Chapter 32 I NEED YOUR HELP, IVANA
AVRIELLE'S POV
I crashed onto the expansive, silk-covered bed, my body aching in places I hadn’t even realized were bruised. The mattress, far too soft for a woman who had just been crawling through dirt and blood, felt like it was trying to swallow me whole. I couldn’t let it. I couldn’t let the exhaustion win.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Adrian’s face—pale, terrified, and broken under the weight of Xavier’s cold justice. I saw the whip. I saw the dungeon walls. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a desperate bird trapped in a cage of bone. I had to save him. I had to. It wasn't just about his life; it was about the truth. It was about the fact that if I let Xavier kill him, a piece of my own soul would wither away.
Xavier... he was a different kind of monster. He was the frost that killed the harvest, the silence before a landslide. I didn't know what he would do next. He had given me twenty-four hours, but in the world of the Devil Alpha, twenty-four hours could be an eternity or a heartbeat.
A sharp, rhythmic knock startled me, pulling me from the dark spiral of my thoughts. I sat up too fast, a hiss of pain escaping my lips as the wound on my side protested.
"Come in!" I yelled, my voice sounding thin and ragged in the high-ceilinged room.
The door creaked open, and Elena stepped inside. She looked small, her shoulders hunched as if she were trying to hide from the very air of the manor. In her hands, she clutched a heavy wooden first-aid box, her knuckles white. She didn't look me in the eye at first; her gaze was fixed on the expensive rug, her face a map of vivid, agonizing guilt.
I knew that look. She was drowning in the regret of helping me escape, terrified of the Alpha’s shadow that now loomed over both of us. She had risked everything for me, and I had led her straight back into the lion’s den.
"Mistress" she whispered, her voice trembling. "The Alpha... sent me. He said I was to treat your wounds and ensure you were in clean clothes. He was very specific that you shouldn't be left alone until you were... settled."
I just nodded, the movement stiff. I didn't have the words to comfort her, not when my own mind was a battlefield.
Elena helped me out of the wet, ruined dress I was wearing—the one Xavier had practically drowned me in during that suffocating encounter in the shower. Her touch was gentle, but I felt like a porcelain doll being handled by someone who expected it to shatter at any second. As she cleaned the wound on my side, the sting of the antiseptic became a welcome distraction from the mental agony.
She worked in silence, and for that, I was grateful and afterwards she draped a fresh dress over me.
"You can go now, Elena," I said, my voice intentionally cold. I hated the way it sounded, but I couldn't look at her anymore. Every second she stayed in this room was another second she was tied to my chaos. I couldn't involve her in whatever desperate plan was forming in my head. I couldn't be the reason she ended up in the dungeon next to Adrian.
She hesitated, her mouth opening as if to offer a word of support or perhaps a warning, but I turned my back on her. I heard her let out a soft, shaky breath before the door clicked shut.
I was alone again.
I fell back onto the bed, staring at the ornate molding on the ceiling. Twenty-four hours. The clock was ticking, the seconds bleeding away like the life from a terminal wound. How do you prove an innocence that everyone has already decided is a lie? How do you fight a man who controls the very air you breathe?
Ivana.
The name sparked in my mind like a match in a dark cellar. If Adrian had been planning something—a romantic surprise, a gesture, anything—Ivana would know. She was the shadow in our marriage, the woman who had replaced me in his bed and his heart. If there was a secret, she was holding the key.
And then there was the vendor. If Adrian had bought something according to the paper trail. A witness. Someone who could testify that his intentions were pure, not treasonous.
I sat up, the adrenaline finally overriding the dull thud of pain in my side. I couldn't sit here. I couldn't wait for the sun to go down and the executioner to wake up. I ran my fingers through my damp hair, tugging at the knots, trying to ground myself.
I stood up, my legs feeling like lead but my heart racing with a new, frantic purpose. I swung the bedroom door open and practically ran down the grand staircase. My boots clicked sharply against the marble, a frantic countdown.
I reached the heavy oak doors of the manor and pushed through them, the cold afternoon air hit me instantly. I started toward the main gate, my mind already miles away, picturing the house I used to call home.
SCREECH.
