The Wolves' Feast, 124

Cecil, the butler, greeted Damián and Benjamin with his usual reverence, bowing slightly as they entered.

"Mr. Benjamin, Mr. Damián," he said, his voice soft yet firm. "Welcome. Mr. Andrews is in the guest room, waiting for you."

Benjamin nodded, his posture upright and his gaze as attentive as ever. Damián, on the other hand, felt a slight discomfort upon hearing Andrews' name. He still wasn't comfortable with the idea of having a brother and wasn't willing to make an effort to build a relationship that, so far, felt forced.

"Thank you, Cecil," replied Benjamin, his voice steady and authoritative. "We'll meet with Andrews, then."

Damián followed his father to the guest room, where Andrews was sitting in an armchair, holding a glass of whiskey. He stood up when he saw them, a faint smile on his face.

"Father," Andrews greeted, extending his hand to Benjamin. "Damián," he added with a more reserved nod.

Benjamin shook his eldest son's hand with a firm grip, while Damián returned the greeting with an equally reserved nod. The tension between the two brothers was palpable, like a concrete wall—physical and real. Both seemed reluctant to keep up appearances, but Benjamin's presence kept them in balance.

"Andrews," said Benjamin, his voice carrying a mix of pride and sternness. "I'm very pleased. It's a blessing to have our family complete here today."

Andrews smiled, but his eyes didn't reflect the same lightness.

"I came to confirm if you still plan to attend the Corby family gala dinner," he replied, his voice smooth yet formal. "And, of course, to see you. It's not every day we have the chance to be together, since you're always tied up in Williams Valley."

Benjamin studied his son for a moment, as if trying to decipher his true intentions. He knew Andrews didn't follow the family's political path, but he also knew his eldest son had his own ambitions.

"The gala dinner," Benjamin repeated, as if recalling the commitment. "Yes, I still plan to attend. And you, Damián?" he asked, turning to his younger son. "Would you like to join us?"

Damián hesitated, surprised by the invitation. He still wasn't used to the idea of being part of the Williams family, and the prospect of a formal event made him uneasy. However, something in Benjamin's gaze—a mix of expectation and something he couldn't quite name—made him agree.

"Of course," Damián replied, his voice firmer than he expected. "It would be an honor."

Andrews observed the interaction with a calculating look but didn't comment. He knew Benjamin's invitation was more than a mere formality; it was a gesture of inclusion, an attempt to unite the three of them under one roof.

"Great," said Andrews, raising his glass of whiskey. "Then it will be a family evening."

Damián felt a weight in his chest upon hearing those words. *A family evening.* He still didn't know what that meant, but something inside him—an unfamiliar, almost imperceptible feeling—was beginning to form. It was something between the strange and a big question mark, something he wasn't ready to face.

"And Mason?" Damián asked, remembering his friend and looking at Benjamin. "Can he join us?"

Benjamin agreed promptly, but before he could respond, Cecil approached discreetly, his expression impassive.

"Mr. Mason isn't feeling well," Cecil interjected, his voice soft but carrying a certain coldness. "I believe it may be his heat cycle. It's best to let him rest."

Damián felt a chill run down his spine. Mason's heat cycle. He knew that, as an omega, Mason would go through this, but the idea of him suffering alone deeply unsettled him. However, something in Cecil's tone made him hesitate. There was a strange coldness in his words, as if he were trying to prevent Damián from investigating further.

"Is he being taken care of?" asked Damián, his voice now softer but still laced with concern.

Before Cecil could respond, Damián surprised him with a sharp remark that instantly changed the atmosphere in the room.

"He doesn't need an alpha's help," said Damián, his voice firm but carrying an unspoken question that didn't go unnoticed.

Cecil, who rarely showed any emotion, seemed to freeze for a split second. His eyes narrowed slightly as if recalculating his strategy. He hadn't expected Damián, usually so reserved, to be so direct.

Damián then turned to Andrews, his brother, and stared at him intently, as if expecting him to do something. Damián's gaze wasn't one of challenge but of expectation—as if Andrews, being a prime alpha, had an obligation to intervene.

Andrews, who until then had seemed distracted by his glass of whiskey, nearly choked on his drink. He was a prime alpha, accustomed to commanding respect and authority, and Damián's look caught him off guard. It wasn't a gaze of submission or admiration, but something that made him feel reduced to a mere "escort alpha"—as if his only purpose was for intimate matters, not for solving real problems. The insinuation, even if unspoken, was enough to visibly irritate him.

