The Alpha’s Eternal Mate

The ride back to Midnight Crest Tower was filled with heavy silence. The dim glow of the streetlights cast fleeting shadows across Ethan's face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the tension that coiled tightly beneath his composed exterior. Lyra sat beside him in the backseat of the sleek black SUV, her mind replaying the events at Westwood's estate like a haunting melody she couldn't escape.

The way Ethan had moved—predatory, precise, and ruthless—was a stark reminder of the man he had become over the centuries. And yet, despite his hardened exterior, he had looked at her with something close to concern when the bullets had flown.

"You shouldn't have been there," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Lyra glanced at him, her heart hammering at the intensity in his voice. "I handled myself just fine."

Ethan's jaw tightened, his fingers drumming impatiently against his thigh. "That's not the point, Lyra."

"Then what is?" she challenged, shifting in her seat to face him. "I found the lead, Ethan. I had every right to be there."

His dark eyes snapped to hers, and for a moment, she saw something flicker beneath the cold surface—fear. "You could've been killed."

Lyra's breath caught, but she refused to look away. "I've been through worse."

Ethan exhaled sharply, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second before it hardened again. "This isn't a game. The people we're dealing with won't hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes."

She leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then let them try."

Ethan stared at her, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he turned away, staring out the window once more.

Lyra knew she was pushing him, testing the limits of their fragile truce, but she needed him to understand—she wasn't leaving. Not now. Not ever.

Midnight Crest Tower – War Room

The heavy doors to Ethan's private war room slammed shut behind them, sealing them inside with the low hum of computers and glowing monitors displaying detailed maps of the city. Logan was already inside, arms crossed, his expression grim.

"We need to talk," Logan said without preamble, his eyes flicking between Ethan and Lyra.

Ethan strode to the head of the table, rolling his shoulders like a wolf shaking off a fight. "What did you find?"

Logan tapped a few keys, and the monitors zoomed in on a location outside the city—an abandoned warehouse complex. "Westwood wasn't working alone. We traced his connections back to an underground syndicate that's been making quiet moves in our territory. Smuggling, weapons, and more."

Lyra leaned in, studying the screens. "And you think they're tied to the stolen funds?"

Logan nodded. "It's bigger than that. They're after something... or someone." His gaze lingered on Lyra for a beat too long.

Ethan caught it, his eyes narrowing. "Say it."

Logan exhaled, pressing a button to pull up a grainy security feed. "We intercepted a message sent from Westwood's estate before the raid. It mentioned her by name."

Lyra's blood ran cold. "Me?"

Ethan's entire body tensed. "What did it say?"

Logan hesitated, then read from the transcript. "'We have her. The Luna lives.'"

The room fell into stunned silence.

Lyra felt the blood drain from her face. They knew. Somehow, they knew who she really was.

Ethan's gaze snapped to her, his expression darkening with something fierce and possessive. "Who else knows about this?"

Logan shifted uncomfortably. "Just us. But if they're broadcasting it, others will know soon enough."

Ethan cursed under his breath and turned to Lyra. "You said no one knew."

"I was careful," she shot back, her voice shaking slightly. "I didn't expect this."

Ethan raked a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged predator. "This changes everything."

Lyra clenched her fists. "I can handle it."

Ethan stopped mid-stride, his gaze locking onto hers with lethal intent. "You can't fight ghosts from the past, Lyra. If they know what you are, they won't stop until they have you."

"Then let them come," she said, meeting his stare with defiance.

Ethan's jaw tightened. "No. We make the first move."

Lyra opened her mouth to argue, but the intensity in his gaze silenced her. He was in Alpha mode now—calculated, ruthless, and unwilling to take no for an answer.

"We're going to that warehouse," Ethan declared. "Tonight."

Warehouse Complex – Midnight

The air was thick with tension as Ethan's team moved silently through the abandoned warehouse district. Lyra stayed close to him, feeling the heat of his presence beside her, his movements fluid and precise as they weaved through the darkened corridors.

The scent of decay and rust clung to the air, but beneath it, Lyra could sense something more—something familiar.

Ethan's hand shot out, stopping her in her tracks. "Stay behind me," he ordered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lyra rolled her eyes but complied, watching as Ethan and Logan signaled to their men, creeping closer to the main storage area.

Through the cracked doors, they could see movement—several figures huddled around crates, whispering in hushed tones.

Ethan's lips curled into a snarl. "They're moving weapons."

Lyra's heart pounded as she caught a glimpse of a familiar face—Westwood's associate, the same man who had threatened her in the parking garage days earlier.

"That's him," she whispered to Ethan.

Ethan's expression darkened. "We take them down. No survivors."

Lyra swallowed hard, feeling the familiar thrill of adrenaline course through her veins. This was it.

With a silent signal, the team moved in, taking down the guards with swift, precise movements. Lyra followed closely behind, her body tensed for a fight.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, shattering the quiet.

Lyra spun, her heart leaping into her throat as she saw Ethan lunge at an attacker, taking him down with a brutal strike. She barely had time to react before another figure lunged at her from the shadows.

Instinct kicked in.

Lyra dodged, landing a swift kick to the man's ribs, sending him sprawling to the ground. She grabbed the gun from his grasp, turning it on him with shaking hands.

Ethan was beside her in an instant, his hand closing over hers. "I've got this," he murmured, his touch grounding her.

In the end, the fight was over in minutes. The remaining men lay incapacitated or fled, leaving behind crates of illegal weapons and documents that could unravel their entire operation.

Ethan stood over the fallen men, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with fury. He turned to Lyra, his expression unreadable.

"You did good," he said, his voice gruff.

Lyra nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. "You too."

Ethan stepped closer, his hand grazing her arm. "Stay with me, Lyra."

Her breath caught. "Always."

But deep down, she knew the worst was yet to come.