Chapter 99
Lirael
"Excuse me," I murmured. "I need to... I need to use the restroom."
His eyes sharpened immediately. "Can it wait?"
I manufactured a look of embarrassed distress. "I don't... I don't think so."
I saw the exact moment he made his decision.
"Marcus," he called. "Escort her to the ladies' room. Check it first. Make sure there are no windows, no secondary exits, nothing that could be used as an escape route."
Of course he'd think of that.
Marcus checked the ladies' room with military efficiency—opening stall doors, examining windows, assessing potential threats.
"It's secure," he finally announced. "I'll wait right here. Don't take too long."
I slipped inside.
I moved quickly to the last stall. 7:44 PM. I had exactly one minute before—
The outer door opened.
"Lirael? It's me. Celeste."
Relief flooded through me. I opened the stall door to find her dressed in a cleaning service uniform, holding a small bag.
"You're late," she said. "Damian was starting to worry."
"I'm here now," I said, already reaching for the bag. "Did you bring everything?"
She nodded, producing the holographic disguise unit. "It's programmed for Sophia's appearance. You'll have about four hours before it needs to be recharged."
The disguise unit activated with a soft hum. In the mirror, Sophia's face looked back at me.
"The perfume," I said, and Celeste handed over the small vial. I sprayed it liberally, masking my natural scent.
"What do I do?" Celeste asked, already changing into the dress I'd just discarded. "When they come looking?"
"You're a cleaning service employee who came in to restock supplies," I said. "You saw someone in the last stall but didn't pay attention. If they press, you get flustered and apologetic and completely useless as a witness."
She nodded.
"Thank you," I said. "For doing this. For taking this risk."
"Just don't get caught," Celeste replied. "Make it count."
I checked my reflection one final time and felt something settle in my chest that might have been determination or might have been grief.
I'm sorry.
Then I stepped out into the hallway where Marcus waited.
He barely glanced at me as I passed—just another elegant guest emerging from the restroom—and I felt a surge of vicious triumph.
I'm free. For the first time in four days, I'm actually free.
---
The ballroom felt different now—full of possibilities rather than threats. I moved through the crowd with Sophia's practiced grace.
I did it. I walked right past Marcus and he didn't even notice.
Damian was still near the buffet table. Our eyes met, and I saw relief flash across his features.
"Damian," I said softly as I reached his side.
"Lirael," he murmured back. "You made it."
"Did you doubt me?"
"Always." But there was affection beneath the words. "The surveillance feeds are looped. The guards have been... distracted. And Elwin's team is in position at the east garden gate."
Perfect.
"How long do we have?"
"Forty-five minutes from my signal," Damian replied. "Which means—thirty-two minutes until extraction. Can you get to the east gardens without attracting attention?"
"I can try. But if Sebastian realizes I'm gone before then—"
"He won't," Damian interrupted. "Celeste knows what to do. She'll buy you the time you need."
At what cost?
"Lirael." Damian's hand brushed against mine, brief and careful. "Are you sure about this? Because once you walk out that door, there's no coming back. Sebastian will destroy everything to find you. You know that, right?"
"I know."
But the alternative was staying. Was accepting the dampening collar and the gene-lock and the absolute control. Was pretending that four days of manufactured intimacy could somehow erase three years of captivity.
Better to die free than live as someone's treasured possession.
"I'm sure," I said. "I'm—"
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
The voice came from behind me, and I felt my blood turn to ice as I turned to find an elderly wolf watching us with sharp, assessing eyes.
"Father," Damian said smoothly. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Clearly." Theodore Gray turned his attention to me. "And who is this lovely young lady? I don't believe we've been introduced."
Shit.
"Sophia Thornwood," I said, offering my hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Gray."
"Lord Gray," he corrected gently. "And the honor is mine. Any friend of my son's is welcome in our family."
"Grandmother asked me to extend her invitation," I said, pulling from fragments of information I'd gathered. "She'd love to have you for tea next week."
Theodore's expression softened. "Marguerite is well, then? I'm delighted to hear it. Please tell her I'd be honored to accept."
Thank god. It worked.
"Actually," Theodore continued, "I was just about to seek out Lord Blackwood. Perhaps you'd like to come with me? I'm sure he'd be delighted to meet such a charming young lady."
No. Anyone but him.
But Damian was already nodding. "What an excellent idea. I'm sure Sophia would be honored."
Traitor.
But I understood the logic—refusing would be suspicious, would raise questions, would potentially blow my cover.
So I manufactured Sophia's gracious smile and let Theodore offer me his arm.
The most dangerous place is the safest place. He'll never expect me to walk right up to him.
But my hands were shaking as I clutched my champagne flute.
Twenty-eight minutes. Just twenty-eight more minutes.
Then Theodore was clearing his throat, and Sebastian was turning, and I found myself face to face with amber eyes that I'd seen soften with tenderness and harden with rage.
He was holding a wine glass—the same deep red I'd helped him select—and his expression was one of cool indifference as his gaze swept over me.
He doesn't recognize me. He's looking right at me and he doesn't see me at all.
Which should have been exactly what I wanted.
So why did it make my chest ache?
"Lord Blackwood," Theodore said. "Allow me to introduce Miss Sophia Thornwood. A delightful young lady and a friend of my son's."
Sebastian's eyes flicked to me with all the warmth of a winter storm. "Miss Thornwood. A pleasure."
Sophia's beautiful. And he's looking at her like she's wallpaper.
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Blackwood," I said, channeling Sophia's cultured tones.
"Sebastian here is the finest Alpha this city has to offer," Theodore continued. "Most handsome, most accomplished, most—"
"You're too kind, Theodore," Sebastian interrupted, but his attention was already drifting, his eyes moving toward the eastern corridor with a frown.
Eight minutes. He's been waiting eight minutes and he's already starting to panic.
Theodore was still talking, but I could see Sebastian's attention fracturing, his gaze darting between the conversation and the bathroom corridor.
He's worried. Actually worried. About me.
And because I was apparently a glutton for punishment, I did something monumentally stupid.
I stepped closer.
"Lord Blackwood," I said, letting my voice take on a flirtatious lilt, "I've heard so much about you. Your reputation precedes you."
I lifted my champagne glass in a toast.
"Would you do me the honor of sharing a drink?"
Sebastian's eyes locked onto mine, and for one heart-stopping moment I thought he'd seen through the disguise.
But then his expression shifted to something cold and dismissive.
"I'm afraid I must decline," he said. "I'm waiting for someone."
Me. You're waiting for me. And I'm standing right in front of you.
But out loud, I just manufactured a look of disappointed understanding and took a sip of my champagne alone, watching Sebastian's attention drift back to the bathroom corridor.
Twenty-five minutes. Just twenty-five more minutes.
But my hands were shaking as I lifted my champagne glass to my lips.
And I couldn't quite meet Sebastian's eyes as he glanced my way one final time before dismissing me entirely and returning his attention to the corridor where he thought his broken, devoted wife was still hiding.