Chapter 160

Chapter 160
Lyra's POV

The moment I saw him, my entire body froze, an endless rage threatening to drown me whole.

That mask concealed the scar on his face but couldn't hide the lazy smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he held his glass of wine.

This was the man.

He had ordered Orion poisoned, brutally stealing his life away.

My nails dug into my palms until they drew blood. Selah released a low growl deep within me.

Her hatred resonated with mine on the same frequency, nearly shattering my ability to maintain this disguise.

The muscles in my calves had already tensed, my weight shifting forward as instinct urged me to lunge at him, to tear out his throat completely.

But just as I was about to move, Sera's face flashed through my mind.

That murderous impulse surging to the top of my skull was crushed by something colder.

I couldn't act now.

Sera was still bound there, and the moment I revealed myself, the collar around her neck could end her life with ease.

I withdrew my nails from my palms, swallowed Selah's roar back down my throat, and suppressed every churning emotion.

I needed to get Sera out safely first, then figure out how to kill Kaelum.

I forced down the rage boiling inside me and began discreetly surveying the room's layout—the positions of the guards, the number of people surrounding Kaelum, the exits nearest to Sera.

Just then, I heard several werewolves seated near Kaelum begin speaking in low voices.

They occasionally glanced in my direction, their gazes carrying scrutiny and suspicion.

One of them leaned toward Kaelum's ear, voice deliberately quiet, but my hearing was sharp enough to catch every word.

"Patriarch, that woman looks unfamiliar. Never seen her before. Could be an infiltrator."

Kaelum took a sip from his glass and lifted his eyes, glancing toward me with casual indifference.

"Whose subordinate are you?"

His voice carried the lazy confidence of someone long accustomed to control.

"Sable's."

I delivered the name without a tremor in my tone.

This was the information Rourke had given me before we parted.

Sable was Kaelum's intelligence chief, typically operating on the periphery with notoriously loose connections to her subordinates, maintaining a network of informants who answered only to her.

I hadn't expected to use this information so soon, but now it was the only shield that could keep me from being exposed on the spot.

The werewolf who'd questioned me looked me up and down, then turned back to Kaelum respectfully.

"Patriarch, should we contact Sable to verify? For her to send one of her people here without authorization—that's against protocol."

Kaelum gently swirled his glass.

"Sable's always liked keeping little pets, granting them certain privileges. I'm in a good mood tonight. I won't hold it against her."

After that statement, he didn't spare me another glance.

The werewolf who'd questioned me, seeing this, said nothing more and retreated to his position.

I released a long breath internally, uncurling my clenched fingers one by one as I observed every movement of the werewolves surrounding Kaelum.

After the clock's minute hand completed another revolution, Kaelum set down his glass.

The porcelain struck the wooden table with a crisp sound.

"Enough people have arrived. Let's begin."

The dealer was a gaunt male vampire dressed in an immaculate white shirt and black vest.

Upon receiving the command, he respectfully picked up the silver revolver from the table and skillfully opened the cylinder, loading several bullets inside.

The cylinder snapped shut, rotated, producing the distinctive mechanical click of engagement.

Russian roulette.

But these madmen weren't betting their own lives—they were betting others'.

Kaelum's voice rang out again, as casual as before, as though merely discussing dinner plans.

"Pick one that catches your eye. Standard rules—keep going until the chambers run empty."

Scattered laughter rippled through the room.

Those gathered around Kaelum rose from their seats and walked toward the row of "prey" bound against the wall.

Their steps were unhurried, their movements as casual as if selecting livestock.

The air hung thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and something sickeningly sweet I couldn't quite name.

A middle-aged man was dragged out first. His hands trembled, his mouth gagged, capable only of broken whimpers.

The person who'd selected him efficiently checked that the blood magic collar around his neck was secure, then shoved him toward the iron chair in the center of the room.

This was Kaelum's "standard rules."

Using others' lives for entertainment, using living people's terror to add flavor to the evening's drinks.

Before anyone could reach Sera, I stepped forward, positioning myself in front of her.

"I want this one."

Sera lifted her head, those hollow eyes reflecting my image.

Clearly, she didn't recognize me.

The despair in her eyes made it nearly impossible to breathe.

Looking at her, I even briefly wondered if this was another illusion crafted by Varyn, a trap designed specifically for me.

But no illusion could be this precise.

The blood streaks on her face were real, the dirt beneath her fingernails was real, even that instinctive flinch of her shoulders when she heard someone had chosen her—that was real.

Those were details illusions could never replicate.

I hardened my heart and shifted my gaze away, not allowing any emotion that didn't belong in this moment to show.

The first round of gambling began quickly.

The person ahead of me took the gun. Five shots rang through the room.

As the gunfire fell silent, five bound people collapsed in succession.

Blood trickled down the chair legs onto the floor, pooling into small patches of dark red.

I didn't turn to look at those who'd fallen.

The cylinder's construction wasn't exactly a secret in the black market.

The chamber containing a bullet had greater inertia when rotating, the bearing's pause lasting a beat longer than an empty chamber.

This difference was nearly imperceptible to ordinary people, but I'd handled guns too many times during my father's training as his heir. I was intimately familiar with this variance.

When the gun reached my hands, the cylinder was on the third chamber.

I pressed the barrel against Sera's temple.

Empty chamber.

She shuddered violently.

Someone behind me muttered, "Lucky."

The gun circulated through the room methodically.

Each round, I counted the chambers that rotated past, my trigger finger applying pressure with perfect precision.

Final round.

When the gun reached my hands, only Sera remained alive in the room.

I pulled the trigger.

Empty chamber.

The dealer announced the game's conclusion to a chorus of exclamations.

Sera's wrist trembled faintly beneath my fingertips.

I lowered my voice, using a volume only she could hear, and repeated something she'd once said to me in the Red Fang dungeons.

"Don't be afraid, Sera. I've come to take you away."

After speaking, I maintained my surface composure and removed the collar.

Just as I was preparing to lead Sera out, Kaelum suddenly rose from his high-backed chair.

He walked toward me, blocking my path, a mocking smile curling his lips.

"No one who gets bound here leaves alive. That's a rule everyone who comes here knows."

His voice wasn't loud, but the entire room fell silent, countless appraising gazes settling on my face.

Kaelum's eyes lingered on my face for a moment, then that smile deepened.

"It seems you're not actually one of Sable's people."