Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 90: Cocoon

Matteo straightened, raising his chin as he stared down at Eira. "I assure you, you don’t need to worry about that. And you’re wrong—anything that concerns Master Aelion is very much our problem. Especially something as serious as this."

"And what exactly is ’this’?" Eira asked sharply, her tone laced with annoyance.

Matteo’s expression remained unreadable. "I’m not sure if you realize it, but no woman—aside from Jania—has ever gotten close to Master Aelion. That wouldn’t be as startling if you weren’t as important to him as you appear to be. For a man like him, someone like you is a liability, Ephyra Allen. A weakness."

He chuckled dryly, his gray eyes gleaming with an unsettling mixture of amusement and disdain. "I mean, you can’t even protect yourself from your stepmother’s abuse." Eira’s fists clenched at his words, her nails biting into her palms. "How do you think you’ll fare when Master Aelion’s enemies find out about you? They’ll see you as an easy target—someone they can kill or manipulate to get to him."

Eira inhaled deeply, forcing herself to relax as she slowly unclenched her fists. "Though your explanation was mind-numbingly boring, I understand the point you’re trying to make. But that still doesn’t justify abducting me. If you had any sense, you could’ve approached me like a normal person and had a conversation. Civilly."

Matteo scoffed, shaking his head. "And what makes you think Master Aelion’s enemies wouldn’t resort to something far worse than this? Do you honestly believe they’d request a polite meeting and ask for your cooperation? No, Ephyra, they wouldn’t."

Eira tilted her head, her smirk returning. "Well, you’re not Lyle’s enemies, are you? And even if they did manage to capture me, what makes you so sure they could use me against him? They might kill me, yes, but who’s to say that would have any real effect on Lyle? He seemed just fine before I came into the picture. I doubt my death would be his undoing."

She leaned back, her voice dropping to a cold, deliberate tone. "Sure, I don’t want to die, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to survive. But don’t you dare assume I’d betray the only person who’s treated me so annoyingly well without even knowing it. You don’t know me, Matteo—or whatever the hell your name is—so don’t talk as if you do."

Matteo’s jaw tightened, his gray eyes narrowing slightly, but he said nothing.

Eira let her gaze sweep across the room, her smirk fading into a hardened expression. "Now, what are these oh-so-important questions you have for me? Let’s get this over with so I can move on with my life."

Matteo raised an eyebrow, his tone even colder. "Forgive me if I find your words difficult to believe. You’re human, after all. And almost every human fears death enough to do whatever it takes to avoid it—even if it means selling their soul to the devil."

Eira’s smirk returned, sharper this time. "You said it yourself—almost. Not all humans fear death. Some of us stare it down without flinching. I happen to be one of those people."

Matteo studied her in silence, his expression unreadable, though his sharp eyes betrayed a flicker of intrigue. "You’re right about one thing—I don’t know you. And that’s exactly why we’re here. So, let’s get started, shall we?" He turned to Samuel. "Samuel?"

Samuel sighed, uncrossing his arms as he stepped forward. "Yeah, I got it." His gaze shifted to Eira, his expression neutral but his eyes brimming with curiosity.

"Ephyra Allen," Samuel began, his voice calm but commanding. "Tell us why you’re so different from the person you were before the accident."

Eira threw her head back with a dry chuckle. So that was their opening question. She had been expecting something like this.

"Alright," she said, her tone laced with mock amusement. "If you already know about the accident, then you must also know I died during surgery and came back to life, right? Tell me this: if a soul dies—gone for good, never to return—and somehow the body still comes back, do you think that person would remain the same?" fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

She paused, locking eyes with Samuel and Matteo before answering her own question. "The answer is no. A soul that returns from death is forever changed. And if the people responsible for that death inflicted unimaginable pain—and trust me, it was excruciating and utterly undeserved—don’t you think that soul would crave revenge? Wouldn’t they change? Wouldn’t they want to rip those people apart? Tear them down piece by piece? Because that’s exactly what I want."

Eira leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering to a dangerous tone. "That’s what shaped me into who I am now. Every tear, every ounce of suffering—they built this Ephyra. The one sitting before you."

Her words carried a mix of lies and brutal truth. Because, in reality, any soul that dies and comes back is never the same. She knew that firsthand.

Matteo and Samuel exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. After a long pause, Matteo nodded. "I see."