The sound of burning rubber tore through the quiet of the courtyard. I shrieked, my feet skidding on the gravel as a black sedan swerved violently, stopping mere inches from my knees. The heat from the engine rolled off the hood in waves. If I hadn't jumped back, I would have been pinned beneath the chassis.
My heart was in my throat, pounding so hard I felt dizzy. "Are you insane?" I screamed at the tinted windshield.
The driver’s side door opened slowly. A man stepped out, leaning his weight against the frame with a casual, maddening indifference. I recognized him instantly—Xavier’s personal driver. He was a silent fixture in the Alpha’s life, a man I rarely saw speak, yet he was always there, a shadow behind the wheel.
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, flicking a silver lighter with a steady hand. He took a long drag, the smoke curling around his face as he watched me through narrowed eyes.
I felt a surge of white-hot rage. Of course. Xavier wouldn't just give me twenty-four hours; he would put me in a cage and call it a favor.
"I know why you're here!" I snapped, my voice shaking with fury. "Xavier sent you to stop me, didn't he? He told you I’m 'injured' or 'unstable.' Well, tell him I’m fine! I’ve been treated, I’ve been dressed, and I am leaving! You can't keep me here like a prisoner while you decide when to kill the person I care about!"
I ranted for what felt like minutes, pouring all my fear and frustration into the silent man standing before me. I expected him to move, to block my path, or to pull out a phone and report my defiance to the Devil himself.
Instead, he just waited. He finished his cigarette, ground it out beneath the heel of his boot, and finally looked at me.
"The Alpha asked me to take you wherever you might like to go," he said. His voice was deep, gravelly, and entirely devoid of judgment.
I froze. My mouth remained slightly open, the next insult dying on my tongue. The wind caught a stray hair and whipped it across my face, but I didn't move.
"He... he said that?" I stammered.
The driver didn't answer. He simply walked to the rear passenger door and held it open. His expression was a blank slate, but the gesture was undeniable.
I swallowed hard, a wave of shame washing over me. I had spent the last hour painting Xavier as the ultimate jailer, convinced he was suffocating my every move. And yet, here was the car. Here was the freedom I claimed he was stealing. I felt a confusing, painful tug in my chest—a flicker of something that felt dangerously like gratitude, which I quickly smothered. I couldn't afford to be grateful to the man who held Adrian’s life in his hands.
I got into the car, the leather cool against my skin. The driver climbed back into his seat, and without a word, we hit the road.
As the manor disappeared in the rearview mirror, I tried to focus. I tried to shut out the memory of Xavier’s hand on my stomach, the way his voice had sounded in the shower, and the cold, icy logic of his accusations. I had to focus on Adrian.
My mind was a mess of "what ifs" and "hows." Had I misjudged Xavier? No. He was still the man who would execute his own blood without a second thought. But why give me the car? Was it a test? Or was it his way of letting me watch my own failure?
The car eventually slowed, the tires crunching on the familiar cobblestones of a neighborhood I had hoped never to see again. We pulled up to the gates of the home that used to be mine. The house where I had spent years trying to be a perfect wife, only to be discarded like yesterday's trash.
I stared at the front door, my stomach twisting into a knot. I thought I would never step foot here again.
I pushed the car door open and stepped out. My legs felt shaky, but I forced myself to walk toward the gate. I pushed it open—it creaked, a lonely, neglected sound—and marched up to the front door.
My hand hovered over the doorbell. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. If I was wrong about this, if there was no evidence here, Adrian was as good as dead.
I pressed the bell. Then I knocked. Then I rang it again, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Please be here. Please have a secret.
After several agonizing minutes, the doorknob shifted. The heavy wood was pushed open slowly, and there, standing in the entryway of the house that was once my sanctuary, was Ivana.
She looked exactly the same—flawless, smug, and wearing a silk robe that I recognized. It was one I had bought for myself, a gift I’d never had the confidence to wear.
Her eyes widened as they landed on me, a flicker of genuine shock crossing her face before it was replaced by a slow, venomous smirk.
"Well, well," she purred, leaning against the doorframe. "If it isn't the Alpha’s little stray. I heard you were busy playing hero in the North. What’s the matter, Avrielle? Did the Devil get tired of your nagging already?"
I felt the familiar spark of hatred, but I pushed it down. I didn't have time for her games.
"I need a favor from you Ivana" I said, my voice surprisingly steady.