Chapter 86 Hope

Chapter 86 Hope
Elara’s Pov

“There are guards outside this office.”

Only then did I remember.

The two guards.

They had been standing outside when I was brought here.

“If we walk out together,” Vincent continued, his eyes never leaving mine, “they’ll know something is wrong. They’ll sound the alarm before we make it ten feet down the hall.”

“But Zachariah—” I started, my gaze darting back to the slumped figure behind the desk.

“He isn’t dead.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

Vincent’s grip on my wrist tightened slightly, pulling my attention back to him. “He’ll wake up eventually. Which means we have very little time.”

Fear settled heavily in my chest, cold and suffocating. My mind raced with a thousand worst-case scenarios — guards bursting in, alarms blaring, Zachariah waking up and ordering us both killed. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. “So what do we do?”

Vincent glanced toward the office door before lowering his voice even further, his words quick and precise. “You leave first.”

“What?”

“Take the tray.”

I frowned, my heart pounding. “I can’t just—”

“You can.” His tone remained calm, but there was no room for argument in it. The intensity in his eyes made my stomach twist. “If either guard speaks to you, tell them Zachariah ordered that he isn’t to be disturbed. Keep your head down. Walk normally. Don’t run.”

“And you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll leave in a few minutes. I need to make sure nothing looks suspicious.”

I shook my head immediately, panic rising in my throat. “No. I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Elara.”

His voice softened just enough to catch my attention, his thumb brushing lightly over my wrist in a small, grounding gesture. “Trust me.”

Those two words stopped every protest before it reached my lips.

They were the same words he had spoken only hours earlier. The same promise that had both broken and saved me. I searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that he was lying. But all I saw was determination — and something deeper, something that made my chest ache with a confusing mix of fear and warmth.

Taking a slow, shaky breath, I bent down and picked up the silver tray, carefully avoiding the broken porcelain scattered across the floor. My hands were still trembling, but I forced them to steady. I forced myself not to look at Zachariah again. Forced myself not to look at Vincent for too long, because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk away.

I walked toward the office door.

My fingers curled around the handle.

I opened it.

The two guards immediately looked up.

I lowered my head respectfully, praying they couldn’t hear my heart pounding. “The Master asked not to be disturbed.”

The older guard exchanged a glance with the younger one before nodding. “Very well.”

I inclined my head once more and walked away.

Not too quickly.

Not too slowly.

Every step felt painfully loud, my shoes clicking against the marble floor like tiny alarms. I expected someone to call my name. Expected footsteps behind me. Expected a hand to grab my shoulder and drag me back.

Nothing happened.

Only when I turned the corner and disappeared from their sight did I finally allow myself to breathe. My back hit the wall as I leaned against it for a moment, my legs feeling weak. Relief washed over me in a dizzying wave, but it was quickly followed by a fresh surge of fear. Vincent was still in there. Alone. With a man who could wake up at any moment.

I closed my eyes, whispering a silent prayer.

Please be okay. Please come find me.

Then I kept moving.

The corridor stretched ahead of me, dark and quiet. I clutched the tray tighter, forcing my feet to keep going. Somewhere in this maze of a mansion, Raye was waiting. Somewhere down below, her mother was still trapped. And somewhere in all of this chaos, I had to find a way out.

For all of us.

The corridor was almost deserted as I walked away from Zachariah's office, the silver tray balanced carefully in my hands. Night had settled over the mansion, leaving only a handful of lamps burning along the walls. Their dim glow stretched my shadow across the polished floor, making every step feel louder than it should have. I kept my head down, praying no one would stop me before Vincent found me.

"Elara."

I froze.

The chief maid stood at the opposite end of the corridor, her sharp eyes narrowing as she looked me over.

"What are you still doing here?"

"I... I was returning the tray, ma'am."

She glanced at the silver tray in my hands before giving a curt nod.

"Then return it and go to your room." Her voice was as stern as ever. "It's late. The master has retired, and your duties are finished for the night."

"Yes, ma'am."

She studied me for another second, as though deciding whether to say more, then turned on her heel and disappeared down the corridor.

I waited.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Only after her footsteps had completely faded did I let out the breath I'd been holding.

Instead of heading toward the servants' quarters, I slipped into the narrow alcove beside a marble pillar, pressing myself against the cold stone.

I wasn't going to bed.

I was waiting for Vincent.