Ares's world narrowed instantly, the focus of his powerful Alpha mind snapping away from Lyra and the romantic tension to the single, cold name that had just shattered the truce: Caleb.
He didn't wait for Lyra to explain. His hand shot back to the comm panel, his fingers slamming the button to hold the connection open. His gaze locked onto Lyra, his silver eyes now radiating an intense, dangerous suspicion that felt colder than any rejection.
"Aunt Elara," he commanded into the speaker, his voice a low, terrifying growl that carried the undeniable weight of an Alpha in distress. "Repeat what you just said, slowly. Whose child is sick, and what does Children's Services have to do with Lyra's itinerary?"
Lyra felt the blood drain from her face. She tried to rush toward the panel, her Omega instincts screaming at her to silence him, to protect the secret, but Ares was faster. He simply raised his free hand in a dismissive gesture, an Alpha command so strong it pinned her to the spot two feet away, helpless and frantic.
"Ares! Stop! This is not your business!" she cried out, her voice tight with panic.
He ignored her, his attention fixed on the speaker, waiting for the trembling voice on the other end.
"Ares, please, just let me talk to Lyra!" Aunt Elara pleaded, her voice cracking. "It's bad. They're asking questions. It's Caleb—he's got a fever and a rash, and the school called the emergency contact, only… they thought Lyra was the only guardian, and now they've called the agency. Please, please just let Lyra come home and fix this!"
Ares's jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched near his temple. He slowly lowered his head, his gaze sweeping over Lyra, now standing rigid and pale with terror. Every piece of his Alpha brain was furiously assembling the puzzle. Five years gone. No communication. A sudden return for "business." A trusted relative acting as a secret guardian. And a child. A child named Caleb.
He returned his attention to the comm panel, his voice now eerily calm, the calm before an Alpha storm. "Aunt Elara. Lyra is safe. I will ensure she gets home. But you will tell me exactly where you are, and you will answer one question, and you will be honest." He paused, letting the heavy silence drag. "Who is the child's Alpha?"
On the other end, there was a sharp, choked gasp, followed by a sudden burst of static as the aunt seemed to drop the phone.
Lyra, galvanized by the danger to her family, finally broke through his non-physical restraint, lunging toward him. "Ares, leave her alone! You have no right!"
He caught her wrist with effortless speed, his grip firm but not bruising, yet completely inescapable. He didn't even look at her; his eyes were still on the panel.
A young girl's voice, small and congested, suddenly cut through the static on the speaker. "Mama? My tummy hurts. Where are you?"
Lyra froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes squeezed shut in a painful denial of the moment. That was Elara. The younger twin.
A deep, primal sound—half-growl, half-realization—tore itself from Ares's chest. He dropped his gaze from the comm panel and looked at Lyra's frozen, devastated face, his eyes slowly widening in shock, then in agonizing certainty.
"Mama?" he repeated, the word a raw whisper of disbelief. His Alpha scent, usually clean and crisp, soured instantly, filling the luxurious penthouse with the acidic tang of betrayal and shock.
He released Lyra's wrist, stepping back as if she had suddenly turned to fire. His hand instinctively went to the nape of his neck, running over the spot where his old mate-mark for Lyra had been.
"Five years," he breathed out, the realization striking him with the force of a physical blow. "You left five years ago. And you came back with a son named Caleb, and a daughter who just called out for her mother." He looked at the floor where the teacup had shattered. "You were pregnant when you left."
Lyra finally lowered her defenses, her rigid posture dissolving into heartbroken defeat. Tears welled in her eyes, not of fear, but of agonizing surrender. "I was. I didn't know until three weeks after I signed the papers. And I kept them safe. Away from the pressure, away from your family, away from your choices."
Ares stared at her, his Alpha heart—the one he had sworn only moments ago belonged only to her—fracturing under the weight of the enormous, beautiful secret she had kept.
"Twins," he whispered, his eyes distant, clearly doing the quick math and timing. "Our anniversary was right before the breakup. They're mine?"
He stepped forward, his massive frame trembling slightly, not with anger, but with the sudden, terrifying realization of what he had lost—not just a mate, but an entire family. His voice was laced with a desperate, primal agony.
"Lyra," he pleaded, his hands reaching for her face, "look at me. They are my children. Tell me the truth."
She met his gaze, the tears finally overflowing, streaming down her pale cheeks. "Yes, Ares. They are yours."
The confession was a detonation. Ares didn't speak; he didn't growl. Instead, he let out a choked sound, a sound of profound loss and sudden, overwhelming Alpha possessiveness. He hauled her into his arms, not in a kiss, but in a desperate, crushing embrace, burying his face in her hair, inhaling her unique scent mixed with a faint, underlying, maternal milk-and-powder scent he had never smelled before.
"My children," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "I have children. And you kept them from me."
He pulled back, his eyes blazing with a potent mix of paternal euphoria and cold, terrible anger. The romantic siege was over. The chase had begun.
"Give me the address," he commanded, his Alpha voice now undeniable. "I am going to that house. You and I, Lyra, are going to bring our children home. And then, you and I are going to have a very long discussion about the consequences of keeping an Alpha's heirs a secret."