"Damián," Andrews began, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and indignation. "What are you implying?"

Damián didn't respond. He simply kept his gaze fixed on Andrews, as if testing the limits of his brother's patience. The tension between the two was inexplicable, and even Benjamin, who was observing the scene from a distance, seemed at a loss for words during the first real interaction between the two brothers.

It was then that Cecil, always cunning and calculating, realized the situation was about to spiral out of control. He stepped forward, his posture impeccable and his voice soft yet firm.

"Mr. Damián," Cecil interjected, cutting through the tension in the air. "Mr. Mason is already medicated and resting. There's no need for further concern. He's in good hands."

Damián looked at Cecil, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"I hope so," replied Damián, his voice now lower but still carrying a veiled threat.

Andrews, still visibly irritated, took a sip of whiskey, as if trying to calm himself. He didn't like being put in an uncomfortable position, especially by Damián, whom he still saw as a stranger.

Benjamin, who had been silently observing everything, finally intervened.

"Enough," he said, his voice firm and authoritative. "This is not the time for arguments. Damián, I know you're worried about Mason. Let him rest today, and you can visit him tomorrow. For now, let's focus on the dinner."

"Right," said Damián, finally, his voice quieter than he intended. "Let's go to dinner, then."

The main hall of the Corby mansion was a spectacle in itself. Inspired by classic luxury, the space was vast and imposing, with walls adorned in white and gold marble and a vaulted ceiling decorated with frescoes depicting the Corby family's history and political rise. Large crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, shimmering light over the room.

At the center of the hall, a majestic staircase descended toward the main area, split into two symmetrical sides with polished bronze railings. Each step was covered in a deep red carpet, contrasting with the white marble and guiding guests to the heart of the event. The staircase was the focal point of the hall, and all eyes turned to it whenever someone of importance made their entrance.

At the foot of the stairs, an orchestra played softly, creating an elegant and sophisticated atmosphere. Round tables, covered in white linen tablecloths and adorned with lavish floral arrangements, were arranged around the hall. Each place setting was marked by silver cutlery and crystal glasses that gleamed under the light of the chandeliers.

The arrival of the guests was an event in itself. Each important figure descended the staircase slowly, as if on a runway, while a butler announced their names in a clear, loud voice. The audience below murmured in admiration or respect, depending on who was arriving.

Politicians: Prominent figures from the party, dressed in classic tuxedos and evening gowns, descended with confident postures, subtly nodding to the guests. 

Artists: Famous singers and actors brought a touch of glamour to the event, wearing bold outfits and flashing bright smiles, occasionally stopping for photos or greetings. 

Investors: Tycoons and business magnates arrived with an aura of power, their calculating eyes scanning the room for opportunities

When Damián, Benjamin, and Andrews arrived, the entire hall seemed to pause for a moment. Benjamin, in his classic tuxedo and black bowtie, descended the stairs with the upright and confident posture of a former governor. Andrews, by his side, wore an equally impeccable tuxedo but with a striking red tie. Both represented tradition and established power.

Damián, however, stole the show. His liquid-shine navy blue tuxedo reflected the light from the chandeliers, creating a hypnotic effect. The Victorian blouse with ruffles and the black satin bow contrasted with the sobriety of the tuxedos around him, while the black velvet beret and diamond earrings added a casual, artistic touch. He descended the stairs with quiet confidence, his eyes scanning the room with curiosity and a faint smile on his lips.

The dinner was served on fine porcelain plates, with a menu that included delicacies such as lobster, filet mignon, and elaborate desserts. As the guests enjoyed the meal, political conversations and discreet negotiations took place at strategically positioned tables.

**Benjamin:** Circulated among politicians and investors, his imposing presence drawing glances and greetings. He was the unofficial host of the event, and his political experience was evident in every gesture and word. 

**Andrews:** Chatted with businessmen and artists, his natural charm and networking skills making him stand out as a potential future leader. 

**Damián:** Observed everything with a curious gaze but maintained a certain distance. He wasn't there for political games, yet his presence was undeniably magnetic. Several guests approached to greet him, drawn by an enigmatic curiosity about his presence and association with the Williams family.

