The Alpha’s Eternal Mate

Chapter 17: Beneath the Masks



The music in the ballroom flowed like honey, a rich symphony of strings and whispered conversations. Lyra moved through the crowd with calculated grace, her crimson dress swirling around her ankles, every step measured, every glance intentional. The weight of the black lace mask on her face was a constant reminder of the dangerous game she was playing tonight.

Ethan walked beside her, his presence imposing, a dark shadow against the glittering crowd. He exuded control, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back—just enough to appear possessive, but not enough to betray the tension simmering beneath his composed exterior.

They had been at the gala for nearly an hour, mingling, watching, waiting. Every passing moment made Lyra's skin crawl, her instincts on high alert. She could feel the eyes on her—predatory, curious, watchful.

"Anything?" she whispered under her breath, eyes scanning the room.

Ethan's voice was low and controlled. "They're watching us closely, but no movement yet."

Lyra sipped her champagne, letting a slow smile grace her lips as she leaned closer to him, playing the role of the devoted companion. "What are they waiting for?"

Ethan's dark eyes flicked to her, his gaze smoldering. "They want to see what you'll do."

She smirked, brushing a hand lightly against his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath. "Then let's give them a show."

His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn't pull away. "Careful, Lyra."

Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Well, well, Alpha Graves."

Lyra turned to see Malcolm Westwood himself standing before them, a smirk on his lips and a predatory glint in his eyes. He was dressed impeccably, his mask covering only the upper half of his face, but there was no mistaking the arrogance that oozed from him.

Ethan's grip on her waist tightened subtly. "Westwood," he said coolly. "I didn't realize you'd be gracing us with your presence."

Westwood's eyes flicked to Lyra, his gaze lingering a second too long. "And who is this lovely creature?"

Lyra smiled, extending her hand with practiced charm. "Lyra."

Westwood took it, brushing a kiss over her knuckles, his lips lingering just enough to make Ethan tense beside her.

"A pleasure," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with interest.

Lyra withdrew her hand gracefully, stepping closer to Ethan as if seeking protection. "Likewise."

Westwood chuckled. "I hear you've been... asking questions, Alpha."

Ethan's eyes hardened. "I prefer to call it research."

Westwood's smirk deepened. "Curiosity can be dangerous. You should know that better than anyone."

Lyra's instincts flared at the underlying threat in his voice. She glanced at Ethan, noting the way his posture remained relaxed, yet his eyes burned with cold calculation.

"Knowledge is power," Ethan replied smoothly. "And I like to be powerful."

Westwood laughed, a low, humorless sound. "Careful, Graves. Not everyone plays by the same rules."

With a final lingering glance at Lyra, he turned and melted back into the crowd, leaving behind a trail of unease in his wake.

Lyra exhaled slowly. "Well, that was... interesting."

Ethan's hand slipped from her waist, his expression dark and unreadable. "We need to move."

Lyra followed him through the crowded ballroom, the golden chandeliers casting fractured light over the sea of elegantly dressed guests. They found a quieter corner, away from prying eyes.

"I don't trust him," Lyra said, keeping her voice low.

Ethan leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Neither do I."

She glanced up at him, their faces dangerously close. "Then what's our next move?"

Ethan's gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before he straightened. "We wait. He'll make a mistake."

Lyra's chest tightened at the proximity, at the way his voice affected her in ways she wasn't ready to admit. But before she could dwell on it, movement caught her eye.

A figure in a black suit moved purposefully through the crowd, eyes locked on them.

"Ethan," she murmured.

He followed her gaze. "I see him."

The man approached with quiet confidence, his steps unhurried. Lyra's heart pounded as he stopped in front of them, his eyes concealed behind a dark mask.

"Alpha Graves," the stranger greeted in a deep voice. "A pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Ethan's expression remained unreadable. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

The man smiled faintly. "No, but I know who you are. And more importantly... I know why you're here."

Lyra's hand instinctively moved closer to Ethan's side.

The stranger continued, his voice smooth. "You're looking for answers. I have them."

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you enlighten me, then?"

The man's smile didn't waver. "Not here. Too many eyes." He slipped a card into Ethan's hand and stepped back. "Midnight. The rooftop."

Before Ethan could respond, the stranger disappeared into the sea of guests, leaving them both standing there with more questions than answers.

Lyra glanced at the card in Ethan's hand. It was blank except for a single embossed wolf's head.

"This feels like a setup," she murmured.

Ethan's lips curled into a smirk. "It probably is."

Lyra sighed. "And we're still going, aren't we?"

Ethan's eyes darkened. "We don't have a choice."

Midnight – The Rooftop

The city stretched below them in an endless sea of lights, the air crisp and heavy with anticipation. Ethan and Lyra stood side by side on the rooftop, the hum of distant traffic filling the silence between them.

Lyra glanced at Ethan. "You trust this?"

"No," he said bluntly.

"Good," she whispered.

A shadow moved from the far side of the rooftop, and the man from earlier emerged, his movements confident but cautious.

"You came," he said, his eyes assessing them both.

Ethan's posture remained relaxed but ready. "Talk."

The man exhaled slowly. "You're looking in the wrong places, Alpha. Your enemies aren't who you think they are."

Lyra stepped forward. "Then who are they?"

The man's gaze lingered on her. "You should ask yourself that question, Luna."

Her blood ran cold.

Ethan's eyes turned murderous. "You have five seconds to explain yourself."

The man smiled faintly. "They're coming for her. And when they do... you won't be able to stop them."

A low growl rumbled in Ethan's chest, but before he could react, the stranger stepped back into the shadows and disappeared, leaving nothing but his cryptic warning behind.

Lyra's pulse thundered in her ears. "Ethan, we need to—"

"Get inside. Now." His voice was deadly calm, but she could feel the rage simmering beneath it.

As they rushed down from the rooftop, Lyra's mind swirled with questions.

Who were they?

And how much longer did she have before the past finally caught up to her?


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