Drake turned a predator’s stare on Iris. “We’re done here, Mrs. Lafont-Mercier. And if you’re not willing to abide by my decisions, you are welcome to leave the lair. In fact, you have no choice but to leave the lair.”

“This is my home, not yours.” Iris leapt to her feet, clutching her handbag like a weapon. She glared at Armande, clearly expecting him to come to her aid.

“Not if you don’t accept the leadership. Of course you could always push your son to challenge me. I would kill him, but maybe that’s what you want. You don’t seem to listen to him even when he gives you the truth.”

Iris’s eyes brimmed with tears. She sank back down and looked helplessly for a tissue. “That’s a horrible thing to say to me. I love my son—my children. He came home so broken. He’s not a fighter. He wasn’t raised to be so—so crass. He has a good position in our company and works hard. Remy Boudreaux is a bully. Everyone is afraid of him. All the Boudreaux boys grew up rough. You don’t know because you’ve just arrived here. Saria will tell you that I’m tellin’ the truth. Everyone is afraid of her brothers.”

Saria leaned toward Iris, open sympathy on her face. “My brothers are rough, Iris, that’s true, but you know they’re just. Remy would never touch anyone, least of all Armande, who we count as a friend, unless he was provoked.”

Iris scowled at her son. “What did you do?” Her lower lip trembled.

Armande looked down at the ground.

“This matter has been resolved to everyone’s satisfaction, Mrs. Lafont-Mercier,” Drake said. “Your son took his punishment like a man and earned the respect of the lair. I understand why a mother would be distraught seeing her son broken and bruised, but some things are better left alone. Armande is a grown man and shouldn’t have to talk about certain things with his mother—especially if he’s paid the price for a mistake and everyone else has let it go.”

“But I’m responsible . . .” Iris trailed off when Drake shook his head.

“No, ma’am, you’re not. Armande is a grown man and subject to all the laws of the lair. You’ve done your part in raising him. He’s a good man by all accounts and you should be proud of yourself—but he has to stand on his own two feet now. No man within the lair is going to respect him if they believe he’s hiding behind his mother’s skirts.”

Iris’s frown was more of a beautiful pout. “I suppose you’re right, but I do believe Remy used excessive force.” She glared at Saria. “And I’ll always believe that. Remy despises my son because he’s so charmin’.”