Breed Me Cursed Alpha (Lyra and Ronan) novel Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Lyra

…

Lunch ends the way everything here does-without warning.

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One moment, voices still buzz low around the table, plates half-cleared, tension coiled so tight it hums. The next, chairs scrape back and elders begin to rise, already speaking over one another, already shifting the conversation away from anything that might require them to look at me.

One of the attendants approaches, steps measured, posture respectful. He does not interrupt the conversation or raise his voice. He simply inclines his head, waiting until Ronan’s attention flicks his way. Only then does he speak, quiet and composed.

“The council chamber is ready, Alpha.”

Nothing more. No urgency. No demand. Just the understanding that Ronan decides when and whether he goes. The attendant steps back immediately after, hands clasped, eyes lowered. Around us, the room subtly shifts, conversations thinning, bodies orienting without instruction. The meeting has been announced, not ordered. And everyone waits for Ronan to lead.

Ronan’s hand brushes my lower back, a quiet question.

I nod.

We fellow the attendant out.

The walk to the office is short but heavy. Stone corridors, banners newly cleaned now that hands can touch again, pack members moving aside instinctively for their Alpha King. For their Luna. I feel the glances. Curious. Measuring. Some warm. Some sharp.

The office doors shut behind us with a sound that makes my shoulders tense.

The council chamber smells of parchment, dust, and old magic that never quite fades. The kind that settles into stone and wood and watches you back. A long table dominates the room, its surface scarred with centuries of claw marks and carved sigils older than the fortress itself. The chairs are heavy, brutal things, shaped for wolves who ruled before politeness mattered.

The elders take their seats without ceremony, already reaching for the decanter at the center of the table. Whiskey splashes into thick glasses. One pours two fingers, then another, then gives up and drinks straight from the bottle, the sound sharp in the quiet. Ronan pours himself a shot, stares at it, then downs it, pours another. He doesn’t winch at all.

His mother claims the seat closest to the head, spine straight, chin lifted like the room belongs to her by right.

I sit beside Ronan. I choose water. My hands stay folded in my lap, steady, even as the weight of the room presses in.

The meeting begins without ceremony.

Reports come fast and clipped, delivered the way wolves speak when facts matter more than pride. Crops

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Chapter 38

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stabilizing now that the land responds again. Borders holding, patrols reduced without incident. A dispute between two families over reclaimed housing, old grudges resurfacing now that bodies are solid again. Someone mentions a broken well near the southern ridge, water fouled by runoff and neglect.

I listen.

Actively.

I watch who speaks first and who waits. Who looks to Ronan before answering and who looks to the elders instead. I note which problems are treated as urgent and which are brushed aside. This isn’t just

administration. It’s a map of loyalties, fault lines, and fears. And it tells me exactly where the pack is strongest -and where it’s about to break.

I picture the map in my head, the way Ronan showed it to me weeks ago when he thought I was asleep. I remember the stream that feeds the well. The landslides from last winter. The way water would pool there before vanishing underground.

When the problem circles for the third time, unresolved, I speak.

“If you reroute the overflow channel,” I say, voice calm, “the pressure on the well will ease. You don’t need a new structure. Just redirect where the water settles.”

Silence.

Then-

“Well, as I was saying,” one elder continues, not even glancing my way.

Ronan’s mother clears her throat. “The issue isn’t water flow. It’s allocation.”

Another elder nods. “Exactly. We can’t waste time on impractical ideas.”

I blink.

They didn’t even look at me.

I glance at Ronan. His jaw tightens. He leans forward slightly. “Lyra has a point-”

No one stops talking.

They talk over him too.

The sound builds, layered voices, decisions being made as if neither of us exists. My chest tightens. Not with anger. With something colder.

Familiar.

Ronan’s hand curls into a fist on the table.

“Enough,” he says.

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…

Chapter 38

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Nothing.

They keep going.

My throat burns. I swallow hard, forcing myself not to shrink, not to fold inward the way I was taught to.

Then Ronan speaks again.

One word.

“Silence.”

Every voice cuts off mid-syllable.

The elders stiffen. Ronan’s mother goes very still.

Ronan turns to me fully now. “Lyra,” he says evenly. “Repeat what you said.”

I do.

Slower this time. Clearer. I explain the runoff. The channel. The way the land naturally wants to move water if you let it. I point to the map etched into the table, tracing the path with my finger.

This time, they listen.

One elder frowns, considering. Another nods reluctantly. Someone asks a follow-up question, and I answer it without hesitation.

The solution settles into place like it was always meant to be there.

“Fine,” one of them mutters. “We’ll try it.”

The matter closes.

Just like that.

My pulse is loud in my ears.

The rest of the meeting moves faster after that. Decisions made. Notes scribbled. Then one final

announcement.

“Alpha Jordan has requested a meeting,” an elder says. “On his land.”

Ronan doesn’t hesitate. “No.”

A pause. “It would be seen as diplomatic.”

“If he wants me,” Ronan replies, “he comes here.”

No one argues.

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Chapter 38

The meeting dissolves.

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We file out together, the tension thinning as we move back into the corridors. A few pack members who have recently become solid pause when they see us. They bow their heads to Ronan, smile at me.

“Luna,” one of them says warmly. “It’s good to see you walking these halls.”

Another adds, “You solved the well issue. Thank you.”

Heat rises in my cheeks. Werewolf hearing. I smile back, murmuring something polite. Ronan answers a question about patrols, easy, relaxed. For a brief moment, it feels almost normal.

Then I reach for my neck.

My scarf.

It’s gone.

“I forgot something,” I say quickly. “I’ll catch up.”

Ronan frowns. “I’ll come with-”

“I’ll be two minutes,” I insist. “Promise.”

He studies me, then nods. “I’ll wait.”

I turn back down the corridor alone.

The office door is slightly ajar when I reach it. I push it

and open

step

inside.

Kyle is there.

He’s standing near the shelves, one hand braced against the wood, like he’s a little unsteady on his feet. He looks up when he sees me and smiles, soft and sheepish.

“Oh,” he says. “Sorry. I was looking for the bathroom.”

Relief loosens my chest. “It’s down the main corridor,” I say easily. “Second door on the left.”

He nods. “Thanks. Still getting my bearings.”

I grab my scarf from the chair, then hesitate. Turn back to him.

“I wanted to say thank you,” I say. “For earlier. At lunch.”

His smile fades into something gentler. “I meant it.”

meant

“I know.” My voice softens. “I’ve… I’ve always wanted this. A brother who stands up for me.”

Something flickers across his face. Gone too fast to name.

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Chapter 38

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He steps closer and (very gently) pulls me into a hug. It’s awkward, careful, like he’s afraid of hurting me. He presses a quick kiss to my cheek.

“I love you,” he says quietly.

My throat tightens. I hug him back.

For one foolish, fragile moment, I let myself believe it.

Catalina scoffs.

‘You are seeing what you want,’ she says dryly.

“Stop,” I snap back, internally. Just this once.

Kyle steps back, smiling again. “I’ll let you get back. Don’t want to keep the Alpha waiting.”

I nod, heart warm, scarf clutched in my hands.

As I leave the room, Catalina’s presence curls closer.

“Blood is loud,” she murmurs. “Deceit is quieter.”

I push the thought away and head back toward Ronan.

AD

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