The Tyrant's Stolen Bride-Chapter 131: White and Bound

Lyra stirred from a deep sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open.

She pressed a hand gently to her head, as if by touch she could ease the heavy weight pressing behind her temples.

She tried to sit up, but her body felt unsteady.

A pair of hands caught her. One on her shoulder, the other steadying her arm helping her ease into a sitting position.

Lyra glanced up and saw that it was the chief wife. She placed a pillow behind Lyra’s back for support and handed her a glass of plain water.

She spoke gently in her own language, pointing to Lyra’s hands.

Lyra frowned and raised one hand, staring at the intricate floral patterns drawn across her skin in brown ink.

"What is this?" she asked softly.

The woman pointed to a nearby bowl, then to a cluster of green leaves beside it.

"This pattern... from these leaves?" Lyra asked, gesturing between the bowl, the leaves, and her hand.

The woman nodded.

Lyra nodded back, mirroring the gesture. She understood now—the ink had been made from the leaves.

"But... what is this for?"

The woman only smiled, clearly not understanding her words.

Lyra sighed quietly and brushed the question aside, letting the matter go for now.

Her ears picked up the lively sounds outside. She climbed down from the bed and walked to the window.

Her gaze settled on a fire blazing in the center of the open area. Villagers had begun gathering, forming a wide circle around it.

"Is this the ceremony Dante mentioned?" she murmured to herself.

It looked as though it was about to begin. Then she spotted Dante below. He was staring straight up at her. He waved, but Lyra didn’t return the gesture.

She noticed he had already changed his clothes. His outfit was white, just like hers, though slightly different in style for men and women.

She frowned. She didn’t want to match him. She didn’t want to look like a couple attending the ceremony together.

Stepping away from the window, she searched for the clothes she had been wearing earlier. She checked the entire room, but they were nowhere to be found.

Standing in the center of the room, she tapped her finger against her chin, thinking.

Her eyes drifted to the wardrobe. She opened the doors, scanning the contents.

After a moment, she found another outfit and changed quickly.

A knock echoed at the door. The chief’s wife called from outside.

Lyra opened the door and found Dante standing just behind her, exactly where she didn’t want him.

The chief’s wife stepped inside, set a fruit platter on the table, and lingered.

Dante spoke to her in a low voice. She withdrew immediately, the door closing softly behind her.

His expression hardened as his gaze lingered on her outfit. He took the white garment and pressed it into her hands.

"Put this back on."

"No. I don’t want to."

He caught her before she could move away, leaning in until their faces were only inches apart.

"Put it on," he said, his voice low and commanding.

"No—ah! What?"

Dante tugged at her clothes, ripping the fabric from her shoulder down to her arm.

"No?" His gaze darkened, terrifyingly cold.

Lyra huffed and stormed inside, slamming the door behind her.

When she emerged, Dante was still in the room, seated on the edge of the bed, facing the door.

"Come here." Dante patted the space beside him.

But she stayed rooted to the spot.

Dante smirked. Lyra was still stubborn, even after he had warned her more times than he could count.

He let her have her attitude for now. Tonight, she wouldn’t be able to run from him anyway. He rose to his feet and grabbed her wrist.

"Let’s go. The ceremony is about to start."

Dante led her to a special place that had already been prepared for them.

They sat side by side, while the others joined them but remained seated at a distance. The atmosphere was lively and festive.

Lyra glanced around, curiosity in her voice as she asked, "Does every guest who comes here get a celebration like this?"

Dante shook his head. "No."

Her brows lifted. "Then what makes us special?"

At that, Dante turned and his eyes locked onto hers as a slow smile curved his lips.

"You’ll find out tonight."

A shiver ran down Lyra’s spine. That smile made her skin crawl. She lifted a cup of water and drank, hoping to settle the nausea churning in her stomach.

From a distance, the roar of approaching jeeps drew everyone’s attention. One of Dante’s men hurried over and whispered a report in his ear.

Dante then leaned close to Lyra and murmured, "Wait here. I won’t be long."

Lyra snorted and crossed her arms. "Just go away and don’t come back," she muttered under her breath.

He didn’t hear her. He was already striding toward the newly arrived jeeps. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Curious, Lyra craned her neck, trying to see who had arrived.

Her eyes widened slightly.

An older man stepped out, his features strikingly similar to Dante’s. He stood with his arms crossed, his expression dark and displeased.

...

Ferro didn’t waste a second. The moment the jeep pulled up, he stormed straight toward Dante, eyes blazing.

"I can’t find Kiera anywhere. Everything I’ve found... it all leads back to you. You killed her, didn’t you?"

His voice dropped. "Answer me."

Dante stepped closer. "Yes," he said without hesitation. "So? What are you going to do about it?"

He jabbed a finger into his father’s chest. "You’re the reason she went overboard!" he roared.

Ferro’s frown deepened. "What did she do?"

Dante let out a short, bitter laugh. His eyes darkened.

"You really don’t know? She tried to kill my woman."

Ferro’s anger faltered, the tension between them thick in the air.

He grasped for something to throw back at Dante, but his attention snagged on golden hair gleaming in the firelight.

"Who is that?" Ferro asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Dante’s eyes followed his father’s gaze. He frowned, noticing where Ferro was looking.

"She’s mine. Don’t think you can snatch her from me," Dante said coldly, fully aware of his father’s interest in young women.

He stepped closer, locking their gazes, making sure his father understood. "I chose her to be the mother of my child," he added.

"What?" Ferro’s eyes narrowed. "Camela?"

"No. She’s carrying another man’s child."