Page 45 of Feral King

Then, as if summoned by the universe, the office door opens and Julian walks in.

He stops when he sees me. All the feelings I’d been avoiding over the last week hit me all at once. Great. My breath shortens and my heart rate picks up.

“Julian,” Elena says, not missing a beat. “Sit down. Your Lyra may have very well just saved your life.”

YourLyra. I like the sound of that.

Julian knits his brow. “What do you mean?”

Elena walks him through it—the unvetted names, the VIP corridor exposure, all of it.

Julian listens without interrupting, his expression shifting from attentive to something dark, something cold and operational, as she speaks.

When Elena is done, he takes a moment to process what he’s just been told, then turns his attention to the new layout.

“You rerouted the corridor access,” he says.

“Yes, to the east entrance. And Fomin and the rest won’t get badges until they’re personally vetted by you.”

He flicks his eyes to me, a heated gaze that nearly melts me on the spot. Then he slips out his phone and takes a picture of the layout. He sends it to whom I presume is Ethan, then regards me with an expression of gratitude.

Julian opens his mouth to speak, but the office door swings open before he can get out a single word.

A man in his mid-twenties breezes in, walking with the sort of confidence and swagger that makes it seem like he’s under the impression he runs the place. He’s got curly dark hair and is wearing a grin that makes him look like he’s amused by whatever’s on his mind.

He’s also got Elena’s sharp cheekbones. The resemblance is uncanny.

“Mom, I need the car keys,” he says. “I left my—oh.” He spots me and his grin widens. “Well, hello. Julian, you didn’t tell me that the foundation hired a…voluptuousnew?—”

“Peter!” Julian’s tone is sharp and cutting—enough to silence and stun the cocky little asshole right on the spot.

But Peter clears his throat and keeps going. “I’m just saying—it’s nice to see the foundation investing in?—”

“Peter, this is Lyra Thibodeaux. She runs the foundation’s event operations. You will not speak to her or about her in that way, and if you evenattemptto finish that sentence, I’ll ensure that the next event you attend is your funeral.”

Peter’s grin dies and his face totally drains of color. Next to me, Elena lets out a restrained snort of amusement.

“If there’s one member of this family you ought to listen to other than myself,” she says, “you’re looking at him, young man.”

“I… Julian… I didn’t?—”

The confidence and swagger are totally gone, leaving Peter looking like a nervous kid.

“Apologize to Ms. Thibodeaux. Now.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

The silence that follows is uncomfortable, to say the least. Peter looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe. Elena calmly sips her tea, content to watch her son learn his lesson.

“It’s fine,” I say.

“This time,” Julian adds. “Lyra, walk with me.”

I gather my things, nodding to Elena as I stand, and she nods back. As Julian and I enter the corridor, I can hear Elena quietly chastising Peter.

Julian closes the door, his hand finding the small of my back. Together, we walk in silence toward the elevator.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say finally.