The Lunar Queen Chapter 18

Lyric POV

The first thing I feel is pain—white-hot pain coursing through my entire body, so sharp it steals my breath before I can even think. I panic instantly, fear gripping me like a vice, tight and unforgiving, like it’s been waiting for me to wake up just to drag me back under.

I try to move. Bad idea, because the second I shift even a little, the pain spikes so hard it feels like my body is tearing itself open all over again.

“Easy, princess.”

I don’t know whose voice that is, but it’s deep and calming, somehow familiar, and the way it settles over me makes something in my chest loosen even while everything else hurts.

I don’t know where I am or how long it’s been, and that realization hits harder than the pain for a second.

Then I feel warmth wrap around my fingers, safe and familiar, like something steady in the middle of everything spinning out of control.

“Lyric,” another voice cracks, causing my chest to ache, that sound pulling at something deeper than the pain ever could, and I cling to that feeling like a lifeline.

“Fight,” I hear again, stronger this time, like it’s not just a whisper anymore.

My lashes flutter, everything spins, light bleeding through the darkness in harsh flashes that make my head throb, and the darkness is replaced by blinding light.

Cole POV

So, Winter told us that today is Lyric’s birthday, and she wanted to sing happy birthday to her, like saying it out loud might somehow pull her back to us.

She invited Dominic and me, and I’m struggling with what to wear, which is ridiculous considering she might not even wake up, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“She won’t be able to see you, idiot,” Zeus says, laughing at me.

“Hey, Cole, got a minute?” Dominic says, knocking on my room door.

“Come in,” I reply.

“So, I’m just going to say it—Winter is my mate,” he says quickly, and I just chuckle at him, because the way he says it tells me he’s been holding it in for a while.

“I know,” I say, buttoning my shirt.

“How?” he asks.

“When we walked into the hospital Wednesday night, you froze and wouldn’t take your eyes off her,” I explain.

“I’m not surprised—they’re best friends, basically sisters,” I add.

“She’s only 17, too,” he replies, sounding exasperated, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to figure out what to do with that.

“Join the club; at least your mate isn’t currently mated to someone else, and you can’t feel the bond but know it exists,” I say.

“That sounds like torture,” he comments.

“Nothing worse than this,” I reply, gesturing around us, because this—waiting, not knowing—is worse than anything.

After I get dressed, we head to the pack hospital.

When we arrive, Lyric’s brothers are there with Winter, and the room feels heavier than it should, like the air itself knows what’s at stake.

“Good morning, everyone,” I say as we enter the room, and Dominic does too.

“Good morning, Cole,” Hunter and Winter say.

One of the twins punches Hunter.

“Dude, did you just call the Alpha King by his first name? Are you insane?” he whispers, but since we’re wolves, everyone hears it.

I chuckle. “It’s okay; this isn’t official business. No formalities needed right now,” I say.

I walk over to Lyric’s bed and run my hand across her hair, the strands soft against my fingers, grounding me more than I expected.

I lean in and whisper very softly so others don’t hear,

“Happy birthday, my Queen,”

—and her whole body jerks.

Not subtle. Not small. A real reaction.

“Easy, princess,” I say softly, my voice dropping instinctively as I move closer without thinking.

Winter runs up and grabs her hand.

“Lyric,” she says, voice cracking.

Her eyes flutter repeatedly before those beautiful green eyes meet mine, unfocused at first, then locking in just enough to make something in my chest hit hard.

Lyric POV

Blue eyes stare back at me, too bright, too sharp, too much all at once, and it makes my chest tighten like my body doesn’t know how to handle him.

My breath comes out uneven, shallow, like I can’t quite pull in enough air, like every inhale has to fight its way through my chest.

The room tilts, edges blurring in and out while pain and something deeper twist together inside me.

I try to focus on him, on the warmth wrapped around my fingers, but nothing settles the way it should. Everything feels too loud, too overwhelming, like I’m being pushed past my limit.

My heart stutters hard.

No. Not again.

The pressure in my head builds fast, like something cracking behind my eyes, the sounds fading into a rushing hum.

“Lyric?” Winter’s voice reaches me, distant and panicked.

I try to answer, pushing for it, but when my lips part, nothing comes, and the frustration mixes with fear so fast it makes my chest ache.

The hands holding mine tighten, grounding me.

“Stay with me,” he says softly, urgency threading through it.

I want to. Goddess, I want to.

But everything starts slipping, light bleeding into shadow, my body giving out piece by piece.

I’m so tired.

The last thing I feel is that warmth, steady and protective, before the darkness pulls me under again.

Cole POV

She goes limp in my hands, and the shift is so sudden it knocks the air out of my lungs.

One second she’s looking at me, and the next her body slackens completely.

“Lyric!” Winter cries.

“Get the doctor,” I order immediately, my voice sharp enough that no one hesitates.

Zeus is losing it inside me, panic slamming hard, but I force control, locking everything down so it doesn’t show.

I press my fingers to her wrist, focusing, waiting—

There.

Her pulse. Weak, but there.

“She’s overwhelmed,” I say, grounding myself. “Her body isn’t ready.”

Winter clings to her, crying quietly.

“She heard us,” I add, softer, because I know she did—I felt it.

The doctor rushes in, checking vitals.

“She woke up too soon. Her body shut down again. It happens.”

I step back only when I have to, every instinct telling me not to let go.

I lean down one last time.

“Rest now, princess. We’ll be right here when you’re ready.”

And then—

I feel it.

That faint squeeze against my finger.

Small. Weak.

But real.

Not imagined. Not wishful thinking.

She’s still here.

Because that wasn’t random.

That wasn’t just her body reacting.

She knew I was there.

And next time… she might not let go.