Chapter 8
1267 Words
Amelia Hayes arrived at Lyric Industries earlier than most staff, determined to prove her first day wasn’t luck. The morning air was crisp, and the building glimmered under the rising sun like a silver monument. She clutched her notebook and badge while mentally preparing for another round of tasks.
But the moment she entered the executive floor, she sensed something different.
The atmosphere felt… heavier.
Not busy.
Not chaotic.
Just tense.
Like everyone was holding their breath.
She took her seat at her workstation outside Ethan’s office and logged in. She hadn’t even finished typing her password when the door to the restricted hallway opened sharply.
Ethan Lyric walked out.
He looked composed—suit perfect, hair neat, expression unreadable—but something underneath it was off. Yesterday, he’d seemed stressed. Today, it felt deeper. Like a storm building behind his eyes.
“Good morning, sir,” Amelia said politely.
He halted.
His gaze flicked to her with a strange intensity—brief, but there.
“Good morning, Miss Hayes.”
He didn’t enter his office. Instead, he glanced toward the security door on the opposite side of the corridor, the one Amelia had never seen used.
“I’ll be in the North Conference Room,” he said. “If anyone asks, direct them there.”
“Yes, sir.”
He disappeared down the hallway.
Amelia frowned. Yesterday, he had been under pressure. Today, he was hiding it.
---
Inside the North Conference Room
The room was dark when Ethan entered, lit only by a moon-symbol hologram hovering above the long table. As soon as he stepped inside, the hologram shimmered—activating the secure connection.
Seven silhouettes formed around the table.
The Silvercrest Council.
“Ethan Lyric,” the eldest voice rumbled. “You received our notice.”
“I did.”
Silence fell—cold and expectant.
“The Northern Pack requires stability,” another councilor said. “And stability requires an Alpha with a mate. Your deadline is close.”
Ethan kept his voice steady. “I’m aware of the deadline.”
“Awareness is not compliance,” the eldest replied sharply. “If you fail to choose someone, the leadership of your pack must be reassigned.”
A figure stepped from the shadows.
Marcus Lyric.
Of course.
“Ethan struggles because he’s… distracted,” Marcus said smoothly. “Running a business, handling pack affairs, juggling corporate responsibilities. I simply want what is best for the Lyric legacy.”
Ethan’s wolf growled beneath his skin.
“I am handling everything just fine.”
“Are you?” the Council asked. “Your father would have made this decision years ago.”
The mention of his father tightened something in Ethan’s chest.
The Council hologram flickered, ending the meeting abruptly.
But their message lingered:
Two months.
Choose a mate.
Or lose everything.
Ethan exhaled sharply.
His wolf clawed at him.
We’re running out of time.
---
An hour later, Amelia was sorting through departmental files when Uncle Marcus appeared in the corridor.
“Good morning, Miss Hayes,” he said in that too-smooth tone that made her spine stiffen.
“Good morning, sir.”
“You seem more comfortable today. Settling in well?”
“Yes, sir.”
He stepped closer—not touching her, but too close for comfort.
“Tell me… how is my nephew behaving?”
Amelia blinked. “Um… professionally?”
Marcus chuckled. “That’s not what I asked.”
She held her ground. “Mr. Lyric has been nothing but respectful.”
“Mmm. For now,” Marcus murmured. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”
Before she could respond, Ethan emerged from the conference hallway.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t bare fangs or shift—nothing dramatic.
But the moment he saw Marcus near her, something in his presence sharpened. His shoulders squared, his expression iced over, and the air in the corridor shifted like static.
“Marcus,” Ethan said flatly. “You’re blocking my employee.”
Marcus turned, smiling innocently. “Simply greeting her.”
“Your greetings aren’t needed.”
Marcus smirked. “Careful, nephew. People might begin to think you’re… protective.”
Ethan stepped closer—not aggressively, just firmly.
“I said leave.”
Marcus chuckled and walked away, unbothered.
But even after he disappeared down the elevator, the air still felt charged.
---
Ethan turned to Amelia.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, sir.”
His jaw tightened. “My uncle has a habit of overstepping. If he approaches you again unnecessarily, tell me.”
“That’s not necessary. He didn’t do anything—”
“Tell me,” Ethan repeated, quieter but stronger.
Amelia swallowed. “Okay.”
For a moment he said nothing.
Then something unexpected happened.
His eyes flickered.
Not with anger.
Not with stress.
With gold.
Gold—like a ring of burning light around the pupil.
Amelia blinked, stunned. “Are your eyes…?”
Ethan turned away a split second before the glow intensified.
He clenched his fists at his sides. His breathing changed—deeper, more controlled. Like someone restraining themselves.
“I’m fine,” he said. Too quickly.
He wasn’t.
And Amelia knew it.
But before she could say anything, he walked into his office and shut the door.
---
By afternoon, Amelia had delivered files, typed reports, organized three meetings, and briefed two department heads. It was busy, but she enjoyed the challenge.
What she didn’t enjoy were the whispers.
Staff in the hallway saying things like:
“Did you hear? The Council contacted him.”
“They’re pushing the deadline again.”
“If he doesn’t choose someone…”
She couldn’t make sense of it.
What council?
What deadline?
Choose who?
At one point she carried documents to the printing wing and passed by a group of senior managers.
“…the Northern Pack won’t accept any instability,” one whispered.
“Marcus is already preparing a challenge,” another murmured. “He wants the Alpha title.”
“…Ethan doesn’t even have a mate yet…”
Amelia stopped walking.
Mate?
As in… marriage?
She shook her head. None of this made sense. She must be misunderstanding.
Still, something was off.
Very off.
---
At the end of the day, Amelia packed her things and walked toward the elevators.
Ethan appeared, locking his office.
For once, he looked tired—physically tired.
“Leaving?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. I’ve completed everything for today.”
“Good work.”
She hesitated, then said, “Sir… is everything alright? With your uncle? And the Council? And—”
His steps stopped.
“Miss Hayes.” His voice softened but carried weight. “Some things discussed in this building are confidential. Not harmful to you. Just… not for you.”
She nodded slowly.
“I don’t want you worrying about anything you might overhear.”
“I understand.”
He pressed the elevator button.
As they waited, Amelia studied him discreetly.
His posture strong.
His jaw clenched.
And for the briefest moment—
His eyes flickered gold again.
Only for a heartbeat.
Then the elevator doors opened.
“Get home safe,” he said.
“You too, sir.”
They stepped in opposite directions.
---
But Nothing Was Safe Anymore
Late that night, when Ethan returned to his penthouse, he received another message from the Council.
The Lyric heir must decide.
Two months.
No extensions.
Ethan closed the message and looked out at the moon.
His wolf whispered:
She’s close to the truth.
And the truth is coming for both of you.
- Writer
