Chapter 131 The Usurper
The sun was high in the sky by the time the motorcycle roared up the gravel driveway of the IronFangs Pack.
Ryker’s leather jacket was torn and stained with dried blood, and Lyra clung to his waist, her hybrid skin slowly fading back to its natural tone as the adrenaline began to leave her system.
As they pulled into the main courtyard, several pack members stopped in their tracks.
A group of young warriors training in the field dropped their wooden spears and stared as if they were looking at ghosts.
Ryker killed the engine and helped Lyra down, his hand steadying her as her feet hit the ground. He looked around at his people with a smile. He expected a rush of greeting, but the atmosphere felt off.
"Is everyone okay?" Lyra whispered, sensing the tension.
"We’re home," Ryker said, though his voice was low and a little suspicious.
Usually, the main hall was buzzing with activity, but today it felt like a tomb.
A young maid named Agnes was carrying a tray of glasses toward the kitchen. When she saw Ryker, she gasped, and the tray slipped from her hands.
The glass shattered against the marble floor, but she didn't even look down.
"Alpha Ryker?" she stammered, her face turning pale. "You’re... you’re back?"
"Why does everyone look like they’ve seen a corpse?" Ryker asked, stepping over the broken glass. "Where is everyone?"
"We didn't know," the girl whispered, falling to her knees to start picking up the shards. "We were told you were gone."
Ryker ignored the mess and headed straight for the stairs.
He wanted a hot shower and a bed that didn't smell like vampire blood or desert sand.
He led Lyra up to the second floor, toward the master suite. But when he reached the double doors of his bedroom, he stopped.
The heavy oak doors were ajar. He pushed them open and froze.
The room looked different. His books were gone from the shelves. The large painting of the forest that usually hung over the bed had been replaced by a map of the northern territories.
On the nightstand, there was a half-empty bottle of expensive bourbon and a stack of papers.
Ryker turned to the maid, who had followed them up the stairs in a panic. "Who moved my things? Where is my furniture? Where are my clothes?"
"In the basement storage, sir," Elara whispered, her head bowed. "Alpha Dax ordered it."
Ryker’s eyes flared gold and the growl that ripped from his throat made the maid flinch. "Alpha Dax? Since when did we have another Alpha? I am the leader of the Iron Fang. Dax is my brother, not my successor."
"I’m so sorry, sir!" the maid cried, dropping to her knees and shaking. "We never knew you would be back. We were told you were lost in the Titanium Fortress forever. Dax announced it to the whole pack. He said you were executed by the Titanium High Pack and that someone had to step up to lead us before the vampires attacked. He said he was the only one left to hold us together."
Ryker didn't answer. He turned back toward the room just as the door to the adjoining office opened.
Dax walked out, he looked disheveled and he was wearing Ryker’s favorite brown leather vest, the one that bore the Alpha crest on the back.
He had a glass of bourbon in his hand, and he was murmuring to himself, looking down at a map. He didn't even look up at first. He walked over to the large armchair by the window, Ryker’s favorite chair, and slumped into it.
"Tell the kitchen I want the steak rare tonight," Dax muttered to the room, thinking only the maid was there. "And tell Kade to double the guards at the river. I don't want any surprises."
He took a long swig of the drink, then finally looked toward the door.
Dax gasped. He choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering as he scrambled to stand up.
The glass fell onto the rug, soaking into the fabric. He stared at Ryker and Lyra with wide, bloodshot eyes.
"Hey!" Dax shouted and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to regain his composure. "You... you're back. I didn't know you were back. We thought you were dead, brother. We really did."
He stumbled forward and reached out, his hand trembling as he tried to grab Lyra’s arm to pull her into a hug. "Lyra! Thank the Moon you’re safe. I’ve been worried sick. I’ve been out of my mind trying to figure out how to get you back."
Before his fingers could touch her, Ryker’s hand shot out. He grabbed Dax’s wrist and shoved him back with enough force to send him stumbling into the desk.
"Hands off my wife," Ryker hissed.
Dax’s face flushed red. The alcohol was clearly making him bold and aggressive.
He stood up straight, pulling at the leather vest he had stolen. "What the hell is your problem? I’m your brother! I’ve been running this pack while you were getting yourself captured! I’ve been the one making the hard calls!"
"You’ve been living in my room," Ryker said, his voice dangerously quiet. "You’ve been telling the pack I’m dead so you could sit in my chair and wear my clothes. Even after we literally were on that mountain two nights ago, trying to rescue Lyra!"
"The pack needed a leader!" Dax shouted, his voice rising into a drunken roar. "You went missing! You were gone! What was I supposed to do? Let the IronFangs fall apart? I stepped up! I became what they needed!"
Lyra looked at the maid, who was still trembling on the floor. "Agnes, excuse us. Now," she whispered. The girl didn't need to be told twice; she scrambled up and ran down the hallway.
Lyra turned to Dax, her eyes narrowing. "You told everyone he was executed, Dax. You didn't even send scouts back to the Fortress to check. You just took the title."
Dax shrugged, trying to look indifferent, but his eyes were darting around the room. "I made a logical assumption. No one survives the Titanium dungeons. I was protecting the legacy. And I missed you, Lyra. I really missed you. I did all of this for the pack, and for you."
Ryker took a step forward, reached out and grabbed the lapel of the vest Dax was wearing. He ripped it open, the buttons popping and flying across the room.
"Restore every single one of my properties to this bedroom," Ryker ordered. "Every book. Every shirt. Every piece of furniture. I want this room exactly how it was before you decided to play king."
Dax sneered. "And where am I supposed to go?"
"You move out to the other quarters. The barracks. Or the cellar for all I care," Ryker said. "You are not the Alpha. You never were. You were a placeholder, and your time is up."
Dax laughed bitterly. "Wait a minute. Why are you so mad? We should be celebrating! My brother has returned from the grave! The great Ryker is back to save us all! We should throw a party, shouldn't we?"
Ryker didn't smile. He looked at Dax’s drunken face, the stolen clothes, and the way he looked at Lyra.
He saw the jealousy that had been festering in his brother’s heart for years. It wasn't just about the pack. It was about everything Ryker had.
"I think you wished I was dead," Ryker said.
Dax’s smile vanished and he opened his mouth to argue, to deny it, but Ryker didn't give him the chance.
"Get out of this room," Ryker said. "If I see you in this hallway again tonight, I will forget that we share the same blood."
Ryker grabbed Lyra’s hand and led her toward the bathroom, shutting the bedroom door firmly in Dax’s face.