Chapter 88 Vanished
[Nyx]
And just like that, the lightness in the room evaporated.
"What is it?" I asked, though something in her tone made my chest tighten.
"It wasn't an accident." Her hand tightened around mine. "Someone pushed me."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"Who?" The word came out flat, deadly.
"Selene." Lilith's voice cracked. "I turned my head and saw her. Her hand was on my back, and her face—" A sob broke through. "There was no surprise. No panic. Just... satisfaction."
Gold flooded my vision instantly.
My wolf roared to the surface, and I saw Lysander straighten immediately, his body tensing as he watched me.
But before I could move, before I could react—
"Wait." Lilith's grip on my hand became desperate. "Nyx, I'm scared to tell Damon. What if he doesn't believe me? What if he thinks I'm making it up because I'm jealous of his sister, or trying to drive them apart—"
"Lilith." I forced myself to breathe, to push back the rage. "Listen to me. You need to know something before you spiral."
She looked at me with wide, frightened eyes.
"Selene didn't just push you," I said, keeping my voice steady. "After we brought you here, she came to the hospital while you were unconscious. She injected you with ceftriaxone."
Lilith's face went white. "But I'm—"
"Allergic. She knew." I squeezed her hand. "We have security footage. We have her confession. And Damon—" I paused, making sure she was listening. "Damon already knows. He's the one who arrested her."
"What?" The word came out as barely a whisper.
"He chose you," I said firmly. "Over his sister. Over everything. He arrested Selene himself and had her put in maximum security. So when you tell him about the avalanche, he's not going to doubt you. He already knows what she's capable of."
Tears streamed down Lilith's face—relief and grief and love all mixed together.
"Okay," she whispered after a long moment. "Okay. Call him back in. I need to tell him. He deserves to hear it from me."
I opened the door to find Damon already standing there—he'd actually timed the full ten minutes.
"She needs to tell you about the avalanche," I said.
His expression shifted immediately. Without a word, he walked into the room and closed the door behind him.
Lysander appeared at my side, his presence steady and warm.
He's choosing justice over blood, Sylva observed.
Ten minutes crawled by like hours.
When the door finally opened, Damon looked pale. He took one deep breath and said, "I need to see Selene."
Then he left.
---
Two hours later, he returned looking grim.
"About the avalanche... she denies everything. Says Lilith is lying, that Lilith pushed her. Claims the chaos was too intense, that Lilith got confused about what happened."
I laughed—cold and sharp. "She can lie about the avalanche all she wants. But the injection? That's on camera. Hospital security footage, medical records, her own confession when we caught her, and the recording of her attacking me." I crossed my arms. "Attempted murder. Multiple counts. That's ironclad."
"The evidence is solid," Damon agreed. "The attempted murder charge will stand. A trial will take time, but legally, she can't escape." He paused, looking exhausted. "You should both head back to the hotel. Get some rest."
---
Back at the hotel, I barely crossed the threshold before my laptop was open. Three urgent video conferences awaited me, each marked with red exclamation points that made my temples throb.
You need rest, Sylva grumbled.
The company won't run itself.
Two hours of back-to-back meetings later—quarterly projections, supply chain issues, a supplier trying to price-gouge us—my shoulders were up by my ears and my neck felt like concrete.
The laptop screen blurred in front of me. I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on the next quarterly report when—
"Close it."
Lysander's voice came from behind me, followed by the soft clink of a plate being set down beside my laptop.
I turned to find him holding a bowl of strawberries, a small container of whipped cream balanced on the edge. His silver eyes held that mix of concern and determination I was learning meant he wasn't taking no for an answer.
"I'm almost done—"
"You said that an hour ago." He dipped a strawberry in the cream and held it to my lips. "Eat."
The sweet-tart taste exploded on my tongue, and I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast. As I chewed, his hands settled on my shoulders, thumbs finding every knot with devastating precision.
I groaned before I could stop myself.
"That bad?" His voice held amusement, warm breath brushing my ear.
"Worse." I reached for another strawberry, but he moved the bowl just out of reach.
"Not until you close the laptop."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Blackmail?"
"Incentive." His fingers worked deeper into a particularly vicious knot, and my protests died in my throat.
"Fine." I saved my work and shut the laptop with more force than necessary.
"There. Happy?"
"Getting there." He handed me the bowl, then resumed his massage. "Though you're still too tense."
I picked up a strawberry, deliberately loaded it with an excessive amount of whipped cream, then turned in my chair with false innocence. "Am I?"
Before he could respond, I'd flicked the cream-covered berry toward him—not quite at him, but close enough that a dollop of white landed on his collarbone.
He went very still.
"Oops," I said, not bothering to sound sorry.
His eyes darkened from silver to molten steel. "Oops?"
"My hand slipped." I picked up the whipped cream container, shaking it thoughtfully. "These things can be so unstable—"
I didn't get to finish. He moved faster than I expected, catching my wrist. "You want to play, Luna?"
My heart kicked up several notches. "Maybe."
"Dangerous word." His free hand plucked the container from my grip. "Especially when you're the one who started it."
"What are you going to—"
A cool burst of cream hit my collarbone, making me gasp. Then his mouth was there, hot against the coldness, tongue tracing the sweet trail with deliberate slowness.