Samuel leaned forward, speaking again. "What is your relationship with Master Aelion?"

Eira rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "You know, I answered your first question truthfully. The least you could do is get these straps off my wrists before they cut off my circulation."

Matteo tilted his head toward one of his men. "Untie her."

The man stepped forward without hesitation, undoing the restraints around Eira’s wrists.

"Ah, fuck," Eira muttered, wincing as she rubbed at the red marks on her wrists. She stood up slowly, stretching her arms with an audible crack.

"Answer the question," Matteo prompted again, his tone firm but measured.

"So impatient," Eira murmured under her breath before meeting his gaze. "Alright, our relationship? It’s strictly business. We have a deal. Nothing more, nothing less." She smirked, crossing her arms. "Are you sure you won’t get into trouble for this? I doubt any boss would appreciate their employees sticking their noses where they don’t belong."

Before anyone could respond, a deafening boom shook the entire building. The walls trembled violently, and the floor beneath them quaked.

"What the hell?" Eira muttered, steadying herself as cracks spiderwebbed across the walls.

Then, with an ear-splitting crash, the wall behind her collapsed entirely, sending debris scattering in every direction.

"Shit!" Eira staggered back, shielding her face as chunks of concrete rained down, coughing as a thick cloud of dust enveloped the room.

Her heart pounded as she glanced around, noting the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. This wasn’t an earthquake—it was too precise, too targeted.

She barely had time to process the thought when movement caught her eye. High above the debris, silhouetted against the blinding light of a helicopter hovering outside, a figure leaped through the air, landing gracefully on the edge of the wreckage.

Eira’s breath hitched. Did someone just fly?

The figure straightened, stepping into view. Clad in a black coat draped over his shoulders, with a dark shirt and pants beneath, his hair fluttered in the wind. Violet eyes, glinting with an unnatural silvery light, locked onto hers.

Eira froze, her pulse hammering in her ears.

Lyle.

She took a hesitant step forward, forgetting the chaos, the interrogation, and everyone else in the room. "Lyle—?"

Before she could finish, he closed the distance in a flash, pulling her into his arms. His grip was firm but not crushing, his scent—a blend of cedar and something faintly metallic—wrapping around her like a cocoon.

His voice was low and fierce, vibrating with restrained fury. "Mine," he growled against her ear, "no one touches what’s mine."

They stayed like that for some time until Eir came back to herself.

"The hell. You came?" Eira muttered against his chest, her voice muffled.

Lyle pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his violet eyes scanning her for injuries. His voice was low and smooth, carrying an edge of barely restrained fury. "They touched you."

Eira blinked, her brain struggling to catch up. "What—"

"They. Touched. You." His tone darkened with each word, carrying the weight of promised retribution. Lyle’s gaze shifted to Matteo and Samuel, his eyes sharp and glinting like a predator locking onto prey. Both men went pale, their earlier bravado dissolving into raw fear.

Eira placed a hand on Lyle’s chest, her fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of his shirt. "Relax. I’m fine. You’re overreacting—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Lyle was already across the room. The two men who had led her here were dangling in the air, his hands wrapped tightly around their throats. Their faces were turning an alarming shade of red, their desperate gasps for air drowned out by Lyle’s unyielding fury.

Eira’s mind raced. How the hell did he even figure out who touched me?

But that wasn’t important. Not right now.

"Lyle! Lyle, let them go! You’re going to kill them!" Eira ran to him, grabbing his arm and pulling with all her strength. He didn’t flinch, his grip as unyielding as steel.

"They should die," he growled, his voice deep and feral. "They touched what’s mine."

Eira’s eyes widened at the possessiveness laced in his tone. This wasn’t just anger; it was something darker, something unhinged.

"Lyle, listen to me!" Eira’s voice sharpened, and she stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her. "I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me, okay? Let them go!"

For a moment, his grip tightened, and Eira feared he wouldn’t stop. But then his eyes flicked to her, their intensity softening slightly as if her presence was breaking through the storm in his mind.

"They didn’t hurt you?" His voice was quieter now but still filled with tension.

Eira nodded quickly. "No. They didn’t hurt me. Look, I’m fine. You don’t need to do this."

Lyle’s gaze darted between her and the two men, his jaw clenching tightly. With a low growl, he finally released them. They collapsed to the ground, but they didn’t cough nor did they gasp for air.

They were already dead.