Lyra had conceded one request: Ronan was allowed to spend an afternoon with Leo at a large, neutral public park near Aura Dynamics. This was his final, silent trial. Lyra watched from a discreet distance, her security team invisible among the trees, her Crimson Wolf restless beneath her skin.
Ronan wasn't wearing a suit. He was dressed in simple casual clothes, his immense strength coiled but relaxed. He wasn't demanding anything; he was simply there. He was teaching Leo to skip rocks across the pond, his deep voice soft, his attention absolute.
"You have to look where the wind is going, buddy," Ronan coached, kneeling beside the small boy.
Leo threw a stone. It plopped instantly. He frowned. "Mister, the wind is too fast."
"Then we wait for the lull," Ronan replied, patiently showing him how to watch the ripples.
It was a picture of devastating normality—the life Ronan had thrown away.
Suddenly, Lyra's internal warning system shrieked. It wasn't the Pack sensors; it was the raw, primal energy of the Ancient Bloodline.
A shadow fell over the park.
From the surrounding woods, Elder Valerius and two other Elders appeared, but they were no longer old men. They were channeling a massive, corruptive ritual, their eyes glowing with unnatural blue-white light. They had merged their wills, attempting to siphon the remaining Kaelen power and seize the ultimate prize: the Shadow Mark.
"Lyra Thorne!" Valerius shrieked, his voice distorted by the raw magic. "You may control the Alpha's bank accounts, but you will not control our destiny! The boy's power belongs to the Pack!"
They were far away, too far for Ronan to reach, but they unleashed a devastating bolt of pure, corrosive magical energy, directed straight at Leo's chest.
"Leo!" Ronan screamed.
Lyra reacted instantly, throwing off her human disguise. The air around her exploded with the Crimson Fire , drawing the attention of every panicked human in the vicinity. She shifted, not fully into a wolf, but into a breathtaking, powerful hybrid state—a terrifying figure wreathed in red magic, the true Crimson Matriarch.
"You touch my son, and I burn your ancestry from the earth!" Lyra roared, her voice a sonic weapon.
She tried to intercept the magical blast, but the Elders' combined power was too great, too focused on the Shadow Mark. The corrosive energy tore through her defensive shield.
Simultaneously, Ronan made his final, critical sacrifice.
He didn't shift; he threw himself over Leo, taking the full, crushing force of the magical bolt directly into his back. The pain was immense, not just physical, but soul-deep—the energy designed to sterilize the Kaelen bloodline tore into his spine.
Ronan collapsed, shielding Leo with his own body, his breath leaving him in a ragged wheeze. "Run, Lyra... get him out!"
Lyra saw the selfless, devastating sacrifice. The Alpha who once fled from weakness was now willingly absorbing lethal trauma to protect the family he abandoned.
A single tear of fierce, absolute love and terror streamed down her face. It was the only acknowledgement she would ever give him.
Her mercy was gone. Her love, for this brief, terrifying moment, was absolute.
"The time for your reckoning is over," Lyra whispered, her voice tightening with the finality of her decision.
She didn't just fight the Elders; she consumed their power. The Crimson Fire surrounding Lyra didn't just repel the attack; it reached out, connecting with the corrupted magic of the Elders' ritual. She was using the Ancient Bloodline to draw their own power into herself, the ultimate act of magical dominance.
The crimson energy surged, enveloping the entire area. Lyra stood in the eye of the storm, radiating a thousand suns of power. The attack collapsed, and the three Elders—Valerius at the forefront—screamed as their ancient wolf-power was violently and permanently ripped from their bodies. They were reduced to withered, harmless human shells, utterly drained.
Lyra lowered her hands. The Crimson Fire receded, leaving her standing over the defeated figures. She was the victor. She was the absolute power.
She immediately rushed to Ronan, kneeling beside his unmoving body. Leo, whimpering but unharmed, crawled out from beneath his father.
"Ronan, look at me!" Lyra commanded, cradling his head.
Ronan tried to smile, his lips pale. "Did... did he skip the stone?"
"He's safe. You saved him," Lyra whispered, the admission of his worth a profound, healing balm.
She looked at her son. Leo, seeing the man who had taught him how to skip rocks injured, did something extraordinary. He placed his small hand on his father's wound. The Shadow Mark on his chest pulsed, and a gentle wave of healing crimson light flowed from him, bathing Ronan's broken body.
The pain didn't vanish, but the corrupting magic was neutralized.
Lyra realized the truth: the Crimson Bloodline wasn't just hers, and it wasn't just Leo's. It was the fusion of them all.
She looked at the defeated Elders, then down at the man who had sacrificed his life for his son. She knew what she had to do. The power, the Pack, the love—it was all hers to define.
"Damon! Call the press conference!" Lyra ordered, her voice ringing with the authority of the true ruler. "We are going to the Kaelen Tower. I am not an Alpha's mate, and I am not a CEO. I am the Crimson Matriarch."