CHAPTER 27: THE LIES

Lucien froze at the sight before him.

Tracy stood in the foyer, radiant as ever, her soft curls catching the glow of the chandelier. The faintest glimmer of perfume followed her ,something floral, sharp, too bright for the quiet space. She smiled at him, polite but pointed, the corners of her lips lifting just enough to show she knew the effect she had.

And then came Merida’s voice, warm and unaware of the chaos that suddenly bloomed in Lucien’s chest.

"Lucien," she called cheerfully, her heels clicking against the marble floor, "Tracy’s here for dinner. I thought it would be nice for her to get accustomed to everyone before the ceremony."

Ceremony. Oh the engagement that is yet to come

The word landed like a brick, heavy and final.

Lucien’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His fingers curled slightly at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He forced himself to nod, quietly stepping aside to let them through. His pulse was unsteady, his throat tight. He hadn’t expected to see her , not tonight, not in this house,

He wished he’d stayed out longer, or at least locked himself in his room. But with Merida’s hand already resting on his shoulder, there was no escape.

Dinner was agony wrapped in porcelain and silver.

Laughter filled the dining hall, too loud, too bright , like glass scraping against stone. Merida chatted animatedly, playing the perfect hostess, her voice full of practiced charm. Tracy’s laughter followed, airy and sweet, but every gesture she made felt rehearsed , a flick of her wrist here, a polite tilt of her head there.i gotta make a good impression here, she thought

Across from them, Hunter sat like a statue carved from ice. His back was straight, his expression unreadable. Only the faint movement of his fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass betrayed that he was even present.

Lucien didn’t dare look directly at him , not at first. But he could feel it. The weight of Hunter’s eyes, sharp and cold, cutting through the space between them like invisible wires.

He tried to focus on his plate instead. The golden chicken on his fork blurred, his appetite long gone. He listened absently to Tracy’s chatter , something about an upcoming shoot, a designer, a venue. Her words melted into noise. Thank god father left for a trip or it would had been even more awkward

Then came the sound of Hunter’s voice.

"Where were you?"

The words were soft, almost calm ,but they cleaved through the room, cold enough to still even Tracy’s laughter.

Lucien’s fork stilled midair. He looked up, meeting Hunter’s gaze for the first time that night. His breath caught.

Those eyes , commanding, dark, layered with something dangerous. The kind of stare that stripped you down to truth even when you didn’t want to see it.

"I was... at a friend’s place," Lucien said finally, his voice steady, though his heart thudded wildly.

Why are you asking me this now? Why here?

Hunter leaned back, his jaw tightening just slightly. "A friend?" His tone was casual, but the air around them grew thinner. "Who?"

Lucien swallowed hard, lowering his gaze. "Mason."

The lie slid out before he could stop it. It was automatic, the kind that lived on instinct , self-preservation dressed as indifference.

But it wasn’t good enough.

For a moment, the table fell silent. The hum of the chandelier above sounded louder, oppressive. Then came the faintest crack , the quiet, deliberate snap of pressure breaking glass.

Lucien’s eyes flickered up just in time to see Hunter’s fingers tighten around the stem of his wine glass, veins rising beneath his skin. Red liquid bled down the base as hairline fractures splintered through crystal.

Does he know? Did he ask just to see my reaction?

Tracy glanced between them, confusion briefly flashing across her perfect features before she let out a nervous laugh. "Oh! Mrs. Merida, I was just telling Hunter earlier, your garden is stunning. I can’t believe how peaceful this place feels!"

Her voice was too bright, too deliberate. She knows something’s off, Lucien thought. She just doesn’t know what. But tonight it had to be about her , she had to win everyone’s heart somehow

Merida smiled politely, turning her attention back to Tracy, trying to smooth over the tension. The conversation resumed ,lighter, shallower, the kind meant to fill silence rather than invite meaning.

But Hunter didn’t speak again. Not once. His gaze, however, never left Lucien. Not for a second.

By the time dinner ended, Lucien’s nerves felt raw. He excused himself quickly, retreating up the staircase as though chased by ghosts. He didn’t wait for Tracy to leave , he couldn’t , the acceptance of her was a new blow

In his room, the silence was deafening.

He sank onto the edge of his bed, running a trembling hand through his hair. The air felt too thick, too heavy. His mind replayed the dinner over and over , the glass breaking, the way Hunter’s eyes darkened at the sound of Mason’s name.

"Why does it always feel like this?" he muttered under his breath. "Like every word I say will destroy me?"

