Chapter 7

LYRA’S POV

The door slammed shut behind me. The sound was loud in the quiet, fancy room. My heart was beating so fast it hurt. I had to leave. Now. I couldn't breathe in this house full of beautiful, hateful people. My hands shook as I pulled open the dresser drawers and grabbed my few pieces of clothing. I didn't fold them. Just threw them into the small suitcase I'd found in the closet.

Every second, I expected the door to burst open. For one of them—Caspian with his anger, Silas with his cold fury—to come for me. They thought I was a killer. The thought made me feel sick. My mother's betrayal hurt like a fresh cut. She'd thrown me to them. She always threw me away.

A floorboard creaked outside my door. I froze, my whole body tense. The doorknob turned slowly. I looked around for a weapon, anything.

It was Jeremy.

I let out a breath that was half relief, half fresh anger. He slipped inside and leaned against the closed door, blocking my only way out. His dark eyes looked around the room—at the messy bed, the open suitcase, my panic.

"Going somewhere?" he asked. His voice was low and calm. It made me want to scream.

"Get out of my way, Jeremy." I tried to sound strong, but my voice cracked.

"You can't leave, Lyra."

"Watch me." I turned my back on him and kept packing. I was not staying here. I was not their prisoner.

"It's not safe for you out there."

I spun around to face him, my hands in fists at my sides. "And it's safe for me in here? With a bunch of men who want me dead? With my own mother selling me out to save herself? Tell me, Jeremy, what part of this is safe?"

He stepped toward me. I stepped back and hit the edge of the bed. "I'll keep you safe," he said. For a second, he sounded like the old Jeremy from the club. The one who claimed me. The one who made me feel protected.

"How?" I threw the word at him. "How can you keep me safe from your own family?"

The words hung in the air between us. His face didn't change, but something in his eyes shifted.

Cold fear washed over me. No.

"Jeremy?" My voice came out as a whisper.

He ran a hand through his dark hair. "Lyra... there's something I need to tell you."

"Tell me what?" The fear was like ice in my chest.

He looked at me, and his next words were quiet but final. "They're not just a pack. They're my pack. Caspian, Silas, Orion... Raphael. They're my brothers."

The world tilted. Everything around me—the expensive rug, the painted walls, the very air—it all belonged to him. He wasn't just the club owner who saved me. He was a Sterling.

The betrayal was so complete it made everything white out. My hand moved before I could think. The crack of my palm hitting his cheek was loud in the quiet room.

His head snapped to the side. He didn't flinch. He just slowly turned back to look at me. A red mark was already forming on his stubbled skin. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them.

"You liar," I said, the words shaking with anger. "You're a liar, just like everyone else in my life! You knew! You knew who I was when I walked into this place! You let me walk in here blind!"

"I didn't know," he said, his voice rough. "Not until my father married your mother. The connection between us... it confused me, too. I felt it that first night in the alley, but I didn't understand it. I didn't know why you felt like mine."

"Don't!" I shouted, pushing against his chest. He didn't move. "Don't you dare talk about that! You don't get to claim me and then hide this from me! You're one of them!"

He grabbed my wrists. His grip was firm but didn't hurt. He held my hands against his chest. I could feel the hard muscle, the fast, steady beat of his heart. It felt like a lie.

"I'm trying to explain," he said through clenched teeth, his face close to mine. His breath was warm on my skin. "I just found out. I was going to tell you."

"When?" I struggled against his hold, but it was useless. "After they decided to kill me for a crime I didn't do? This changes everything! You stood there! You saw them accuse me! You saw my own mother! And you said nothing!"

Down the hall, a door opened and shut. Angry voices drifted toward us. A meeting. They were having a meeting about me.

Jeremy's head turned slightly, listening. His jaw tightened. When he looked back at me, his face was different. Harder. The club owner. The alpha. The brother.

"You can't leave the estate, Lyra," he said. His voice left no room for argument.

"You can't keep me here."

"It's not my decision. It's pack law. Until we know what your mother has planned, until we know what danger she is, you stay here. Where we can watch you."

The unfairness of it stole my breath. "I don't care about Iris! I have no loyalty to her! She just proved she has none for me! Whatever sick game she's playing, I want no part of it!"

Jeremy's eyes searched mine. For a moment, I saw a flicker of doubt. Of belief. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by cold, frustrating resolve. "It doesn't matter what you want. You share her blood. You live under this roof. That makes you part of this. You're guilty until proven otherwise."

The door opened again. Silas stood there, his icy gaze looking over the scene: me, flushed and shaking, Jeremy holding my wrists, the half-packed suitcase on the bed.

"The pack has decided," Silas said, his voice empty of all emotion. "She doesn't leave the grounds. Not until we have answers."

I looked from his cold face to Jeremy's conflicted one. The two brothers. On the same side. Always on the same side.

"You think I helped her poison your father?" My voice was barely a whisper, broken by the weight of their suspicion.

Silas's lips twisted into a thin, cruel smile. "We don't think anything yet, stepsister. We're going to find out. And you're going to stay right here until we do."