The Family Ties

I could still hear the warning.

• "Walk away, Lyra… before it’s too late."*

Although Victoria Wolfe had spoken in a soothing, almost caressing tone, her words were abrasive. A pledge. A danger.

But as I watched Damian pour himself a glass of whiskey in the Wolfe estate's magnificent dining room that night, I realized that I wasn't scared.

I ought to be.

However, Victoria would need to put in more effort if she wished to frighten me away.

As usual, Damian leaned against the bar, inscrutable and silent. The gentle clink of ice in his glass was the only sound.

I folded my arms. "So, when would you have told me?"

He glanced at me with his dark blue eyes. "Tell you what?"

I stated bluntly, "That your mother despises me."

Though it didn't make it to his eyes, a ghost of a smirk pulled at his lips. "That was clear even before you met her."

I squinted. "She instructed me to go."

Damian stopped grinning. With a gentle thud, he put down his drink and pushed off the bar. "You saw her when?"

"Earlier in the day," I acknowledged. "I was out when she found me."

His face grew serious. "She ought not to have."

"However, she did." I raised my chin. "And she was very clear about herself."

Damian raked his fingers through his hair and moaned. "She dislikes strangers."

"I observed."

He went on to say, "She doesn't like anyone." "Not even myself."

That caught me off guard. But before I could question him, he stood up straight and adjusted his handcuffs as if he were getting ready for combat.

"Come," he said.

I scowled. "Where?"

Without checking to see if I was following, he moved toward the door. "To properly meet her."

I straightened my shoulders and pushed myself to move even though my gut wrenched.

If Victoria Wolfe believed me to be weak, she was going to be proven wrong.

---

The temperature appeared to decrease as soon as we entered the opulent sitting area.

Victoria held a crystal glass of wine in her hand as she sat in a sophisticated chair by the fireplace. Her appearance was just as I had remembered: her dark eyes were calculating and piercing, her silver hair was styled in a flawless chignon, and she exuded quiet strength throughout her entire being.

Without even glancing at him, she said, "Damian," with ease. "You brought your little wife, I see."

I refrained from speaking.

Damian's voice was calm, but his jaw tightened. "Mom."

At last, Victoria looked at me, a courteous, well-practiced smile curling her lips. "Lyra."

I didn't return the smile. "Victoria."

Her eyes flashed, perhaps with delight. As if she were putting me to the test.

She folded her hands in her lap and put down her drink. "I have to say, I'm shocked you're still here."

I raised an eyebrow. "Disappointed?"

Something between a cough and a giggle escaped Damian's lips, but he immediately suppressed it.

Victoria's smile remained unwavering. "Not at all. I was just wondering.

I refused to take my eyes off of hers. "What are you curious about?"

She replied plainly, "How long do you think you can survive in this world?"

I wasn't prepared for how hard the words hit.

Because I understood her true question.

When will I break?

Before I ran, how long?

I stood up straight. "I'm not easily broken."

Victoria's eyes shone brightly. "Everyone breaks eventually, my dear."

Damian let out a harsh sigh. "Mother, enough."

Victoria turned to look at him. "Oh, sweetheart, don't be too serious. All I was doing was talking to your wife.

"She's not a piece of the game," Damian stated icily.

Victoria's face briefly flashed something, maybe irritation, before she turned back to face me. "You've been married for a few weeks now, right? And tell me, have you worked it out yet, Lyra?

I scowled. "Figured out what?"

Victoria grinned as though she was aware of something I was not.

She remarked, "That Damian doesn't love."

The words chilled me to the bone.

Damian didn't respond when I looked at him. He was silent and unreadable as he stood there.

Victoria's head cocked. "Oh, sweetheart... Didn't you think that he was capable of love?

I balled my fists up. "You're unfamiliar with me."

"I'm not required to," she stated. "I am familiar with him."

The space was oppressive.

Victoria reclined back with a contented look. "Lyra, you're a bright girl. You'll come to understand the reality sooner or later.

Despite the constriction in my throat, I swallowed. "And what is that truth?"

She grinned broadly.

"That you will never be sufficient to transform him."

The words hit me like a blow to the head.

Damian's hands balled into fists as his whole body tightened. "That's sufficient."

Victoria let out a loud sigh. "Very sensitive." She gave me another look. "Lyra, you don't belong here. And you know it in your heart.

I raised my chin. "You're not correct."

Victoria looked at me for a long time before letting out a sigh. "I guess we'll see."

She dismissed me as if I were a mere bother and took up her wine glass once more.

Damian touched me with his hand. A hardly noticeable touch.

However, it was sufficient.

With my heart racing, I turned and left.

I was unsure if Victoria was correct.

However, I was aware of one thing.

I had no intention of leaving.

Not quite yet.

---

My thoughts were racing as I sat on the edge of Damian's enormous bed in his apartment later that evening.

I couldn't get Victoria's remarks out of my brain.

• "Damian doesn’t love." *

• "You’ll never be enough to change him." *

I detested how they affected me.

I detested how she affected me.

I jumped when I heard a knock on the door.

Damian entered before I could answer. He appeared tense. As if he was thinking about something.

I prepared myself. "Have you come to tell me that your mom was correct?"

Mid-step, he paused. He knitted his brows. "What?"

I gave a quick breath. "That I have no place here. That I'll never be sufficient. That you don't— After a moment of hesitation, I pushed the words out. "You don't love that."

Damian's face grew serious. He moved closer. "Do you believe that?"

I said, "I'm not sure what to think," in a softer tone.

We were silent for a long time.

Damian abruptly reached out and tilted my face up to his, his fingertips grazing my chin.

He had a warm touch. Steady.

"Lyra, I don't do love," he whispered. "However, I do want you."

My breath caught.

His thumb touched my bottom lip while he stared at me.

He said, "I warned you about me."

I took a deep breath. "But here we are nonetheless."

A slow, cunning smirk curved Damian's lips.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice deep and hopeful. "We're here."

He leaned in before I could comprehend what was happening—

However, the sound of a phone ringing interrupted the moment just as his lips were about to meet mine.

Damian's mouth tightened. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he withdrew.

He took a look at the screen. And became motionless.

"What is it?" With my heart racing, I inquired.

He gripped the phone more tightly.

Then he said— in a tone colder than I had ever heard—

"That's my mom."

My stomach turned over.

There was a problem.