Chapter 156
Chapter 156
Sylvia's POV
Staring at the text Otto had sent, I felt my heart sink inch by inch into a cold, hollow pit.
I'd heard about the latest serum Varyn's people had developed. Otto had mentioned it once after a mission—told me it was still experimental, that anyone injected with it had three months to live without the antidote. Three months at most.
Three months.
Ivar was lying on that filthy mattress right now, his face drained of color, brow furrowed even in unconsciousness, suffering through a coma—and he only had three months left.
My thoughts spun in chaotic circles. I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms, the sharp pain dragging me back toward something resembling composure.
A few minutes later, Otto sent another message: I've already sent him back. I have no interest in him whatsoever. Sylvia, I just wanted you to see what's really in your heart.
My fingers froze on the phone. I didn't reply.
I knew exactly where Otto had gotten that serum. Ever since he'd started working with Kaelum, he'd been a regular at Varyn's casino, building connections with the people inside. But I hadn't expected him to go this far.
That serum wasn't cheap—it wasn't something you could get through favors alone. Yet he'd paid whatever it cost just to force my hand, to make me choose.
What worried me more was that the antidote existed only in Varyn's casino, and obtaining it was infinitely harder than acquiring the serum itself. The antidote was priceless in the truest sense—demand without supply.
If I went to the casino alone, I'd never get it.
I needed help. I needed someone with a goal aligned with mine, someone capable, someone bold enough to walk into that casino and come out alive.
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Lyra's POV
I stared at the surveillance footage looping on the screen, saying nothing.
On-screen, Sylvia walked into the villa, pulled a small vial from her pocket, and poured its contents into Orion's glass. The image was crystal clear, the movements seamless, every step executed flawlessly.
But something felt wrong.
This scene carried a strange sense of familiarity—it was too smooth, too perfect. From the moment the head of the guard handed me the footage to the instant I pinpointed this exact clip within three days' worth of recordings, everything had unfolded with the kind of precision that suggested someone had arranged it all in advance.
I thought back to the night my father died. I'd stood in front of a screen just like this one, watching footage just like this, with the same flawless clarity. Later, I'd learned that surveillance video had been a trap Yvette had laid from the start.
Beside me, one of the maids—a woman I'd always gotten along with—lowered her voice, her tone laced with unconcealed indignation. "Luna, are you really going to let Ivar protect Sylvia? She poisoned the Alpha. All the evidence is right here."
I shook my head without answering and dragged the video backward a few seconds, freezing it on a frame where Sylvia's face was turned directly toward the camera.
The features matched Sylvia's perfectly—but the expression was stiff, the curve of the mouth slightly off, the focus of the eyes shifted by half an inch.
It was a subtle incongruity no ordinary person would notice, but I'd been staring at this face for so long that every pixel had begun to magnify in my vision.
Looking at that face, I remembered what Orion had told me about the body doubles Kaelum kept on hand, and a suspicion began to take shape in my mind.
This was Kaelum's signature move—the person in the footage wasn't Sylvia. It was someone wearing Sylvia's face.
"Like they can't make any big movements," I murmured under my breath.
"What did you say?" The maid looked at me, confused.
I snapped back to attention and didn't bother explaining. "Go stop that elder. Tell him not to rush into punishing Ivar. Tell him this footage is questionable and I need him to wait."
The maid blinked, clearly surprised by my instruction, but she didn't press for details. She turned and headed toward the elder who'd been berating Ivar.
After she left, the room gradually quieted. Only a few servants remained in the hall, their footsteps so soft they were nearly inaudible as they cleared away the candelabras.
I stood alone, the silence pressing down on my chest like a boulder through the mate bond I still felt with Orion, making even breathing feel labored.
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to Orion's bloodless face. His skin was cold, the texture as soft as it had been in life, but there was no response.
"Don't worry," I whispered, my lips still against his temple. "I will find whoever did this."
As I spoke, tears blurred my vision again. I straightened, turned my back to the few people still in the hall, and scrubbed my face hard with the back of my hand, wiping away every trace of moisture before it could fall.
When I turned around to face the remaining members of the Blackwood family, my expression had returned to calm.
"Double the patrols. Double the staff in the surveillance room," I told the head of the guard. "From this moment on, don't miss a single detail."
The guard captain bowed his head respectfully and withdrew with his men.
The crowd slowly dispersed. Orion's stretcher was carried away by Darian and several others. I didn't dare look back. I was afraid that if I turned and saw that face covered by a white sheet, I'd lose the courage to keep going.
Right now, only two things mattered—finding the person who'd actually poisoned Orion, and killing Kaelum.
The murmur of voices faded. I stood in place, replaying the footage of "Sylvia" over and over, searching every frame for details I might have missed.
Behind me, I heard the faintest sound of footsteps.
I whipped around—Sylvia stood just behind me, her face deathly pale, as if she'd just escaped from somewhere, her breathing still faintly ragged.
My gaze swept over her from head to toe. No weapons, no hidden pouches. Her hands hung at her sides, fingers slightly splayed—a gesture of submission.
Before I could speak, she did.
"Lyra, I admit it. I was sent by Kaelum to assassinate Orion. But I gave up on that plan a long time ago. The person who poisoned Orion wasn't me."
She paused, as if gathering the last reserves of her courage. "I want to work with you. To take down Kaelum together."
I didn't answer right away. I looked into her eyes for a long time.
There were red veins in the whites, her lower lids faintly swollen. But what made me believe her wasn't her expression—it was her hands.
Her fingers trembled slightly at her sides, not from the fear of lying, but from the physiological response to making a monumental decision.
"What's in it for you?" I asked.
She lowered her head, her voice dropping. "Ivar was injected with a serum—developed by Varyn's people. The only antidote is in Varyn's casino. I can't do it alone."
She hesitated, as if debating whether to say the rest. A few seconds later, she looked up at me, her eyes holding a kind of honesty we both recognized—the honesty of someone with no way back.
"I know you want to find the real poisoner. But to do that, you have to go through Kaelum."
"Orion is dead. Given Kaelum's nature, he'll definitely go to Varyn's casino to celebrate—when that happens, you deal with Kaelum, and I'll get the antidote."