The open confrontation

CHAPTER FOUR

Alpha Killian’s return had transformed the estate into an outpost on high alert.

Guards doubled their patrols, sentries stood at every stand, and even Mrs. Gable continuously walked through the servant quarters to make sure everything was perfect. All were terrified of drawing the Senior Alpha’s wrath.

Lyra spent the remaining time of the night on a cot in the servant basement, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep a wink..

When dawn broke, the call came down from the main tower.

Alpha Killian had summoned the Heir to his private council room to review the pack’s activities, defenses, and yearly grain distributions.

Lyra was sent by Mrs Gable to clean the side halls near the main study wing.

The other maids still avoided her. The rejection had stripped her of whatever status she once carried, and no one was willing to risk being seen speaking to the discarded mate of the heir.

She set to work.

From the open doors of the council chamber she could hear voices.

Keon was speaking too audibly.

“The border reports were handled in your absence, Father. The supply lines were perfect. I made sure of it.”

Killian’s reply came calmly but the authority in it was undeniable. “What makes it perfect?”

There was a short silence.

Lyra paused in the corridor, straining to hear more.

She recognized the tightness in Keon’s voice. It was the same tone he used when he had been caught unprepared during the exile year and needed her to fix something before anyone noticed.

“I oversaw everything personally,” Keon said.

“Bring me the ledgers,” Killian answered. “The ones you prepared for the assembly.”

Footsteps moved inside the room. A moment later Keon appeared in the doorway, his face masked into perfect composure but pale around the edges.

His eyes landed on Lyra for half a second, just long enough for her to see the flash of unease, before he looked past her and called for a servant.

Lyra lowered her gaze and continued scrubbing.

She was still working the far end of the corridor when a different set of footsteps approached.

The air tightened. The corridor suddenly felt smaller. The other maids went completely silent, putting extra focus on their work.

Lyra glanced up.

Alpha Killian was walking toward the section she was cleaning, jaw set, presence intense enough to make everything else seem insignificant.

Killian walked past without slowing. The tension in the corridor only eased once he disappeared from sight.

A moment later Keon appeared, hair slightly disordered, eyes scanning the hallway until they locked on Lyra.

“You,” he said.. “Inside. Now.”

Lyra set the cloth down and followed him into the study. The door shut behind them with a click.

Keon paced behind the desk. The leather binder lay open between them.

“What did you do?” he demanded. “He asked me about the third-quarter grain margin for the southern areas. He asked why the defense tax was offset by forty percent.”

Lyra kept her expression blank, hands folded in front of her.

“I organized the ledgers exactly as you ordered. I adjusted the margins and corrected the supply numbers.”

“I couldn’t answer him.” Keon’s voice cracked with frustration. “He looked at me like I was lying.”

Lyra watched him blurt it all out. He was starting to stress over the same work he had once taken credit for.

Keon leaned forward, both hands on the desk.

“He wants a full presentation at the Pack Assembly tomorrow evening. Every elder will be there. The border commanders will be there. If I look unprepared in front of him again, he will delay the coronation.”

He moved around the desk until he stood only a step away. His familiar scent of pine no longer stirred anything in her. It simply smelled stale.

“You are going to teach me,” he uttered condescendingly. “You will explain every detail until I have it memorized.”

Lyra met his eyes.

Three years ago she would have done it without hesitation. Now she saw him clearly. He was terrified of being exposed.

“Of course, my Lord,” she said evenly. “I will prepare the briefing notes.”

Keon exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Good. Do it properly.”

He left her alone with the files.

Lyra sat down, picked up the quill, and began again.

By midnight the notes were finished.

She stacked them into the leather portfolio and stepped into the corridors of the Alpha wing to deliver them to Keon’s door.

Her steps were nearly silent. She turned the corner toward the heir’s quarters and stopped dead.

Alpha Killian stood in the center of the corridor.

He had removed the armor. A dark tunic hung open at the throat, black trousers sitting low on his hips.

Even without his armor on, his presence still commanded the room.

Lyra’s fingers tightened on the portfolio. She tried not to fidget.

Killian’s eyes moved over her briefly, lingering for a fraction of a second on the ink stains across her knuckles before rising to her face.

“You’re out late,” he said. “All servants should be in their base by now…”

“Delivering work for the Heir, Alpha.” Lyra answered.

He looked at the portfolio, then back at her. There was no recognition for the book in his expression.

“See that it reaches him.”

He stepped aside just enough for her to pass. The space between them was narrow, causing the heat of his body to brush against hers. The fine hairs on her back stood on ends at the contact.

How powerful was this man?

Lyra didn’t stop until she was certain she was around the corner and out of his sight.

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She stood outside Keon's private chambers, forcing her racing pulse to slow down, before raising her hand to knock twice on it.

The door yanked open almost instantly.

Keon stood in the doorway. Evelyn was nowhere in sight. The room behind him was dimly lit, smelling faintly of wine.

"You took long enough," Keon muttered, his eyes bloodshot as he grabbed her wrist and yanked her straight into his room, slamming the door shut behind them.

"My Lord.." Lyra stumbled, her heels catching on the rug as she held out the leather binder. "Here are your briefing notes for the assembly…"

"Forget about this," Keon growled, tossing the portfolio onto the sofa.

He stepped into her space and his eyes locked onto her lips with sudden hunger.

Lyra felt the bond stir in her chest.

"Keon, stop," she stated icily, making futile attempts to push him back. "You claimed Evelyn. You have made your choice."

"Evelyn isn't here," Keon hissed, his hand shooting out to lock around her chin, forcing her head back as he leaned down to press his mouth against hers. "You spent three years belonging to me, Lyra. You think because I publicly rejected you means I can't take what's still mine whenever I want it?"

Annoyance welled up inside of her. “I’m not yours! Let go of me!”

Before Keon could force her back against the wall, the door was kicked open with a force that splintered the frame.

Alpha Killian stood in the doorway. His aura flared, filling every inch of Keon’s space.

He took one small step into the room. His gaze traced Keon’s hands on Lyra's shoulder to the resistance in her posture.

"Release her," Killian ordered

Keon froze, his face draining of all color as he instinctively yanked his hands back, stumbling half a step away from Lyra. "Father… I… she was just delivering… "

"Silence," Killian growled before looking down at his son, voice laced with absolute disgust.

"Is this the honor of the next Alpha of Bloodmoon?" He drawled.

Killian’s eyes flicked once more to Lyra with scrutiny.

“Return to the servants’ wing,” he told her.

She stepped past both men without looking at either of them and walked out of the room.

For the first time in three years, the Alpha and his Heir had stood in open confrontation.

And she…

She had been the reason for it.