Chapter 71
Lirael
"Every insult," he murmured, "every dismissive comment, every plan to circumvent me—I heard it all." His grip tightened. "And you know what the worst part is?"
I shook my head.
"You were right to be afraid." His smile was terrible. "Because now I know exactly how you see me. What you say when you think I'm not listening. And little moon? I'm going to make sure you never feel safe enough to speak that freely again."
My stomach cramped violently. I pressed my hand against my abdomen, letting genuine pain show. "Sebastian—I need the restroom. The stress at the Hartfield estate—"
"Of course." He released me immediately, the sudden solicitousness worse than threats. "Take your time. I'll be right here waiting."
The emphasis on "waiting" made it clear—he'd be watching.
I stood on unsteady legs, forcing myself to walk normally rather than run. The bathroom door felt like temporary safety, though I knew better.
Inside, I locked the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. My reflection showed a woman on the edge—wide eyes, bloodless lips, hair escaping its arrangement.
I looked like prey. Like exactly what I was.
Think. You've survived worse. Eden, Genesis, his initial capture. You can survive this.
I'd handed Sebastian everything about Elena's identity. He knew about Alicia, the branch families, my fear of him. I'd given him ammunition to destroy me.
But—he didn't know everything.
I forced myself to breathe slowly. He knew about "Elena," my vendetta against the Hartfields. But he hadn't mentioned "Moonlit Fish." Hadn't said anything about my hacker identity, my partnership with Ethan, my underground connections. That identity was still secure.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
I pulled out my backup phone—the one Sebastian didn't know about, the one for Nocturne business only.
Five minutes. Maybe five minutes before he gets suspicious.
I opened the encrypted app:
Emergency. Major distraction at Blackwood Tower external security. Triple rate. One hour.
Responses exploded:
Blackwood Tower? Are you insane?
That's the Dark Lord's fortress
I typed rapidly: DDoS on external networks only. Nothing internal. Just enough chaos to trigger level-one protocols. Volume, not penetration.
You're asking us to poke the bear
For triple rate, I'll poke any bear
I'm in. Can retire after this
I authorized the payment, watching my resources drain. It hurt, but survival was worth more than money. The attack would pull Sebastian's attention, force him to handle a security crisis. It wouldn't give me freedom, but it might buy me time.
I deleted the history, powered down the phone, tucked it back into its hiding place. In the mirror, I practiced expressions: confusion, embarrassment, pain. Anything but cold calculation.
Four hours until eight PM. Four hours until the hunting game starts. Just survive until then.
When I emerged, Sebastian sat exactly where I'd left him, hands folded like a patient predator. He'd ordered water for me, ice already melting.
"Better?" Almost kind, which made it worse.
"A little." I slid back into my seat, hands unsteady on the glass. "I think the stress just caught up."
"Understandable." He watched me drink. "You've had quite a day. Bankrupting your foster family, confronting your past, planning war against my relatives—it would take a toll."
The way he said "foster family" carried implications I couldn't unpack. I set down the glass carefully. "Sebastian, I need to explain—"
"We should go." He stood abruptly, pulling out his phone. "You still look pale. Let me drive you home—or wherever you're staying, since you have so many secrets."
No. Getting in a car with him would be suicide.
"That's not necessary," I said too quickly. "I can call a cab—"
"I insist." His hand was on my elbow, gentle but immovable. "After all, we have so much to discuss. Your plans for my aunt, your headaches about me, all those fascinating insights." He leaned close. "And little moon? I want to hear every single one."
Everything was a threat now. I let him guide me because resisting would make it worse, might cost me those four hours I needed.
His car was black, expensive, tinted windows that would hide whatever happened inside. He opened the passenger door with perfect courtesy, and I hesitated just a heartbeat too long.
His smile sharpened. "Something wrong?"
"No." I got in because refusing would accelerate whatever he'd planned. The door closed like a coffin lid.
He started the engine and we drove in silence through afternoon traffic. I tracked our route with paranoid precision. We were heading toward the outskirts, away from where people might hear screaming.
"Thirsty?" He gestured to a sealed juice bottle in the console. "You should hydrate."
Every instinct screamed danger. "I'm fine. Thank you."
"Suit yourself." He set it back, almost disappointed. Then he adjusted the air conditioning, and warmth filled the car. "At least let me make it warmer. You're still so pale."
The heat felt good at first. Too good. My eyelids grew heavy despite the adrenaline, and alarm bells rang even as my body relaxed.
The air. He put something in the air conditioning.
I tried for the window controls, but my arm felt like lead. My vision blurred, city lights streaking together. Sebastian's profile stayed perfectly calm as he drove.
"You really are clever," he said conversationally. "The juice was too obvious. You'd refuse it, just like I knew you would. But you couldn't refuse to breathe."
I tried to speak but my tongue wouldn't cooperate. My head lolled against the seat.
"Sleep, little moon." His voice came from far away. "When you wake up, we'll have that conversation about honesty. "
The last thing I saw was the city limit sign passing—freedom just out of reach, exactly where he'd always kept it.