A Gift for the Three Alpha's

Chapter 4: Blood and Teeth

The great dining hall had been transformed overnight.

The massive table was now surrounded by hard-faced military men, their leather armor scarred from countless battles.

They smelled of blood and sweat and male violence. Lyra's stomach twisted as she recognized the insignia on their chests.

They were commanders from the occupation forces that had conquered her homeland.

Elena pushed her forward without warning, and Lyra stumbled into the room carrying a heavy tray of wine and bread. The men's eyes turned toward her like wolves spotting prey.

"So this is the breeder," one of them said, his voice thick with disdain. "Heard the Northern rebels sent her as a gift. Probably the only valuable thing that whole pathetic pack has left to offer."

Lyra's jaw clenched, but she kept her eyes down and began pouring wine into goblets.

Do not react. Do not give them anything, she told herself.

"The Northern Territories have always bred weak stock," another commander laughed. "Women with no spine, men with no teeth. It is a wonder they lasted as long as they did before we crushed them."

Her hands trembled slightly as she moved along the table.

These men had been there.

They had participated in the slaughter of her people. Some of them might have been there the night her family burned.

Darius was watching her with those cold dark eyes, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying her struggle to stay silent.

"The breeder should be grateful to serve such strong bloodlines," a scarred commander said. "Her children will be superior to whatever weak genetics ran through her pack."

Lyra's grip tightened on the wine pitcher. One more comment. Just one more and she would lose control.

She was so focused on the commanders that she did not see the servant girl blocking her path until it was too late.

Her foot caught on the girl's dress, and the wine pitcher fell from her hands. It hit the ground with a shattering crash, sending shards of ceramic and red wine across the black stone floor.

The room went silent.

"Clumsy," Darius said softly. He rose from his chair and walked toward her with measured steps. "An Omega who cannot even carry wine without breaking it. Perhaps the commanders are right. Perhaps you need more training."

Before she could react, his arm moved in a blur. The leather strap he pulled from his belt cracked against her back with brutal force. Pain exploded across her shoulders, and she gasped at the shock of it.

"That is one," Darius said coldly. "Try not to embarrass us again."

Lyra bit down on her tongue and forced herself to remain standing. She could feel blood trickling down her back beneath the thin servant dress.

The commanders were watching with obvious satisfaction, some of them grinning like it was entertainment.

"Your Highness," one of them said, his voice dripping with mockery, "perhaps the three of you are not capable of training her properly. I have broken many females in my time. I could take her off your hands. Show you how it is done."

The words hung in the air like poison.

Asher's chair scraped backward as he stood, his blue eyes blazing with fury.

His hand moved toward his sword, but he was not fast enough.

Kael moved like lightning. He kicked the chair from under the commander, sending the man crashing to the ground.

Before anyone could react, Kael had grabbed him by his armor and was dragging him across the stone floor on his knees, pulling him toward the head of the table where Darius stood waiting.

The commander was gasping and struggling, but Kael's grip was iron.

"You want to train our breeder?" Darius asked softly, drawing his blade. It caught the light from the fire, gleaming like liquid silver.

"Your Highness, I was only –" the commander started, but Darius cut him off.

"You were only suggesting that three Ironfang princes cannot control what belongs to them. That we are weak."

The commander's face had gone pale. "That is not what I meant –"

Darius moved with the same speed Kael had used. His blade flashed, and the commander's scream tore through the hall.

Blood sprayed across the stone as his ear fell to the ground, a wet slap that made Lyra's stomach heave.

She could not stay in the room anymore.

She could not watch neither could she breathe.

She ran.

Behind her, she heard the commander still screaming and Darius's cold voice continuing to speak as if nothing had happened.

She heard the other commanders laughing, celebrating the display of brutality.

But what she could not stop hearing was what she had caught in the middle of that conversation.

The words Darius had spoken to his generals when he thought no one was listening.

Underground tunnels. Resistance packs. A fake agreement.

"Once their people are safely inside the tunnels, we collapse them. Erase the entire pack in one strike. No one will ever know what happened to them."

Lyra made it to her small room and locked the door behind her, but her hands would not stop shaking.

They were planning g******e. Not just conquest, but the complete annihilation of entire packs. And the resistance was walking straight into the trap, using the tunnels that would become their tomb.

She had to warn them. She had to find a way to get a message out before it was too late.

The door to her room burst open without warning. Elena stood there, her face twisted with rage.

"You stupid girl," she hissed, grabbing Lyra by her hair and dragging her forward. "Did I not tell you not to bring attention to yourself? Did I not make it clear?"

"I dropped a dish. It was an accident."

"You made them all look at you. You made them see you." Elena's grip tightened painfully. "Now they are going to expect more entertainment from you. And Darius will expect better discipline."

She released Lyra with a shove that sent her stumbling backward.

"Your punishment for breaking that dish is not finished," Elena said coldly. "You will scrub the guards' restroom with a toothbrush. Every tile, every corner. If I find so much as a speck of dirt, you will be beaten."

Two guards appeared to escort Lyra to her fate. The guards' restroom was a filthy place that reeked of urine and sweat. She was given a single toothbrush and a bucket of cold water, then locked inside.

The guards came and went as she worked, their boots tracking more dirt across the floor she was cleaning.

Some of them made crude comments about her body, about what they would like to do to her. But when the head guard passed through, he gave the others a sharp look that made them fall silent.

"Leave her alone," he said, his voice rough. "She belongs to the princes."

He continued on his patrol, and Lyra breathed a sigh of relief. She went back to scrubbing, trying to ignore the ache in her back where Darius had lashed her.

She was so focused on her work that she did not notice when one guard came back. She did not realize until his shadow fell across the floor and his hands grabbed her from behind.

"Head guard is gone now," he said, his breath reeking of alcohol and meat. His hands were rough as they grabbed her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. "No one to stop us from having some fun."

Lyra tried to twist away, but he was stronger. She opened her mouth to scream for help, and his hand clamped down over her lips, nearly suffocating her.

Her scream came out muffled, desperate. She thrashed against him, her nails drawing blood from his arm, but he only laughed.

Then everything happened at once.

The guard's head separated from his shoulders in a spray of blood. His body went limp and fell away from her, hitting the ground with a wet thud. His head rolled across the tiles, leaving a red smear behind it.

Lyra screamed again, this time in terror.

When she looked up, she saw Asher standing there with his sword hanging at his side, the blade dark with blood.