CHAPTER 5
1414 Words
Lyra’s POV
The dining room was ridiculous—a table that could seat twenty, crystal glasses that caught the light like diamonds, plates with gold edges. I sat between Iris and an empty chair, feeling like an imposter in my cheap dress.
Marcus sat at the head of the table, looking like a king. Caspian and Orion sat across from us, their hatred burning holes through my skin. They hadn't said a word to me since their outburst, but their eyes said everything.
You don't belong here. You're trash. We'll make you pay.
"The other boys will be joining us shortly," Marcus said, pouring wine like this was normal, like his sons weren't plotting murder with their eyes.
Other boys? How many sons did this man have?
The door opened and two more men walked in. Identical. Twins. Both tall, both built like they spent their lives in a gym, both looking at me like I was something they'd scraped off their shoe.
My stomach dropped to the floor.
The first twin was Silas. The CEO. The man who'd rejected me this morning.
No. No, no, no.
His eyes met mine and something flashed in them—recognition, surprise, then cold satisfaction. Like finding out I was his new stepsister was the best joke he'd heard all year.
"Lyra." His voice was smooth, mocking. "What a... pleasant surprise."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening.
The other twin—identical face but different energy, looser, crueler—dropped into the chair beside me. Too close. His shoulder brushed mine and I flinched.
"I'm Rowan." He smiled, but it was all teeth. "Silas's better-looking half. Welcome to the family."
The way he said family made it sound like a curse.
Iris's hand found mine under the table, squeezing tight. Her nails dug into my palm. Play along, the squeeze said. Please just play along.
"Thank you," I managed, my voice barely steady.
Dinner was served by silent staff who moved like ghosts. The food looked expensive and tasted like ash in my mouth.
"So, Lyra." Rowan turned to me, his smile sharp as broken glass. "Iris tells us you've been living on your own. What do you do for work?"
The question was a trap. I could feel everyone's eyes on me.
"I was between jobs," I said carefully.
"Between jobs." He laughed. "For how long?"
"Rowan." Marcus's voice held warning.
"What? I'm just getting to know my new sister." Rowan leaned closer, his breath hot on my neck. "We're family now. We should know everything about each other, right?"
Across the table, Silas watched with cold, calculating eyes. He knew. He knew exactly where I'd been working, what I'd been doing. One word from him would destroy me.
"I was working in hospitality," I said, the lie bitter on my tongue.
"Hospitality." Rowan drew the word out. "That's... vague. What kind of hospitality?"
"The kind that paid my bills."
His eyes flashed with something dark. "Defensive. Interesting. What are you hiding, little sister?"
I hate you, I thought, staring at my plate. I hate all of you.
"Leave her alone, Rowan." Caspian's voice cut across the table. Not defending me—his tone made that clear. Just tired of Rowan's game. "We all know why they're really here."
Iris's hand tightened on mine, shaking now.
"And why is that, Caspian?" Marcus's voice went cold, dangerous.
"Money. Power. A meal ticket." Caspian set down his fork with careful precision. "Mom's barely cold in the ground and you replace her with the first woman who batted her eyes at you."
"That's enough." Marcus's power filled the room, pressing down on all of us. Alpha command. It made my wolf whimper and try to submit.
But Caspian didn't back down. "Is it? Because from where I'm sitting, this is just beginning. She'll bleed you dry, and when she's done, her daughter will pick the bones clean."
Iris made a small, wounded sound beside me.
"How dare you." My voice came out low, shaking with rage I couldn't contain. "You don't know anything about us."
"Don't I?" Caspian's smile was cruel. "I know your type. Desperate. Willing to do anything for a comfortable life. I bet you were thrilled when mommy found herself a rich, grieving Alpha to manipulate."
I stood so fast my chair scraped back. "You pretentious asshole. You sit here in your mansion, drowning in money you didn't earn, and judge people you don't know. Must be nice, looking down on everyone from your tower of privilege."
"Lyra—" Iris tried to pull me back down.
"No." I yanked my hand free. "I'm done being judged by men who've never struggled a day in their lives."
"Oh, this is rich." Rowan laughed, cruel and delighted. "She's got fire. Silas, didn't you mention interviewing someone today? Someone who screamed at you about privilege?"
Every eye turned to Silas.
He took a slow sip of wine, his gray eyes locked on mine. "I did. A very... passionate young woman. Completely unsuitable for professional employment."
The humiliation was a knife twisting in my gut.
"What a small world," Rowan purred. "So our new sister is not only unemployed, she's unemployable. This just gets better and better."
I wanted to throw my wine in his face. Wanted to scream, to run, to hurt someone the way they were hurting me.
The door opened again.
"Sorry I'm late." The voice froze my blood. "Got held up at the—"
Raphael stopped dead in the doorway. His eyes found mine across the room and the air left my lungs in a rush.
No. Please, no.
He looked exactly the same—wild dark hair, storm-colored eyes, that barely-leashed energy that had called to something broken in me. He was in a suit now, cleaned up, sober. But I could still feel his hands on my skin, still smell the whiskey and leather, still remember the desperate way we'd moved together in his dark apartment.
My wine glass hit my lips and I drank too fast, choking, coughing, eyes watering.
"Lyra, are you alright?" Iris patted my back, concerned.
I couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't look away from Raphael.
He recovered first, his face going blank, empty. He walked to the table and sat down next to Caspian like nothing had happened. Like I was a stranger. Like he hadn't been inside me three nights ago.
"Raphael, this is Iris and her daughter Lyra." Marcus gestured to us. "Your new family."
Family. The word hit me like a fist to the gut.
Raphael was Marcus's son. Which meant... which meant he was now my stepbrother.
And if Raphael was here, if he was part of this pack, then—
"Jeremy's running late too," Marcus continued, checking his phone. "He texted. Should be here in ten minutes."
The room tilted. My vision blurred at the edges.
Jeremy. Oh god, Jeremy.
The man who'd claimed me, who'd whispered mine against my skin, who'd looked at me like he owned every breath I took. The man whose brother I'd slept with in a desperate, drunken mistake.
They were both Marcus's sons. Both my new stepbrothers.
I'd slept with two men who were now my family.
The shame, the horror, the impossible twisted nightmare of it crashed over me in waves. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
"Nice to meet you." Raphael's voice was flat, bored. He didn't look at me. Not once.
The dismissal hurt worse than it should have.
Fine, I thought, fury and hurt warring in my chest. Two can play this game.
"Nice to meet you too," I said, my voice steady despite the way my hands shook, despite the way my world was crumbling to ash around me.
Across the table, I caught him staring. His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His knuckles were white around his fork. But when I met his eyes, he looked away, his face a mask of indifference.
We ate in tense silence, the only sounds the clink of silverware and Rowan's occasional snort of amusement. Every second felt like an eternity. Every breath was an effort.
Jeremy was coming. Jeremy would walk through that door any minute and see me sitting here, and everything would explode.
"So, Lyra." Silas finally spoke, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Since you'll be living here, we should establish some ground rules."
I met his cold gaze. "Such as?"
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