Why did you look angry at me?

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Lucien?"

he already knew by the voice who it was , He didn’t answer, , but Merida entered anyway. Her presence was gentle, the scent of lavender and warmth trailing behind her. She sat beside him, her movements careful, practiced , the way someone sits next to something fragile.

"I’m sorry for what happened yesterday," she began softly. "With your father. He can be... too much sometimes."

Lucien’s lips curved faintly, but it wasn’t a smile. "It’s okay," he murmured. "I’m used to it."

He wanted to stop there, he already knew that Merida was going want to talk about yesterday, He didn’t want to revisit yesterday ,his father’s words still echoed in his head, cruel and heavy. Maybe the only mistake I ever made was making an omega.

Merida frowned. "No, sweetheart. You can’t get used to something like that." Her hand reached out, fingers curling gently around his. "Just remember , whatever you do, I’ll always be proud of you."

He stared at their joined hands, the warmth there, soft but distant. "Thanks," he said quietly.

But the words tasted hollow. Because deep down, he knew ,she meant well, but she wasn’t his mother. He was a stepchild, the extra piece in a puzzle that never quite fit.

She had her real son. The golden one. The one everyone was proud of.

You won’t understand, he thought. You never will.

Merida smiled again, oblivious to the storm brewing behind his silence. "Now, tell me about the event," she said lightly. "I heard even the Gray family will be attending. Those blood-sucking parasites, always trying to take what’s ours."

Lucien chuckled faintly despite himself. The tension eased for a fleeting moment as they talked , her voice soft, filling the room with a kind of comfort he didn’t want but couldn’t reject.

When she finally stood to leave, she kissed his forehead gently. "Get some rest, darling. You’ll feel better in the morning."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Lucien alone again.

He exhaled shakily, then flopped back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Me and Hunter are stepbrothers," he muttered under his breath. "We’re enemies, Lucien. Nothing more, nothing less. Get that into your head."

But even as he said it, he didn’t believe it.

His gaze drifted to the small metal bike figurine on his desk , a trinket from years ago, back when things between them were simpler. He reached out, fingers brushing its cool surface.

"The feeling’s no longer there without you by my side, the adrenaline is not there anymore" he whispered to no one, closing his eyes as Ethan’s face flashed across his mind. The curve of his smile. The way he used to say his name.

Lucien clenched the pillow against his chest, a dull ache blooming in his ribs. Do you feel the same as I do?

Downstairs, the night was quieter ,but not peaceful.

Hunter sat alone in his study, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. The amber whiskey in his glass caught the glow from the lamp, flickering like fire. He brought it to his lips, but the burn barely registered.

"You lied to me," he muttered, the words breaking the silence. His voice was low, gravelly, tasting of smoke and something darker.

He tilted his head back, swallowing another mouthful of whiskey. The liquid burned its way down, but it did nothing to soothe the storm inside.

He thought of Ethan’s call earlier that day. The voice he hadn’t expected to hear again. The person he was atleast expecting to hear from.. His jaw tightened until it ached.

The glass in his hand cracked. A thin fissure ran through it, then another, until it splintered in his palm. Shards bit into his skin, and blood welled up, dark and hot.

He didn’t flinch.

He stared at the dripping crimson lines across his knuckles, the metallic scent of it rising faintly.

"You dare lie to me, Chiquitín?" he whispered, almost tenderly. "Surely... you need to be punished."

His tone was soft, dangerous , the kind that lived somewhere between a threat and a confession.

He leaned back in his chair, the dim light catching on the sharp edges of his profile — the tension in his jaw, the flicker of something unguarded in his eyes. It wasn’t just anger there. It was longing. Confusion. Fear.

Upstairs, Lucien lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The house was silent, but his thoughts were not.

He could still feel Hunter’s eyes on him from across the dinner table. The weight of his question. The way his voice had dipped , low, personal, meant only for him.

He turned onto his side, his chest tight, eyes burning. The truth hovered at the edge of his thoughts, dangerous and undeniable.

Maybe he lied because telling the truth would destroy them both.

Maybe he lied because the truth was worse , that Hunter wasn’t just his brother’s fiancé.

He was the one person Lucien could never stop wanting.

Maybe he also lied to himself – that he does not miss Ethan

Maybe he lied -he want to ride the event with Ethan more than anything else

And somewhere in the house, Hunter downed the rest of his whiskey, the broken glass glinting beside him like a quiet, unspoken promise ,one that could only ever end in ruin.