Chapter 7: The Enemy's Dinner Table

Angel

The car ride was excruciating. I sat rigid in the back of the sleek black sedan, the leather seats cold and unforgiving against my skin. Drake Crane sat beside me, equally motionless. Every breath I took felt monitored; every movement was scrutinized by the man who now owned my time.

My mind drifted to a soft, impossible fantasy. I had always imagined my wedding day would be warm and filled with quiet joy. I would wear a light, flowing dress and walk toward a man whose eyes held warmth. We would have a home filled with the scent of old books and morning sunshine.

Now, my reality was a silent, speeding luxury car driven by a cold-eyed stranger.

The drive wasn’t long. We moved from the glass towers of the city into the exclusive, tree-lined hills. We passed through massive wrought-iron gates with a sharp, absolute engraving: CRANE.

The car stopped before a modernist structure, a vast complex of dark stone and glass that looked more like a fortress than a home. Grey opened my door. Drake was already out, walking toward the entrance without a second thought for me.

"Hurry up, Mrs. Crane," he commanded, his voice carrying back like a whip.

I gripped my clutch bag and doubled my steps. My heels clicked rapidly on the drive, a frantic rhythm that mirrored my panic. I followed him through a grand foyer that felt like a museum of wealth, silent, vast, and utterly cold.

Drake led me deeper into the belly of the house. We passed through heavy, carved double doors into a massive hall lit by cascading crystal chandeliers.

I froze.

A long, polished dining table stretched for miles, and it was full. Dozens of people in dark evening wear sat in a terrifying, uniform silence. They all stared at the entrance.

"Sir Drake," I whispered, my voice trembling. "What is this? You didn't tell me—"

"Quiet," he snapped, not looking at me.

I stumbled slightly, realization hitting me. This wasn't a home. I instinctively shrank back, trying to hide behind his broad shoulders.

"Is this a meeting?" I hissed. "After a wedding I never wanted? I don't know these people!"

Drake didn't answer. His entire aura shifted. The boredom he’d shown in the penthouse vanished, replaced by a focused, lethal aggression. He stopped at the head of the table.

The silence was a physical weight. Drake let it hang there for a calculated moment before he addressed an old woman at the center, a stern figure with eyes that burned with absolute authority.

"Grandmother," Drake announced, his voice ringing through the hall. "Meet the new Mrs. Crane."

He didn't wait for a reaction. He twisted toward me, his face illuminated by a terrifying, devilish smile. It wasn't a look of affection; it was the look of a man dropping a bomb. He reached out and grasped my hand, crushing my fingers against his side.

His skin was ice. The touch was a sudden assertion of ownership, devoid of any humanity. I was his weapon, and he was aiming me directly at his bloodline.

The room exploded into a frenzy.

"Never!" the old woman screamed, slamming her hands onto the table. The sound was like a gunshot. "She cannot be! It is impossible!"

"She is my wife," Drake countered, his tone deadly calm. "The papers are signed and filed. It is done."

"You are a fool, Drake!" a man further down the table shouted, standing up. "You are risking everything! You are risking her life, yours and ours!"

My heart hammered against my ribs. My life?

"What does he mean?" I whispered to Drake, my voice hitching. "How does my life get in the way? This was just a contract!" I whispered

Drake squeezed my hand so hard I winced. He didn't look at me. He kept his burning gaze fixed on his grandmother.

"She has no capacity for this, she will die, it is obvious she does not know what she getting are self into!" the old woman shrieked, her face contorting with fury. "She is a nobody! A girl from the gutter and she is human! You have gone too far this time!" the man continued to speak

Drake remained silent, yet the man’s bravado vanished in an instant. I looked to where Drake was staring and found Grey’s eyes fixed on the stranger like a predator watching its prey. Without a word being spoken, the man crumbled, pulling his shoulders in and sinking deep into his chair.

"She is a Crane now," Drake said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal rumble. "And everyone one of you will treat her as such.

"You think you are so clever," the old woman spat, leaning forward until her diamonds caught the light. "But you have invited a lamb into a den of wolves. Do you really think she will survive the night once the others find out?"

"She will survive because I say she will," Drake said.

I looked around the table. The faces were no longer masks; they were hungry. They looked at me as if I were a mistake that needed to be erased.

"Drake, please," I pleaded, trying to pull my hand away. "Let me go. I don't want any part of this. I whispered again hoping he can hear me

Drake leaned down, his breath cold against my ear. "I need you to stay calm” his voice was low but it came with so much authority.

He turned back to the room, raising our joined hands like a trophy of war. "The breakfast is over

"You won't get away with this!" the old woman screamed, her voice cracking with rage. "The Clan will not accept her! She is a death sentence, Drake! For both of you!"

"Grandmother," Drake said. His voice echoed through the hall, and I went still. There was no love in his words, only a cold command. I wondered how a grandson could speak to his family as if they were enemies on a battlefield

"Then let them come," Drake said.

He pulled me away from the table, dragging me back through the carved doors. I had to run to keep up with his long, angry strides. Once we were back in the sterile corridor, I finally wrenched my hand free.

"Risking my life?" I shouted, my voice echoing off the marble. Drake stopped and turned. He looked at me with those winter-dark eyes, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something that looked like grim pity.

"You wanted the money for your father, didn't you and your freedom?" he asked.

"Yes, but—"

"Then this is the price," he said. "