Chapter 14
Lirael
The abandoned apartment building housed my safe house in the flooded basement. I located the waterproof container I'd sealed three years ago, feeling grim satisfaction my paranoid preparations were proving worth it.
The encrypted laptop powered up fine. Five fake IDs with matching credit cards. Military-grade holographic disguise chip. Bank card linked to an offshore account containing two hundred thousand in cryptocurrency—three years of careful investment and strategic theft from those who'd profited from suffering.
Not bad for a dead girl. Not bad for someone who's supposed to be locked in a cage right now.
The ATM gave me ten thousand cash, split between multiple hiding spots. The electronics store accepted payment without comment, and the boutique barely blinked at hundred-dollar bills, though the sales associate's eyes lingered on my collar before looking away.
Yeah, look all you want. Wonder what kind of freak needs a collar. Wonder what kind of monster I must be.
By the time I settled into a café corner with chocolate cake I wouldn't eat and my laptop open to encrypted communications, I'd assembled tonight's resources and confirmed the genetic lock's pain threshold remained suspiciously manageable—more proof Sebastian's "escape" had been carefully calibrated.
I logged in, and Ethan's response came within seconds.
EK: Moonlit Fish? Is that really you? Where the hell have you been for three years?
If only you knew, Ethan. If only you knew what kind of hell I've been living through while you've been making investments and throwing birthday parties.
MF: Ran into some trouble. It's handled now. I hear you're having a birthday party tonight. Mind if I crash?
EK: Are you kidding? You're the only person I actually wanted to invite. Kane Estate, Moon Hall, starts at 8. Please tell me you're coming.
MF: I'll be there. And Ethan? Thank you for not asking questions.
EK: Everyone's entitled to their secrets. Just... it's good to hear from you. I was worried.
The sincerity made something uncomfortable twist in my chest—reminder that not everyone had betrayed me, that some had valued me for my mind rather than utility.
Don't get soft now. You can't afford emotions. Not tonight. Not when Victoria's about to get everything she deserves.
But I pushed aside the emotional complications anyway.
Focus. Tonight is about Victoria. Tonight is about making that bitch pay.
---
Victoria
The Moon Hall was exactly the kind of pretentious new-money bullshit I'd come to expect from the Kanes—floor-to-ceiling windows, crystal chandeliers that cost more than most houses, enough white roses to make the place smell like a funeral home trying too hard. I'd arrived early because making an entrance required an audience, and I'd positioned myself where the light hit my bare-pink mermaid gown just right.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Every eye in this room is going to be on me tonight.
"Oh my God, Victoria, you look absolutely stunning," Claire gushed, doing that envious sweep that meant I'd nailed it. She and Madison clustered around me—exactly what friends were for, providing the admiring audience that attracted male attention.
"Thank you, darling," I said, letting my voice carry to the men near the bar. "Though honestly, I'm just grateful the Blackwood family connections finally gave me an excuse to wear something appropriate."
Claire's eyes widened. "Wait, you know the Blackwoods? Like, actually know them?"
I allowed myself a mysterious smile I'd practiced until it looked effortless instead of calculated. "Sebastian and I have crossed paths a few times. He's even invited me to Obsidian Tower."
God, that lie feels good. So smooth. So believable.
The lie came smooth as silk—who was going to fact-check? "Though of course, I can't discuss details. He values his privacy."
"Oh my God," Madison breathed, clutching my arm. "Do you think he'll be here tonight?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," I said, heart rate picking up. If Sebastian Blackwood actually showed and I could engineer even a brief conversation, it would cement my status in ways no designer clothes could. "We run in similar circles now."
Soon. Soon I'll be exactly where I belong—at the top, with the Blackwood name attached to mine, with everyone knowing I'm not just some nouveau riche nobody.
Truth was I'd never actually met Sebastian Blackwood, had only seen him once across a charity gala's crowded floor, but my parents had spent three years building connections in supernatural society and I'd learned perception mattered more than reality. If people believed I had access to the Blackwood family, then I effectively did.
I was adjusting my posture for the perfect "accidental" encounter with Ethan when the revolving door opened and she walked in.
For a moment my brain refused to process what I was seeing, because it wasn't possible—Lirael was supposed to be dead or locked in some Genesis Foundation lab being studied like the freak she was, she couldn't be here looking like that, like some dark fairy tale in a black halter dress showing off legs that shouldn't exist on someone who wasn't even fully human.
No. No, this isn't happening. This can't be happening.
But those eyes. Those impossible silver-gray eyes that had haunted my childhood with their wrongness, their ability to make me feel like the ugly one despite every mirror and compliment.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck—
She moved through the room with grace that made every other woman look clumsy, her completely silver hair—when the hell had that happened?—falling straight down her back, and I watched with dawning horror as every male head turned to track her, as conversations stuttered and died, as the entire atmosphere shifted to accommodate her presence.
No. No, no, no—she's supposed to be gone, supposed to be suffering, supposed to be dead, not here stealing my spotlight, not here looking like—
She was walking toward Ethan. Walking toward him with a small smile and a black velvet box in her hands, and he was looking at her like she'd personally hung the moon, his expression transforming to something approaching wonder.
That's mine. He's supposed to be looking at me like that. This is my night, my party, my—