Chapter 3
Lirael
"I—" I started, but my voice came out as barely a whisper, my throat tight with terror and three years of deliberate silence making speech feel foreign and strange. I'm sorry, I didn't—I was running—I didn't see—
"Why?" he said, and something shifted in his expression, his eyes narrowing as he took in my appearance for the first time—really looked at me, at my torn white dress and bare feet, at my tangled silver hair and the delicate features that even three years of captivity and starvation rations hadn't managed to completely erase. "From what, exactly?"
Before I could answer, the guards burst into the clearing.
There were four of them, breathing hard from the chase, their shock batons crackling with electricity as they fanned out to surround me. The lead guard—a massive man with a scar bisecting his left eyebrow—pulled up short when he saw the stranger, and I watched his expression shift from predatory satisfaction to something approaching nervousness.
"Sir," he said, his tone respectful in a way that made my blood run cold. They know him. They know who he is, and they're afraid of him. "We apologize for the disturbance. This specimen escaped from Eden Base during the system update. We'll have her back in custody immediately and out of your way."
Specimen. The word hung in the air like a curse, and I watched the stranger's eyes flick from the guards to me and back again, his expression unreadable.
"Specimen," he said softly, and there was something in his voice that made the lead guard shift his weight uncomfortably. "What kind of specimen?"
"S-Class, sir," the guard said, and I heard the reluctance in his voice, the knowledge that he was giving away information he probably shouldn't. "Lunar Elf. Extremely valuable. The Foundation has been holding her for three years—she's critical to several ongoing research projects. We really do need to get her back immediately."
I watched the stranger's face as he processed this information, watched something predatory and calculating slide behind those amber eyes as he looked at me again—really looked this time, taking in the silver mole at the corner of my right eye, the way moonlight seemed to cling to my skin like a second shadow, the pointed tips of my ears barely visible beneath my tangled hair.
Lunar Elf.
I saw the exact moment he understood what I was worth, what possessing me would mean. It was there in the slight widening of his eyes, the minute shift in his posture from angry to interested, like a collector who'd just stumbled across a masterpiece in a junk shop.
No. No, don't—
"I see," he said slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. "And this... specimen... just happened to destroy a private memorial. One that holds significant personal value."
The lead guard's expression tightened. "Sir, we understand this is unfortunate, but the Foundation will of course compensate you for any—"
"No."
The single word cut through the air like a blade, sharp and final. The guards exchanged nervous glances, and I felt my stomach drop.
"Sir?" the lead guard tried again. "With all due respect, she's Foundation property. We have legal claim—"
"She destroyed something irreplaceable," the stranger said, his voice dropping to something that was almost a purr, and I watched with growing horror as he moved closer to where I still knelt among the scattered flowers. "Something that belonged to my dead brother. Tell me—does your Foundation have a policy for compensating that kind of loss?"
The guards looked at each other, clearly uncertain. The lead guard's hand moved toward his radio, probably to call for backup or instructions, but the stranger's eyes flicked toward him with such sharp intensity that his hand froze mid-motion.
"I think not," the stranger continued, reaching down to grip my chin, forcing my face up to meet his gaze. His touch was cold, controlled, and absolutely terrifying in its gentleness. "I think instead, I'll keep her. Consider it... restitution for my loss."
"Sir, we can't just—" the lead guard started, but the stranger cut him off with a look that could have frozen blood.
"Are you going to tell me," he said softly, dangerously, "that I can't claim compensation for damages done on my own property? Because last I checked, this entire northern cliff is Blackwood land. Which means she trespassed on my territory, destroyed my memorial, and is therefore my problem to deal with."
Blackwood. The name hit me like a physical blow. Oh, Christ. Oh, fuck. He's not just any Alpha—he's one of the Triad. One of the three most powerful werewolf families on the West Coast. And I just crashed into his dead brother's shrine like a fucking wrecking ball.
The lead guard's face had gone pale, and I knew we'd both just realized the same thing: the Foundation might be powerful, might have money and connections and lawyers who could argue the legality of supernatural trafficking until everyone involved was dead of old age, but they didn't have the kind of power that came from being one of the Triad families. That kind of power didn't bother with courts or laws or polite negotiations.
That kind of power just took.
"Of course, sir," the lead guard said finally, his voice carefully neutral. "We'll... inform the Foundation of the situation. I'm sure they'll want to discuss proper compensation with you directly."
"I'm sure they will," the stranger—Sebastian, I remembered with a jolt, Sebastian Blackwood—said, his hand still gripping my chin, keeping my face tilted up toward his. "In the meantime, I'll be taking custody of her. You can go."
It wasn't a request.
The guards left, their footsteps fading back into the jungle, and I was alone with a predator who now knew exactly what I was and exactly how much I was worth. His thumb brushed across my lower lip in a gesture that should have been tender but felt like a threat, and when he smiled, it didn't reach his eyes.
"Well then, little Elf," he murmured. "It seems we have some things to discuss. Starting with exactly how you're going to repay your debt to me."