---- Chapter 4 The three of us sat facing each other in the coffee shop, the air thick with tension. River kept his head down, his fingers twisting the straps of his backpack-a nervous habit of his. He couldn't bring himself to look at me. Eric's gaze swept over my face, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Lyra. You look... like you're doing well for yourself since leaving me." I fought to suppress the fear my wolf felt at his scent. Then I met his golden wolf eyes directly. "Yeah, life is pretty good after leaving you. What, you want to know the secret?" His shoulders slumped slightly. "Lyra... 1 was wrong before. For River's sake, can't you forgive me? River misses you. He needs you right now." "We severed the bond, Eric." My voice was calm. "Do I need to remind you? You ---- signed the papers yourself. You have full custody of River. I have nothing to do with either of you anymore. " A wave of exhaustion washed over me. Ihad to dig my nails into my palms to hold back the bitter ache in my wolf. "You can't sever blood ties!" Eric stared at me in disbelief, the gold in his eyes deepening. "You're his mother. How can you be so heartless?" "T thought we had an understanding, Eric." I felt my heart turn to ash. "We were never meant to " be bound in the first place. Stop interfering in my life. I stood to leave, but a powerful grip clamped down on my wrist. I stumbled, then turned back calmly. Eric's fingers were like iron. "Lyra!" ---- My wolf roared, and I ripped my arm from his forceful touch, shaking it off like it was something filthy. Then I walked out of that suffocating coffee shop without looking back. I didn't dare turn around, didn't dare see the expression on River's face. In that brief glance, I'd seen how shockingly thin my cub was. The sharp outline of his shoulder blades was visible even through his thin shirt. His gauntness was a needle, stabbing unexpectedly into the deepest part of my heart. Suddenly, I remembered a past I had tried so hard to forget. When River was first born, he was so pink and perfect, with a sweet, milky scent. His little face was round and chubby, his eyes dark and bright, as if they held the stars. ---- When he was learning to walk, he'd toddle unsteadily into my arms, rubbing his soft cheek against my neck, chasing me with a tiny voice, "Mama... Mama, hold..." That dependent sound was once the most beautiful song in the world. When did it all change? It was every time Eric mocked me in front of River. It was every time he forcefully interfered with my affection for River, my every attempt to care. He accused me of "spoiling River," of "not knowing the rules," insisting on shaping River into the cold mold he'd designed. He should be satisfied with his work now.