Moonlit vow

The air inside the ballroom was thick, almost suffocating, as if the weight of old secrets had slipped into the space between laughter and clinking champagne flutes. Lyra Blackwood's fingers trembled around her glass, though she held it firmly, refusing to betray the fury simmering beneath her calm exterior. She smiled tightly, her eyes scanning the crowd, picking out familiar faces, whispers in their gazes. Tonight, they were celebrating her engagement, a promising union of power and wealth. The life she'd been promised, carefully crafted by generations of Blackwoods before her.

Yet something felt wrong. There was a coiled tension in the room that refused to release, like an animal waiting to pounce. She tightened her grip on her glass as her gaze landed on Finn. His easy smile and familiar laugh reached her, the man she'd trusted, loved. But tonight, his face seemed like a mask, one she could no longer read.

"Congratulations, Lyra," purred a voice beside her. She turned, meeting the eyes of her best friend, Sienna. Her silken red dress clung to her frame like sin, a smile curving on her lips with a softness that felt too rehearsed.

"Thank you, Sienna." Lyra's voice was low, her words clipped as she met her friend's gaze. "It means a lot to have you here tonight."

Sienna's fingers brushed over Lyra's shoulder, a touch that once might have felt reassuring. Now, it felt like the brush of a dagger. "We'll toast to you and Finn, then. A perfect match." Her smile tightened, eyes gleaming with something that Lyra couldn't quite place.

Lyra let her gaze drift back to Finn, her fiancé. The man she thought she knew. But the way Sienna's eyes lingered on him, as though he were hers to claim, made Lyra's heart thud with something uncomfortably close to suspicion. She'd heard rumors, whispers of something that didn't add up. Yet she'd brushed them aside, desperate to believe in a future without shadows, without doubts.

Finn looked up, catching her gaze across the room, his smile widening in that way that used to ease her. But tonight, it did nothing. She felt like an outsider in her own life, a puppet dancing on strings someone else controlled. And then he turned, leaning in to whisper something in Sienna's ear, and her friend's laugh floated across the room, brittle and mocking.

Lyra's chest tightened. She felt the first crack. Her world, this future they'd all crafted around her, felt like glass about to shatter.

"Excuse me," she murmured, slipping away from Sienna's touch. Her steps carried her out of the ballroom, the din of music and laughter fading into a distant hum as she found herself alone in a shadowed hallway.

She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as she drew in a shaky breath. She was letting her mind play tricks on her, she told herself. There was no way-no way-she could be seeing what she thought she was seeing. Finn loved her. He had proposed. They had a future, one that promised security, strength, and everything her family expected.

But then there it was again, that feeling of wrongness slithering through her.

A soft voice broke her thoughts. "Trouble in paradise?"

Her eyes flew open, and there stood a man, lounging against the wall opposite her. Dark-haired, his suit sharp, tailored, but there was an edge to him that felt completely out of place amidst the polished glamor of the ballroom.

"Do I know you?" Lyra's voice was cold, guarded, but he merely smirked, an unsettling glint in his eyes.

"No, but I know you," he replied, his voice smooth as silk yet with a dark undertone. He took a step closer, and she felt an odd rush of... recognition? The air around him seemed to shift, electric, magnetic, drawing her in despite herself.

"You're Lyra Blackwood," he continued, as if testing her name on his tongue. "The heiress everyone whispers about. The one they say is finally getting her happily ever after."

His gaze met hers, unyielding, piercing through the mask she'd carefully crafted. She felt bare, exposed. "And you are?" she asked, fighting to keep her tone steady.

"Just a friend," he replied, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. "Or maybe more of an unexpected guest."

She crossed her arms, unwilling to be toyed with by some arrogant stranger. "Do you have a name, friend?"

"Damien." His voice was a soft murmur, yet it resonated, curling around her like smoke. "Damien Silverclaw."

The name made her pause. Everyone knew of the Silverclaw family-a name steeped in mystery, whispered in the kind of stories no one wanted to believe. And here he was, standing before her, a living legend cloaked in shadows.

"What are you doing here, Damien?" Her words were bold, but her pulse betrayed her, beating wild and fast.

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving hers. "Maybe I was just curious. About you, about tonight... the way you're standing here, away from your own engagement party." His voice lowered, a dark edge creeping into it. "It makes one wonder, doesn't it? If there's something you're running from."

Lyra felt her breath hitch, her defenses wavering. He was close now, too close, his scent filling her senses-woodsy, earthy, wild. She took a step back, but his gaze held her, unrelenting.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her words were barely a whisper.

"Don't you?" He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "I think you do, Lyra. I think you're beginning to see that not everyone around you is who they seem."

She flinched, his words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. Before she could respond, he pulled back, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Enjoy your night," he murmured, stepping away, his eyes lingering on hers for a heartbeat longer than necessary. And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the shadows, the weight of his words pressing on her like a curse.

As she re-entered the ballroom, she caught sight of Finn and Sienna again, standing too close, their heads tilted together, whispering. Her stomach twisted painfully, the echoes of Damien's words gnawing at her mind.

Steeling herself, she walked toward them, her heart pounding. "Finn, can I speak with you?"

Finn looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he nodded. "Of course. Sienna, excuse us?"

Sienna's gaze lingered on Lyra, her smile almost pitying, before she melted back into the crowd.

"What's wrong, Lyra?" Finn asked as they stepped into a quieter corner. His tone was soft, the kind of voice he used when he was humoring her, and it made her skin crawl.

"What's going on between you and Sienna?" she asked bluntly, her voice low.

Finn's eyes widened. "What? Lyra, that's-"

"Don't lie to me." Her voice was firmer than she felt, her body trembling with barely-contained rage. "I've seen the way you look at each other, the way she-"

"You're being paranoid," he interrupted, his voice laced with irritation. "Sienna's been my friend as long as she's been yours. Don't start inventing things."

"Inventing things?" She laughed bitterly. "I'm not blind, Finn. I know when something isn't right."

His jaw tightened, a flash of anger in his eyes. "This is why I didn't want to do this tonight," he muttered under his breath.

Lyra's blood went cold. "What do you mean, you didn't want to do this?"

Finn's gaze met hers, hard, unyielding. "Maybe it's you, Lyra. Maybe you're the problem. Always suspicious, always assuming the worst."

Her heart felt as though it was being torn in two. The man standing before her wasn't the man she thought she knew. She'd seen glimpses of this before, hints of a cruelty that had seemed so out of character. But now, with Damien's words echoing in her mind, it all came crashing down.

"You don't love me," she whispered, the realization hitting her with brutal clarity.

Finn said nothing, his silence louder than any confession. And then, as if in slow motion, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone in a room full of strangers, her world fracturing around her.