Page 52 of Feral King

It’s a sweet thought, one that brings a smile to my lips, a smile that lingers as I drift off to sleep.

CHAPTER 18

LYRA

“The caterer needs a staging area with at least 300 square feet.”

I glance down at my iPad, taking another look at the venue floor plan.

“And the bar placement on the east wall needs to change; it doesn’t look good as is. On top of that, it’s nearly blocking the secondary exit. If people need to evacuate, they’ll be smushed against the bar on one side.”

Anya nods, tapping away on her tablet.

“Got it,” she says. “I’ll let the owners know asap.”

The venue is a converted warehouse in Red Hook, with exposed brick, iron beams, and thirty-foot ceilings. It’s the kind of space that photographs beautifully but costs a fortune to heat. Red Hook, with its up-and-coming vibe and location near the water, is full of these converted buildings, all of them with tons of venue potential.

The problem withthisvenue is that it hasn’t held an event before, which means I have to put in the extra legwork of making sure everything’s up to code, that all inspections have been done, and that every sightline from the stage works for both the guests and the cameras—of which there will be many.

Anya’s good at this, better than I expected, and for that, I’m grateful. She’s got her tablet, a checklist, and a stubborn thoroughness that reminds me so much of Julian’s that it’s almost comical. It’s amusing to see similar traits of his in the form of a cute, college-aged girl.

Anya takes another note, an expression of curiosity on her face.

“Lyra, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

She purses her lips for a moment, then shifts her weight from one foot to the other. I can tell she’s not looking forward to saying what she has on her mind.

“It’s… my mom. She called this morning, said she wanted to attend the fundraiser.” Her tone is careful, like she’s tiptoeing through a minefield with her words. “She said she wants to support the foundation, that it’s what Dmitri would’ve wanted.”

Great. As if this event wasn’t complicated enough already, now Laura Volkova wants to get involved.

“And what do you think?” I ask.

She nods slowly. “I think she wants to show that she can play nice. Not to mention, she doesn’t like the idea ofpeople talking about potential Volkov family drama behind her back.”

“So, you think her motivation to attend is a bit shady?”

“Kind of. But not totally. She genuinely does care about these events and the causes, even if she has a funny way of showing it. And keeping Dmitri’s wishes aliveisimportant to her.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not choosing sides or anything like that. She’s my mom, but I also know how she can be. And I’m not OKAY with how she’s treated you over the years—I’ve told her that myself. And then there’s the whole Alex thing. He’s my brother, and I love him, but he’s also being an idiot. Not just an idiot, but a dangerous idiot. I’m scared for him, honestly.”

Everything’s coming out in a worried ramble, and I can tell right away that she’s had all of this on her mind for a while. I set down my clipboard on the nearest table and move over to her, putting my hands on her shoulders. I can feel the tension ease the second I do.

“Listen,” I say. “I know this is all crazy. But the fact of the matter is that you don’t need to put yourself right in the middle of it. And you don’t have to take sides.”

She nods; her gaze locked on the floor.

“I know. But this is my family. I’m probably going to have to take sides sooner or later.”

“Later, andmaybe. For now, do what I do whenever I feel stressed or overwhelmed—focus on the work.” I sweep my hand toward the open space in front of us. “It’s the one thing we have control over, for the most part.”

She smiles. “Thanks, Lyra.”

“Anytime.”

Just then, the warehouse doors open and the conversation evaporates. Julian strides in with Ethan flanking him, both in dark suits, both carrying the confident energy of men on a mission.