"Dante!" Ferro’s voice rang out, furious, cutting through the air.
"There are plenty of other won—why her?" Rage burned in his eyes.
He couldn’t understand how Harold’s granddaughter had managed to ensnare his only son like this.
"You can do whatever you please. But you will not put Hale blood into my line." His voice rose as he openly challenged the decision.
When he had reached the fire pit—just as Dante had been about to introduce Lyra—Ferro had frozen. His eyes had widened.
She had looked exactly like Harold. The resemblance had been unmistakable, despite the difference in her eye and hair color.
He had asked Lyra for her grandfather’s na. The mont she said the na, his suspicion solidified.
"Did you hear , Dante?" Ferro demanded.
Dante didn’t bother reacting to his father’s rage.
His expression remained unreadable as he took a long drag from his cigarette and released the smoke slowly.
"She is Ashford... not Hale," he said nonchalantly.
"You—!" Ferro’s blood boiled.
Dante didn’t know the full story between Harold and his father. Frankly, he didn’t care to.
His life was his choice, and he would do whatever he wanted.
He shared his father’s stubbornness, a trait that made them equally unyielding.
"You had no right to stop . Don’t even think about it," he warned, making it clear his father was not to interfere.
"Why don’t you take the front seat and watch your grandchild be conceived?" he added, seeming to enjoy the village’s strange customs, utterly shaless.
He flicked his cigarette aside and crushed it under his boot.
"I’ve wasted enough ti here. If you don’t like it—leave."
He didn’t spare his father a single glance as he headed back toward the fire pit.
"Dante! Co back here!" Ferro barked, his fist clenched tightly the blood drained from his knuckles.
Dante only lifted a hand in a dismissive wave, never once turning around.
Ferro’s jaw tightened. He would not allow it. His bloodline would never mix with Hale’s.
A dark urge surged through him—to erase the woman entirely.
"Ah! Let go of !"
"Shut up!"
Ferro snapped at the sudden commotion rushing toward him.
His n appeared, shoving a woman and a man forward.
Ferro’s brows lifted slightly. As if summoned by his thoughts, she was suddenly there.
"What’s going on?" His eyes landed on them, who had been shoved to the ground.
"They were sneaking around suspiciously..." one of the n replied.
None of his n had co near the fire pit since their arrival, and so they failed to recognize Lyra.
Ferro crouched down. He lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to et his gaze.
"Are you running from Dante?" he asked.
Lyra didn’t answer, but her tense reaction told him enough—she was being forced into this.
And Ferro knew his son well. Dante had never been one to back away from what was forbidden.
If anything, it only made him want it more.
"He kidnapped you, didn’t he? I can help you escape."
Griffin grabbed Ferro’s leg at once. "Yes," he said quickly.
"Please help us. We just want to escape—"
"Griffin!" Lyra snapped, shooting him a sharp glare.
There was no point begging Dante’s father. He would always stand on his son’s side.
Suddenly, everyone flinched as the roar echoed from sowhere in the distance, Lyra’s na tearing through the night.
"He knows you’re missing... we’re dead," Griffin whispered, panic rising.
Ferro straightened abruptly.
"Quick. Get them out of here," he ordered.
Before either of them could react, Ferro grabbed Lyra.
"Move. Now!"
"But my father—" she protested.
"Follow . It’s safer," he interrupted, holding her firmly.
He was confident he could escape easily and make Griffin the scapegoat once Lyra’s disappearance was discovered.
"Go find her father."
Ferro deliberately split Griffin from Lyra.
Amid the chaos, Griffin slipped away, running breathless as he made his way to the jeep, where Alex and ena were waiting.
Their jeep led the way, with Ferro following at a asured distance behind. But not long after, Ferro hastily veered onto a different path, which led in the wrong direction.
Griffin drove based on ena’s directions without looking back until the harbor ca into view
They waited there for Lyra but as the minutes dragged on, she hadn’t appeared.
...
Dante’s rage exploded when he returned and found Lyra gone. The first person he suspected was his own father—the man who despised Lyra the most.
He sprinted back to where Ferro had last been seen, only to catch sight of the jeep already roaring away, trying to escape.
"Stop them!" he shouted to his n. They leapt into their vehicles and gave chase, pursuing Ferro’s jeep from behind.
"Don’t shoot," Dante ordered sharply. He didn’t want Lyra hurt.
When they finally blocked the jeep and surrounded it, Dante’s suspicion was confird. His blood boiled when he saw Lyra inside.
He yanked her out and shoved her toward Stott.
"Take her back to the village," he said, his voice cold.
Stott seized Lyra and dragged her away before forcing her into the vehicle, steering them back toward the village.
Dante barely kept his anger in check, strode toward his father, and shoved him hard, sending him staggering back.
"I told you not to interfere in my affairs."
Ferro grabbed Dante by the collar, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel.
"Have you forgotten who raised you? Who gave you the nerve to shout at ?"
He shoved Dante away.
"That woman is not worthy of being the mother of my grandchild. And if you dare stand against , I will make her suffer for the rest of her life."
Consud by rage, Dante drove his fist forward.
Ferro’s head snapped to the side as the blow cracked through the air, enough to send the old man collapsing to the ground, unconscious.
Dante didn’t spare him another glance.
He left his father to his n and turned back toward the village, struggling to rein in his fury. His mood was utterly ruined.
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