All Chapters of TWO ALPHAS ONE BOND : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

LYRA One week. It's been a week since Lucius showed up with his weird warnings. A whole week since that council meeting turned everything upside down, and a week since Willow was taken. Seven days of trying to get used to this new reality I'm still figuring out. I'm sitting here at breakfast, sandwiched between Zeviar and Orion, and honestly, I'm just trying to tune out all the stares from the pack. They're not even trying to be sneaky about it. The whispers follow us everywhere – ‘The girl with two mates’ ‘The human who somehow bonded with twin Alphas.’ ‘The one who broke all the rules just by existing.’ It's a lot. "Can you please pass the coffee?" Orion asked. Zeviar's hand shot out, grabbing the pot before I could reach it. "I've got it," he said, pouring into Orion's cup with just a little too much force. Orion's eyes narrowed. "I was asking Lyra." "And I'm closer to the pot." "Barely." I sighed and reached for my own cup, filling it myself while they had their silent Alp

LYRAThe packhouse was still buzzing with activity when Zeviar finally returned. I'd spent the entire day on edge, Lucius's warnings echoing in my head, a hidden note in my drawer, and Mira's odd behavior just adding to the unease. But seeing him walk through the entrance, a wave of relief washed over me. He looked wiped out, his jaw clenched and shoulders tight. Yet, when his eyes met mine across the room, his expression softened. He came straight to me, no words needed."Are you alright?" His voice was low, meant only for me."It's been a long day.""For both of us." He studied my face. "Come with me.""Where?""Somewhere less chaotic."He led me through the commotion to his private rooms, a part of the packhouse I'd only visited once before. The sitting room was simple, but comfortable. A small table was laid out with food–nothing fancy, just bread, cheese, fruit, and wine. "You did this?" I asked."I thought we could use a break from everyone."I couldn't help but smile. "Thank you

ZEVIARI left Lyra in my room to get dressed and practically almost fell down the stairs. My family was here. Way earlier than expected. And I knew precisely what that meant. Judging eyes. Constant scrutiny. Disapproval disguised as polite tradition.I made it to the main hall just as the first car crunched on the gravel outside. Guards scrambled to open doors, and servants stood in a stiff line. There I was, at the entrance, spine straight, face impassive. The Alpha King, welcoming his kin. Even though every fiber of my being wanted to be anywhere but here.The first figure to emerge from the car sent a clench through my jaw. Grandfather. Aldric Dravyn. The previous Alpha King. Retired, in title at least, but he’d never truly relinquished his grip on power. He was still a commanding presence, tall and broad-shouldered even with age, his hair the color of steel and his eyes capable of flaying you. Everything about him radiated authority, tradition, and an unyielding need for control.H

LYRAThe door was open just a crack when I got there. A line of warm light shone through the dim hallway. I paused for a beat, Ana’s half-finished thought still buzzing in my head. What was she going to say?I pushed the door open and found Zeviar by the window, his back to me. He was still in his dinner clothes, but his jacket was gone, and his sleeves were rolled up. He held a glass of amber liquid, not drinking, just holding it. His shoulders were tight, like he’d been standing there for ages.He knew I was there, but he didn't turn right away. "How was the garden?" he asked, his voice softer than usual."It was cold," I replied. "Ana kept me warm."He turned then, his gaze sweeping over my face with that intense focus he has. It always feels like he’s reading me, not just looking. Something changed in his expression when he saw me. "Sit down," he said."I'm good standing.""Lyra."I sat down.He put the untouched glass on the windowsill and walked over, sinking into the chair oppos

LYRA The ballroom doors were imposing – twelve feet of carved mahogany, reaching from floor to ceiling, their edges gilded with the Dravyn crest. Behind them, the muffled sounds of music and conversation hinted at the electric atmosphere within, where powerful people had gathered. In front of them, there was just us. Zeviar's hand rested on the small of my back, his presence a steady anchor. He looked incredibly sharp in black, his posture perfect, his jaw set with that quiet authority he possessed so effortlessly. "Hey," he murmured, his voice just for me. "Hey," I replied, turning to face him. His eyes swept over my face, that familiar, thorough look that always made me feel both vulnerable and seen. Whatever he saw there must have prompted him to turn towards me fully, his hand moving from my back to my waist. "Lyra, talk to me," he urged gently. "I'm fine." "No, you're not." His tone was soft, an invitation rather than an accusation. "Your hands are freezing, and you've pee