Oliver Phillips was a natural observer. He was the type of person who could blend in easily but also preferred to stay on the sidelines, analyzing others with a penetrating gaze that seemed to strip souls bare. When he saw Damián arriving, he didn't see just an ordinary omega—he saw the son of a powerful family, someone who carried an aura of fascination, care, and protection… something that awakened a desire for something of high value. Damián evoked both fascination and impulse, and Oliver couldn't help but be drawn to this duality.

Oliver admitted to himself that, given the chance, he might be capable of doing something drastic for Damián. He wasn't an alpha like Adam Kadman, but there was a darkness within him that made him question how far he would go to get what he wanted. He found himself imagining what it would be like to have Damián under his control, to feel the fascination he exuded. These thoughts frightened him but also excited him, and he couldn't escape them. It was as if a primitive part of his mind had awakened, something raw and real that he couldn't ignore.

However, Oliver was also pragmatic. He knew Adam Kadman was an almost insurmountable obstacle. Adam wasn't just an alpha—he was a natural predator, someone who wouldn't hesitate to destroy anyone who dared threaten what was his. Oliver knew the behind-the-scenes stories about Adam, about how he could reduce his enemies to nothing more than memories, devouring flesh and bone. This knowledge made him hesitate, but it didn't stop him from feeding his darker thoughts.

When Damián noticed Oliver's gaze, he gave him a positive nod...

Oliver, in turn, was surprised by Damián's reaction. He expected to be ignored, but instead, Damián greeted him with a smile that would make him approach.

Damián received Oliver's approach with a cordial but calculated smile. He held a glass of red wine, swirling the liquid gently as he spoke. It was a word game for adults; he was looking for clues.

Damián: "Oliver, I didn't expect to see you here. I decided to accompany Benjamin and Andrews… I couldn't resist the invitation." 

(He took a sip of the wine, keeping his gaze fixed on Oliver, as if gauging his reactions.)

Oliver raised his glass of whiskey slightly in a gesture of greeting, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and caution. He leaned forward, his posture relaxed but attentive.

Oliver: "I'm glad to see the Williams family reunited. Life could have been different for you and Aster, couldn't it? But it's never too late to start over. My family is willing to reconsider everything regarding Aster. After all, our union was marked by tragedy, but that doesn't have to define our future." 

He paused, watching Damián with a penetrating gaze, as if trying to decipher his intentions.

Damián kept smiling, but his eyes narrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly. He felt the weight of Oliver's words but didn't let his true intentions show. He wanted to spit out the words, to say that Beatrice Phillips was to blame for everything, but he wanted to destroy her with refined cruelty, the same kind she had shown to two children.

Damián: "You're right, Oliver. Tragedy brought us together in a way, but it also showed us how much we can lose if we're not careful. Speaking of which… how are the investigations into the attack going? Still no news?" 

(He swirled the wine glass again, his long, delicate fingers contrasting with the firmness of his tone.)

Oliver sighed, bringing the whiskey glass to his lips before answering. He seemed to weigh his words, as if deciding how much to reveal.

Oliver: "Nothing new, unfortunately. The investigations seem to be going in circles. But we're doing our part. My family has hired some… professionals to ensure our safety. It was a decision made by my father and me. My mother and sister need peace of mind."

Damián raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. He took another sip of wine, as if needing a moment to process the information. His eyes, however, remained fixed on Oliver, calculating.

As Damián and Dominic conversed, camera flashes erupted in the background, briefly illuminating the hall. Damián didn't visibly mind—he was used to being the center of attention, even if it made him slightly uncomfortable. He was solitary by nature and somewhat paranoid, but he knew how to fake it masterfully. A faint smile formed on his lips, and he continued the conversation as if nothing were happening.

Dominic: "So, Dominic, do you believe the new legislation on omega rights will pass this year? Or is there still too much resistance?"

Damián was about to respond when Andrews approached the group, his relaxed demeanor and a broad smile on his face. He held a glass of whiskey and seemed completely at ease, as if he were at home.

"Dominic, I was wondering when you'd approach. I knew you wouldn't leave your little brother alone among so many wolves."

The conversation continued with topics such as the regularity and consistency of facts, with the motives inspiring the struggles around state power and its citizens, rights, laws, and projects for a better world.