Page 77 of Her Soul to Own

Harper’s eyes bat with something darker, something I can’t place. “We don’t get to walk away from this.”

I freeze for a moment, my pulse picking up.

Something about the way she said that… it’s like a warning. Like they’re not just playing with fire. They’re starting a damn blaze.

And Lyra is the spark.

I step back, carefully retracing my steps, staying hidden, staying far enough away. I need to see where they go from here, what their next move is. They think they’re alone, but they’re not. And they don’t even know how much they’re about to be exposed.

Harper turns her head for just a second, her eyes scanning the surroundings before she walks back toward the door. Declanfollows, his footsteps heavier now, like he knows he’s done whatever it was he needed to do.

I let them leave. Because what else can I do right now? Torture them to get the truth?Yeah, that’ll get me fired in a minute. Fuck, I hate these trust fund babies.

But I’m not done. Not by a long shot. I’ll follow them wherever they go.

Chapter 17 – Lyra – The Fall of Lyra Vane

I sit on the edge of my bed, my phone screen lighting up as I scroll through the endless stream of notifications. My fingers swipe over the pictures from the charity gala last night—gorgeous shots and perfectly staged moments that look like they belong in a glossy magazine. It’s the kind of thing I’m used to, the kind of thing that makes the whole world want a piece of me. I used to thrive on this. I used to feel like I owned it.

But today’s different.

I run my thumb over the photos again. The shots of me with Harper and the others in the crowd, perfectly composed, my smile poised like I’m the queen of everything. I’d gotten so many likes and comments already. The brand deals are rolling in—one for a skincare line and another for a high-end clothing line that I’ll get paid handsomely for just to be seen wearing their shit for a few hours. My fingers dance across the screen, answering the easy messages and the sponsors I know are just here for my name and my image.

I should be thrilled, right?

But the phone feels heavier in my hands with each new message. I can’t escape the gnawing feeling that something’s off. It’s the restlessness in my chest that’s been there since last night, like the entire fucking world has been thrown out of balance. But I’m not going to let it get to me. Not now. I need this. I need to focus.

There’s a soft knock at the door.

I don’t have to ask who it is. That knock is familiar—controlled, confident, and just on the edge of impatient. Not many people come to my door these days. No one but him.

Silas.

I hesitate, my thumb hovering over a reply to a message from a brand manager in LA. Another event. Another red carpet. Another chance to pretend I’m not unraveling inside the couture. I’ve been getting more of those lately. The gala stirred up the right kind of buzz—polished mayhem dressed in diamonds. Even with the rumors, the whispers, and the carefully constructed speculation… they still want me. Maybe even more than before.

That’s the power of a good publicist.

That’s what I’m worth now, even with the cracks in my perfect little world.

“Lyra.” His voice slips through the door, low and even. Too steady. “You’re not answering your messages.”

I sigh and toss the phone on the bed, already regretting it as I cross the room. I should ignore him. Iwantto ignore him. But I also know myself, and I’m not that strong tonight.

The door swings open. And there he is.

Tall and composed. His frame fills the doorway like it was built to fit there, dressed down in dark jeans and a fitted black tee that clings a little too well. His eyes sweep over me, pausing just long enough to make my skin prickle. But it’s not lust that throws me. It’s the way he looks at me like heseessomething beneath the surface that I’m working so hard to hide.

He steps in without waiting for permission, his presence filling the room like it always does, quiet, controlled, and impossible to ignore. He pauses just a few steps in, his eyes scanning me not with suspicion but something gentler. Steadier.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice lower now, softened at the edges.

“I’m fine,” I say, and for once, I don’t have to fake it. “Actually… I’ve just been busy.”

His brow lifts slightly. “You haven’t left your room all day.”

I shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You wouldn’t believe how many DMs I’ve gotten since the gala. Brand offers. Event invites. People I haven’t heard from inyearssuddenly remember I exist.” I shake my head, half amused, half exasperated. “It’s been a circus, but not the bad kind for once.”

His eyes stay on me for a beat longer, like he’s not just hearing the words but measuring the way I say them. The smile. The ease.

---