, it reeked of emptiness — of a love that had rotted away and left behind only bitterness.

My fingers trembled around the phone in my hand. I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the call button. For a long moment, I just breathed. Then I pressed it.

The line barely rang before a voice answered — deep, sharp, and filled with restrained fury. “Lyra,” Alpha Corvin said, his tone smooth but edged like a blade. “To what do I owe this sudden call?”

I swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “I… need your help,” I admitted. My voice shook slightly before I forced it steady. “I need you to come get me out of Moonveil Pack. I’ll be ready once the elder finalizes everything.”

For a moment, there was only silence. When Corvin finally spoke, his words dripped with anger. “Help? After all these years? After you chose him over me?”

Guilt washed through me like ice water. “I made a mistake,” I said softly. “I thought I knew what I wanted.”

He gave a low, bitter laugh. “A mistake? I offered you everything — a bond, loyalty, love — and you ran off with the first wolf who promised you the world.”

“I thought he’d learn to love me,” I whispered. “I thought I made the right choice.”

“And now you see the truth,” he said sharply. “So what do you want from me now?”

“I’m leaving him,” I replied, barely above a whisper. “But I need time. There are things I have to take care of before I go.”

Corvin’s tone dropped to something darker. “You have two weeks, Lyra. If you’re not free by then, I’ll come and take you myself.”

Then the call ended.

The phone slipped from my hand, landing beside me on the bed as the dial tone hummed faintly. His words lingered, heavy and possessive. He hadn’t changed — still as controlling as ever — yet there was protection buried in that threat. I didn’t know whether to feel comforted or terrified.

Sleep never came that night. I wandered through the Luna quarters like a ghost, my fingers brushing along polished tables and velvet curtains. Eventually, I found myself opening drawers, pulling out the gifts Thorne had given me over the years.

A ruby necklace — stunning, expensive, but hollow. I had always preferred emeralds, the color of calm and renewal.

An orange handbag — loud, flashy, completely unlike me. That had always been Lilith’s color. I liked soft greens, quiet earth tones.

A golden bracelet — elegant, but cold. I had always been drawn to silver — understated, resilient, quietly strong.

It hit me then — even in the things he chose for me, Thorne never really saw me.

When the first light of dawn touched the curtains, I heard the front door creak. Thorne entered, hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, and smelling unmistakably of another woman — Lilith.

His gaze fell on the items laid neatly on the table. “What’s all this?”

“Just things I don’t need anymore,” I said calmly, though my chest ached with every word. “Maybe Lilith would appreciate them. They suit her more than me.”

He said nothing. No irritation, no guilt — only a small, indifferent nod, as if I’d mentioned something trivial. That indifference stung worse than any argument ever could.

Then came a sudden crash.

We both turned. Lilith stood near the wall, her eyes wide as she stared down at the shattered remains of our wedding photo. A large framed picture — the one of me and Thorne smiling beneath the altar — lay broken across the floor.

“Oh no,” she gasped, feigning innocence as she crouched to gather the shards. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to break it.”

Thorne immediately rushed to her, worry etched on his face. “Are you hurt?”

Lilith shook her head, tears glistening. “Just startled.”

He pulled her close, holding her protectively. “You’re what matters most, Lilith. Nothing else.”

I stood motionless, my gaze falling to the splintered glass. The cracks reflected our marriage — once whole, now irreparable.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, bending to help. A sharp sting cut through my finger as a shard drew blood, but I didn’t stop.

When I looked up again, I saw Lilith’s expression change — a glint of satisfaction flickering beneath her false concern. “Alpha… I don’t feel safe being alone tonight,” she said sweetly. “My staff’s gone for the evening. Could I stay here for a while?”

“Of course,” Thorne said instantly. “Stay in the Luna quarters. They’re the most comfortable.”

He didn’t even look my way. Didn’t ask. Didn’t care.

So I walked out quietly and went to the guest room. The air there felt stale, untouched. The bed was stiff, the furniture dull — not a room meant for a Luna.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face looked hollow, my eyes rimmed with exhaustion. The color had drained from my skin. Loving Thorne had drained everything from me.

The tears came easily this time — not just for him, but for myself. For the years I had wasted, for the woman I had allowed myself to become. I had surrendered my strength and my pride to a wolf who saw me only as a replacement.

But that ended tonight.

I opened my old journal, the one I hadn’t touched since before the marriage, and began to write — not about Thorne or Lilith, but about me. My thoughts. My anger. My rediscovery.

I wasn’t just someone’s second choice.

I was going to be my own first.