Chapter 32 Doomed Dinner
Lyra tried to keep her breathing steady as the maids led her up the stairs of the castle, because that was the only word for it. Castle.
The floors shone like polished stone and the walls were decorated elaborately with silver. Every corridor was wider than the IronFang Alpha Hall itself.
Everything here screamed wealth, power, and superficiality.
And none of it belonged to her.
The maids whispered among themselves excitedly, practically tripping over their own feet as they guided her to the upper level. The moment they pushed open a tall double door, Lyra froze.
It wasn’t just a bedroom.
“Please step inside, princess,” one maid said, bowing as her eyes shone with admiration.
Lyra walked in slowly, her hands trembling before she hid them behind her. The room stretched wide, easily three times larger than the IronFang packhouse lobby. A king-size bed draped in thick fabrics sat against the wall. The windows overlooked the entire Titanium territory.
But of all this, it was the closet that made her jaw drop.
“What would you love to wear today, my princess?”
The door slid open as two maids rushed ahead, and Lyra stepped inside to see rows upon rows of clothing: sequins, lace gowns so delicate they could tear with the slightest tug, silk dresses that fluttered like water, denim, leather stitched with silver thread.
All the colors were so rich and vivid that they looked unreal.
“Which would you like to wear, princess?” a maid repeated eagerly.
Lyra blinked. Everything felt too large, too bright, too overwhelming. She couldn’t imagine herself in any of these glittering, jeweled costumes.
So she reached for the only thing in the entire sea of fancy that made sense.
A plain black jean and a simple tank top.
All four maids gasped at once.
“Are you sure?” one blurted out before slapping a hand over her mouth, horrified at her own boldness.
Lyra felt her throat tighten. “It’s fine,” she said gently. “It’s just a family dinner.”
The maids exchanged panicked glances and bowed repeatedly.
“Our apologies, Princess Irene.”
Lyra winced.
The title felt like a collar tightening around her neck.
“No,” she said softly, rubbing her temple. “You don’t need to call me that every time. Irene is fine.”
As she said this, every maid stiffened, their faces draining of color.
Lyra stared. “What? What’s wrong?”
The oldest maid swallowed hard. “You’ve never asked anyone to address you by your name before, princess.”
Lyra blinked. “What?”
Another maid nodded rapidly. “You always insist on being called Princess Irene. Even Alpha Darius is scolded when he forgets.”
Ah.
So Irene wasn’t just wealthy. She was pompous, strict, and terrifying.
Lyra took a slow breath. “Well, that might have changed during my time away,” she said carefully. “I’ve had time to reflect. Please, just call me Irene.”
They hesitated. It felt like she’d just told them the sun was shaped like a banana.
But when she nodded with reassurance, they finally bowed again. “Yes.”
Lyra gave them a tiny smile.
For the next few minutes, she was washed, perfumed, and dressed quickly. The simple jeans and tank top did the job, and soon she was ready. She followed the maids down the grand staircase toward the dining hall.
The closer she got, the more noise she heard. There was deep laughter and what could only be described as drunken shouting. Not at all the “family dinner” she imagined.
When she stepped into the hall, she paused.
The table was enormous, stretching nearly the length of the room, packed with about eighteen men, all tall, broad, and intimidating. And in front of them were at least four cooked and baked cow heads.
There were piles—literal piles—of meat, roasted, grilled, dripping with spices so thick she could smell the fire from where she stood. Huge bottles of liquor decorated the table like centerpieces, and barrels of wine sat beside Darius’s chair.
Lyra froze at the bottom of the stairs, and every head turned.
They stared at her as though she’d walked in wearing leaves.
Darius’s expression was not good.
“What are you wearing, sweetheart?” he asked. “Didn’t they prepare your fancy gowns?”
Lyra lifted her chin slightly. “I’m fine with this. I thought it was just a family dinner.”
Darius barked a laugh. “Since when does family dinner mean just the two of us? My council of elders is my family.”
Of course. Lyra swallowed.
He gestured for her to come. “Sit, my darling. I’ll buy more dresses tomorrow. And jewelry too. Your favorite is still diamond, yeah?”
Lyra forced a polite smile. “I still have plenty left.”
One man at the table snorted loudly. “Since when has Princess Irene ever refused a shopping spree?”
She stiffened.
Darius chuckled. “My daughter is tired and traumatized. Ignore her. She’ll be back to herself soon.”
Lyra kept her expression neutral even though she wanted to vanish from this absurd place.
She sat, trying to focus on the plate before her, but the meat was so spicy her tongue burned from the scent alone. She reached for water, but the jug nearest to her was filled with strong alcohol.
And they all drank like they were trying to drown their lungs.
Lyra’s face was burning, and she decided she was done with the meal.
Out of nowhere, Darius slammed his massive palm on the table. “Now, to business.”
The men leaned forward.
“I want the names of every IronFang involved in her abduction.”
Lyra’s heart lurched.
One of the elders nodded fiercely. “I had our men search the forest. It was definitely the IronFangs. They kidnapped her for the five million ransom. Fools. They lost her to vampires instead.”
Another growled, “We should wipe the entire pack out. Teach them what happens when they touch Titanium blood.”
Lyra felt sick.
She couldn’t let this happen.
“They didn’t hurt me,” she said suddenly.
The entire hall fell silent.
Darius turned slowly, frowning. “What?”
Lyra swallowed. “They didn’t hurt me. They found me after I collapsed in the desert. They only picked me up.”
The elders exchanged looks.
Darius gave a tight smile. “You must be exhausted, sweetheart. Your memory isn’t clear yet.”
“I remember enough.”
He waved her off. “Daddy will handle it.”
Then, as if she hadn’t spoken at all, he continued discussing how to “pull Ryker out” and “bury the IronFangs until their pack is dust.”
Lyra’s stomach dropped.
She couldn’t sit there anymore. She pushed her plate back and stood quickly.
Darius paused mid-sentence. “What’s wrong, darling? Was the meal not to your liking? I’ll have them prepare another. Ducks? Pigeons? You always loved those.”
Lyra shook her head. “I’m not hungry. I’d like to sleep.”
Immediately, he softened. “Of course. Of course, my little star. You must have had a tiring journey back home.”
He hugged her tightly, and she forced herself not to stiffen.
Then she walked away, climbed the stairs, and disappeared down the hallway.