Chapter 67
Lirael
I stood in the living room at exactly eight o'clock, a maid hovering nearby with a cup of ginger tea that I hadn't asked for and didn't want. Sebastian lounged on the sofa, looking utterly relaxed, as if he hadn't just made a wager that would determine the rest of my life.
"Sebastian," I said, turning to face him with what I hoped looked like genuine concern. "You haven't eaten all day. Let me make you something before I leave. A last meal, so to speak."
His eyes narrowed slightly, suspicious, but I saw interest flicker there too. "You want to cook for me? Now?"
"I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful," I said, the lie sliding smoothly off my tongue. "You're giving me a fair chance, after all. The least I can do is make sure you're fed before I go."
He studied me for a long moment, then smiled that predator's smile. "Alright. But you'll feed it to me. Every bite. By hand."
I swallowed my revulsion and nodded. "Of course."
In the kitchen, I worked quickly, preparing a pan-seared steak with herb butter sauce. And into that sauce, I mixed a careful measure of the herbs I'd been studying all week—a combination that would send even an Alpha wolf into deep, dreamless sleep for several hours. Not enough to harm him, just enough to give me the head start I needed.
When I returned to the living room with the tray, Sebastian had settled back against the sofa cushions, watching me with those predator's eyes. "Come here," he said, patting his thigh. "Closer."
I approached slowly, setting the tray on the coffee table and cutting the steak into precise pieces. Then I speared one with a fork and lifted it to his lips, my hand steady despite my racing heart. He took it slowly, his eyes never leaving my face, chewing deliberately as if trying to taste any deception in the meat.
"Delicious," he murmured after swallowing. "Again."
I fed him piece by piece, forcing myself to remain calm, to meet his eyes and not let my nervousness show. He savored each bite, his gaze intense and possessive, and I wondered if he could sense the herbs in the sauce, if this entire plan was about to blow up in my face.
Finally, the plate was empty. Sebastian leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "That was excellent, little moon. Almost makes me sad to let you go." He stood, stretching. "I'm going to shower. When I come back, I expect you'll still be here, planning your escape route."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and watched as he disappeared into the bedroom. I heard the shower start, heard him moving around, and then—finally—silence. I waited, counting the minutes, until I heard the soft thud of him sitting down, and then nothing.
Moving quietly, I slipped into the bedroom. Sebastian was sprawled on the sofa, head tilted back, eyes closed, breathing deep and even. I approached cautiously, reaching out to pinch his cheek. Nothing. I pinched harder. Still nothing.
A cold smile spread across my face. "You wanted to play word games with me?" I whispered. "Fine. Let me show you what I learned about misdirection."
I changed quickly into black tactical clothing, packed a small bag with essentials, and headed for the door. But instead of trying to sneak past the guards, I went straight to Marcus.
"There's an intruder," I said urgently. "I saw someone in the garden—a shadow moving near the east wall. I think they're trying to get to Sebastian."
Marcus's eyes widened. "Stay here," he barked, and within seconds, the entire security team was mobilizing, flooding toward the garden, leaving the main gate relatively unguarded.
While they searched for a threat that didn't exist, I slipped around to the north wall, pressed my hands against the stone, and felt for the ivy growing on the other side. Grow, I whispered in the old language, and felt the vines respond, surging upward and over the wall, creating a living ladder that I could climb.
Moments later, I was over the wall and dropping down onto the street beyond, breathing in the cool night air and tasting freedom for the first time in weeks. Above me, the moon hung heavy and full in the sky, almost at its peak, and I felt my magic stirring in response, stronger than it had been since the collar was placed around my neck.
I had twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours to disappear completely, to reach the wilderness beyond the city, to win my freedom. And I wasn't going to waste a single second.
I ran.
---
My first stop was the pawn shop three blocks from the eastern district, the one I'd scouted weeks ago during my brief moments of semi-freedom. The owner barely looked up as I presented my claim ticket, just disappeared into the back and returned with a small locked box. Inside: fake identification documents, cash, a small electric stunner I'd purchased on the black market, maps, compass, high-energy food bars, and a first aid kit.
I changed quickly in the shop's bathroom, stuffing my tactical clothes into the bag and pulling on nondescript jeans and a hoodie. The fake ID went into my pocket, the cash into my shoes, the weapons carefully concealed. When I emerged, I looked like any other young woman out for a late-night walk, nothing special, nothing worth noticing.
The motel on the edge of the warehouse district was exactly the kind of place that didn't ask questions if you paid in cash. I checked in under my false name, locked the door behind me, and finally—finally—allowed myself to breathe.
My laptop came out of the bag, and I booted it up, connecting to the encrypted communication software that linked me to Nocturne. Within seconds, a message popped up from Damian: Celeste is safe. Are you?
My fingers flew across the keyboard: Executing Plan B. I need backup tomorrow.
His response came almost immediately: I'll have people positioned outside the city to extract you. But Sebastian won't let this go.
I know, I typed back. But I can't stay. Not anymore.
I spent the next hour poring over maps, but my finger kept drifting away from the escape routes toward the wilderness, circling instead around a different location entirely. The Hartfield estate. Victoria's family mansion, with its manicured gardens and its facade of respectability built on blood money—my blood, my pain, the Moon Dew they'd harvested from me for years before selling me to Genesis.
I pulled up the financial records I'd been quietly compiling for months, the evidence I'd gathered through Nocturne's network. The Hartfields had used the fortune they'd made from exploiting me to establish themselves in Ark City's elite circles, buying their way into charity galas and exclusive clubs, playing at being philanthropists while their wealth was soaked in my suffering. And Victoria—beautiful, cruel Victoria—had used that money to build her perfect life, never once looking back at the girl she'd tortured as a child.
A cold calculation settled over me as I stared at the screen. I had twenty-four hours before Sebastian would come hunting for me with the full force of the Onyx Guard. Twenty-four hours that I could spend running, hiding, trying to disappear into the wilderness where I'd always be looking over my shoulder, always wondering when he'd find me again.
Or I could spend those hours settling a debt that was ten years overdue.
I opened a new message to Damian: Change of plans. I'm not running. Not yet.
His response came after a long pause: What are you planning?
Collecting a debt, I typed. The Hartfields owe me ten years of interest.
Another pause, longer this time. Then: You're going after Victoria.
I'm going after all of them, I corrected. But I'll need help. Can Nocturne provide backup?
The cursor blinked for several heartbeats before his response appeared: This is dangerous, Lirael. If Sebastian finds you before you finish—
Then I'd better work fast, I interrupted. Are you in or not, Damian?
A final pause, and then: I'm in. Send me the details. But after this, you disappear. No more playing games with Sebastian Blackwood.
I smiled grimly at the screen, my silver-gray eyes reflecting the laptop's glow. After this, I won't need to. The Hartfields took everything from me when I was a child. Tomorrow , I'm taking it all back.