Breed Me Cursed Alpha (Lyra and Ronan) novel Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Lyra

The room feels like it’s closing in on me.

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Not with noise or shouting, but with something worse. Expectation. Every smile that lands on me is too careful. Every question is wrapped in softness that doesn’t belong to me. I feel it pressing against my ribs, squeezing, making it harder to draw a full breath.

They keep looking at me.

At my stomach.

At the space Ronan occupied a few minutes ago.

At the space between us.

I can’t sit there another second.

I push back from the table, the scrape of my chair loud in the sudden hush that follows. A few heads turn. A few conversations falter. My skin prickles with awareness.

“Excuse me,” I say, forcing the words past my tight throat.

No one argues. No one stops me. They just watch as I stand and move away from the table, their gazes following me like invisible hands.

I walk faster as soon as I reach the doors. The warmth of the dining hall gives way to the cooler, echoing corridors of the fortress. The quiet here is heavier, pressing in on all sides. My footsteps sound too loud against the stone.

I don’t slow.

I take the stairs two at a time, skirts gathered in my hands as I climb. My lungs burn, but I welcome it. It gives me something to focus on that isn’t the knot in my chest or the image of Ronan walking out of that room with a warrior at his side.

Rogues.

The word keeps flashing through my mind like a warning.

I reach my floor and nearly stumble as I take the last step too fast. I grab the railing, steady myself, then hurry down the hallway toward my room.

The door closes behind me with a soft click that sounds far 100 final.

too

Silence.

I stand there for a moment, just breathing, my heart still racing. The room feels empty, stripped of the

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Chapter 47

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warmth Ronan left behind. His scent lingers faintly, a reminder that only makes my chest ache more.

Is he safe?

The question won’t leave me alone. I picture him striding into danger, eyes hard, jaw set, Cain snarling beneath his skin. The thought makes my stomach twist.

I can’t just sit here.

I start pacing, crossing the room and back again. My hands fidget uselessly at my sides. I need something. Anything to keep my mind from spiraling.

A book. A movie. Something normal.

I scan the room, hopeful, but it’s bare. No shelves lined with novels. No little stack of forgotten papers. Just clean stone, neatly arranged furniture, and nothing that feels like mine.

I check the small table near the window. Nothing but a vase of pale flowers.

The desk. I rush to it, tugging open the top drawer.

Empty.

The second.

Empty.

The third.

Nothing.

I let out a short, frustrated breath. “Of course.”

This place was never meant for distractions. It was built for survival, not comfort.

My gaze drifts to the door.

Ronan’s office is somewhere down the hall.

He’d have books. He has to. Records, at least. Files. Something I can look through and pretend my life isn’t hanging on a curse and a goddess and a pack that wants me to give them a miracle.

The thought of his office makes my stomach flutter with nerves, but it’s better than sitting here alone with my fears.

I grab my cardigan and slip out into the corridor.

The walk feels longer than it should. Every shadow seems to stretch and twist, every sound echoing too loud. I keep expecting someone to appear, to ask what I’m doing, but the halls remain empty.

The air shimmers ahead of me.

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Chapter 47

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At first I think it’s just the light bending strangely around one of the torches, but then the shape sharpens. A girl stands in the middle of the corridor, half-solid, half-mist, her auburn hair drifting like it’s underwater.

“Emma,” I breathe.

“Luna,” She smiles, soft and sad. “You look like you’re about to unravel.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “I feel like it.”

She steps closer, her boots barely making a sound against the stone. “They’re all buzzing, you know. The whole pack. They think something happened last night.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “It didn’t.”

“I know.” Her gaze is steady, too knowing. “You didn’t sleep with him.”

I stiffen. “How-”

“Ghost perks.” One corner of her mouth lifts. “I won’t tell anyone. Uncle Ronan would lose his mind if they found out, and I don’t feel like getting on his bad side. Even dead, that man is terrifying.”

A weak smile tugs at my lips despite everything. “Thank you.”

She studies me for a moment. “You’re scared for him.”

“Of course I am,” I say, the words tumbling out. “Rogues at the border, the elders circling like vultures, his own wolf barely under control… I hate just sitting here while he walks into danger.”

Emma’s expression softens. “I’m going to keep an eye on him.”

My head snaps up. “You are?”

She nods. “I can move faster than any living wolf. Walls don’t stop me. Neither does blood.” A flicker of something dark crosses her face. “I’ve already lost enough to this curse. I’m not letting it take him too if I can help it.”

“Then let me come with you.” The words are out before I can stop them. “Please. I don’t want to be useless.”

She reaches out, her hand passing through my arm in a cold, tingling brush. “You’re not useless. You’re just… solid,”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

“It means if things go wrong, if claws come out and blood spills, you could die. I wouldn’t. Not really.” Her eyes drop to her own faintly translucent fingers. “I’m not solid enough to be killed anymore. You are.”

The truth of it hits me hard. “I don’t care.”

“I do,” she says gently. “And so does Uncle Ronan. He’d tear the whole pack apart if you got hurt because of

me.”

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Chapter 47

Silence stretches between us, heavy and aching.

“So what do I do?” I whisper.

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“Keep yourself safe,” Emma replies. “Find something to keep you busy. Don’t go looking for trouble.”

I huff a bitter laugh. “That’s never been my strong suit.”

She smiles again, sad and warm. “I’ll come back if I learn anything. I promise.”

Then she steps back, already beginning to fade. “Try not to worry too much, Aunt Lyra.”

“I’ll try,” I say, even though we both know it’s a lie.

Emma turns down a side corridor, her form thinning into mist until she’s gone.

And the halls feel emptier than before.

I start walking again.

Finally, I reach his office.

The heavy wooden door stands slightly ajar.

That’s strange.

I hesitate, my hand hovering over the handle. Ronan is meticulous. He doesn’t leave things open. Not like this.

A prickle of unease crawls up my spine.

“Ronan?” I call softly.

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