Page 63 of Growl Me, Maybe

Her magic flared in her fingertips—wild, hot, sparking against the cuffs like lightning seeking ground. The chaos inside her churned, responding to her emotions, building pressure against her restraints.

Ezra didn't notice. Or maybe he underestimated her. A fatal mistake that many had made before him.

"Because you're a coward," she whispered, the words hanging between them like a challenge.

He stepped closer, drawn by her defiance or perhaps by the magic crackling beneath her skin.

She let him, her eyes never leaving his, gathering her strength like a storm cloud collecting charge.

"You took me because you knew he wouldn't let me go. You wanted to provoke him. Test him. You wanted to make me a weapon—or a wedge." Her voice grew stronger with each word, her certainty building like the pressure before a spell breaks.

He raised an eyebrow, amused by her analysis but not denying it.

She smiled, slow and dangerous, the kind of smile that had once made an entire coven back away. "But I'm not some lost little witch waiting for rescue. Iamchaos. And you just pissed me off."

Ezra moved to grab her arm and the cuffssnapped.

Magic erupted from the broken restraints like water from a shattered dam. Not shaped, not clean—but raw, pulsing from her core like a scream made of thunder and moonfire. The force knocked Ezra back against the wall, his body hitting stone with a satisfying thud. The runes on the door cracked, ancient symbols splitting like ice in spring. The torches flared blue, casting the room in an eerie, otherworldly light.

Lyra stood slowly, hands trembling with power that had too long been contained. Her silver-streaked curls danced around her face, responding to currents of magic rather than air.

"You really should've listened when they told you not to mess with Ravenshade blood," she said, voice thick with fury and the intoxicating rush of freedom.

Ezra groaned, dragging himself up, eyes wide with the first genuine fear she'd seen in them. His perfect composure shattered like the cuffs that had bound her.

The air around Lyra shimmered, pulsed, bent inward as reality itself responded to her unleashed power. Tiny motes of golden light swirled around her, manifestations of chaos magic seeking direction.

Her hair lifted from her shoulders as if she stood in a wind that touched nothing else. Her boots cracked stone as she stepped forward, leaving faint, glowing footprints in her wake.

Ezra lifted a hand, perhaps to cast or to plead, but she slapped it down with a flick of her wrist. "I'mdoneplaying quiet."

She stormed toward the door and then stopped. Because something shifted. Somethingfamiliar.

The bond flared inside her, pure and sharp andreal.

Jace.

She felt him,near, too near to be ignored.

She smiled, slow and wicked.

“You’re screwed now,” she whispered.

Behind her, the door burst open.

One of Ezra’s men stumbled in, panic in his eyes.

“Alpha! We’ve got a breach! Shifters—lots of them. It’s Moonfang.”

Ezra’s face paled.

Lyra laughed.

And chaos kissed the air.

32

JACE

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