Chapter 207 CHAPTER 207
Miss Blackwood was seated in the teachers’ lounge when they found her.
The room, usually a quiet refuge for staff between lessons, had an uneasy stillness to it as the guards entered. A few teachers who had been present quickly rose from their seats, confusion flickering across their faces at the sight of armed authority stepping into a space that had always been considered safe.
Miss Blackwood did not rise immediately.
She remained seated, though her hand—resting lightly on the table—tightened ever so slightly. It was a small movement, easy to miss, but not invisible. Her gaze lifted slowly, meeting Liam’s as he stepped into the room, his presence commanding, his expression unreadable.
For a brief moment, something passed through her eyes.
Not defiance.
Not yet.
Something closer to alarm.
Then it was gone.
Two of the guards positioned themselves on either side of her desk.
“What is the meaning of this?” she asked, her voice measured, though it carried a tension that did not quite match the calm she tried to project.
Liam did not answer her immediately.
He simply watched her.
The silence stretched for a heartbeat too long, and in that silence, something in her posture shifted again—subtle, restrained, but there.
He had seen enough.
“Miss Blackwood,” he said at last, his voice even, controlled. “You’ll need to come with us.”
A flicker of resistance crossed her face.
“I’m in the middle of my duties,” she replied, her chin lifting slightly as she rose to her feet. “If this is about the lockdown, I’ve already complied with…”
“It’s not a request,” Liam interrupted, his tone sharpening just enough to cut through her words.
The room fell quiet.
Miss Blackwood held his gaze for a moment longer, as though weighing her options, before something in her expression hardened.
“Very well,” she said.
But as she stepped forward, Liam caught it again - that same undercurrent beneath her composure.
Fear.
Carefully hidden.
But present.
They took her to a smaller office within the administrative wing, a space often used for private meetings. The door closed behind them with a quiet finality, sealing the room in a tense, controlled silence.
Miss Blackwood sat across from Liam, her posture straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap as if she were simply attending another formal discussion.
But Liam was not watching her posture.
He was watching everything else.
The slight tension in her shoulders.
The way her fingers pressed just a little too tightly against each other.
The faint hesitation before every controlled breath.
She was trying to appear composed.
Trying very hard.
But she was not calm.
Not truly.
Aeron stood off to the side, his presence firm and observant, while one of the guards remained near the door.
Liam leaned slightly forward, his gaze fixed on her.
“We reviewed the footage,” he said.
Miss Blackwood did not react immediately.
But her fingers tightened again.
“You were seen taking a phone from the tray during your class this morning,” Liam continued. “Isabel’s phone.”
This time, she did not deny it.
Instead, she exhaled slowly, her lips pressing together before she spoke.
“Yes,” she said.
The admission was simple.
Too simple.
“I took it,” she added, lifting her chin slightly. “And I sent the message.”
The room went still.
Aeron’s gaze sharpened.
The guard shifted slightly near the door.
Liam did not move.
His eyes remained on her, searching.
“Why?” he asked.
Miss Blackwood’s expression changed then—not into fear, not into guilt, but into something sharper.
Colder.
Something that resembled defiance.
“Because she doesn’t belong here,” she said.
The words were steady.
Deliberate.
“She doesn’t deserve to be at Lunaris,” she continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “She lived as a servant, did she not? And now she walks these halls as though she has always belonged here, as though she is above everyone else simply because of her blood.”
Lisa’s face flashed briefly in Liam’s mind.
He said nothing.
Miss Blackwood leaned forward slightly now, her gaze narrowing.
“Titles don’t change what someone is,” she went on. “You can dress her in royalty, give her guards, give her a throne—but she will always be what she was.”
There it was.
Bitterness.
Resentment.
Carefully nurtured.
“And that justifies what you did?” Liam asked quietly.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
Too quickly.
Too firmly.
And yet—
Liam could feel it.
Beneath the sharpness of her words, beneath the posture she was trying to maintain, something was trembling.
Her heartbeat was uneven.
Her scent carried tension.
Her fear was still there.
Hidden.
But undeniable.
She was performing.
“Say it again,” Liam said.
Miss Blackwood blinked.
“What?”
“Say it again,” he repeated, his voice lower now, more focused. “Tell me that is the only reason you did this.”
For a moment, her composure faltered.
Just for a second.
Then she straightened again.
“That is the reason,” she said.
But this time—
There was the slightest break in her voice.
Liam saw it.
He leaned forward, his gaze hardening.
“No,” he said quietly. “It isn’t.”
Silence fell.
Miss Blackwood’s eyes flickered, just for a moment, before she forced them steady again.
“I’ve already told you everything,” she replied.
“You’ve told me what you want me to hear,” Liam corrected.
Her jaw tightened.
“I have nothing more to say.”
Liam studied her for a long moment.
Then he leaned back slightly, his expression settling into something colder.
“Take her,” he said.
The guard stepped forward immediately.
Miss Blackwood’s head snapped toward him.
“What?” she said, a trace of real alarm breaking through now. “You can’t—”
“You’ll be transferred to Mooncrest prison,” Liam said, his voice firm and final. That hit.
Harder than anything else.
For the first time, her composure cracked visibly.
Only for a moment.
But it was enough.
“As you wish commander,” she said quickly.
But the words came too fast.
Too defiantly, like it was rehearsed.
Liam didn’t respond.
He simply watched her.
And in that silence, her certainty wavered again.
“Take her,” he repeated.
The guard took hold of her arm, guiding her toward the door. This time, she did not resist, but the tension in her body had changed.
The defiance was still there.
But the fear had grown stronger.
As the door closed behind her, the room fell quiet once more.
Aeron exhaled slowly.
“She confessed,” he said. “That should be enough.”
Liam’s gaze remained fixed on the door for a moment longer.
“No,” he said quietly.
Aeron looked at him.
“She admitted to taking the phone,” Liam continued. “To sending the message.”
He turned slightly, his expression thoughtful, troubled.
“But she didn’t tell us everything.”
Aeron’s brows drew together.
“You think she’s covering for someone?”
Liam’s jaw tightened.
“I know she is. Let’s keep this to ourselves for now.”
Aeron nodded without a word.
Later, when the tension had eased just enough for them to step away from the interrogation, Lisa and Isabel found themselves alone for a moment in the quiet of the infirmary.
The silence between them was not uncomfortable.
But it was heavy.
“I don’t understand,” Lisa said softly, her fingers loosely clasped in her lap. “She was a good teacher.”
Isabel nodded faintly, her gaze distant.
“She was,” she agreed. “She never treated anyone unfairly. She was strict, but… fair.”
Lisa frowned slightly.
“Then why would she do something like this?”
Isabel didn’t answer immediately.
Her thoughts moved slowly, carefully, piecing together what she had seen, what she had felt.
Then she spoke.
“Because we didn’t really know her,” she said quietly.
Lisa looked at her.
Isabel’s expression had changed.
There was something steadier there now.
Something more aware.
“No one thought Sarah was a witch either,” she added softly.
The words settled between them.
Trust was no longer simple.
Because the people you thought you understood—
Might be the ones hiding the most.